Page 2 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

With that much space, a family could go weeks without running into one another.

Her own family was large and close-knit, and they had always done fine with just three bedrooms and a finished garage.

And while it had been a long time since Miri had lived at home with all of them, her absence hadn’t created any more space. Especially not when her siblings were out there busily populating the world with her plethora of nieces and nephews, all of whom were happy to take the place she’d left.

Now that she lived alone, her entire personal life fit easily within the confines of a microscopic one-bedroom apartment. She had a tiny kitchen, a shower rather than a bathtub, and a bedroom that was too small to fit anything over a full-size bed, and it was still sometimes too much space.

And what if it were just him, all alone out here in the snow?

Miri blinked to clear her mind of the image. It was eerie and lonesome, and the last thing she wanted to think about before spending time in his company.

A place this massive with no family or friends nearby would make a person wonder if they were a ghost haunting the halls.

Family—born into, reconstructed or completely made up—was what gave a person the strength needed to navigate landscapes that were vast and filled with pitfalls.

That was true whether the setting was the endless forestland of Colorado’s mountains, or the concrete jungle of Los Angeles.

His success was a clear indication that he had successfully navigated his fair share of vast landscapes. There had to have been somebody around, quietly supporting that.

Therefore, she was glad she’d brought doughnuts.

She had taken the risk of waking early to pick them up from a place in Highland Park that everyone had been raving about on her way to the airport that morning.

While under normal circumstances she would not have brought doughnuts along with her to a last-minute meeting with a billionaire, the current context made it seem not only appropriate, but shrewd.

As opposed to what she had learned about the JCF’s offices, where contributing to the break room’s baked goods collection was not only considered professional but simply the right thing to do, she was not under the impression that sweet treats would impress Benjamin Silver.

She did think, however, that there was a chance they might impress his family—whoever they happened to be.

Their meeting was taking place on the first day of Hanukkah at his sprawling private residence; whoever was around would appreciate doughnuts.

Impressing everyone that she met while wearing the hat of events director was not simply a fun exercise to break the ice, nor an attempt to win friends—at least not yet.

Her job was on the line.

She was only two weeks into her new position, a position that was critical to her being able to pay her rent.

To compound the pressure, she had barely secured the position in an extremely competitive hiring process in which she had been neither the favorite nor the most experienced candidate.

But—the result of her being desperate, loaded with more degrees and certifications than any one person had any business having, and inexperienced enough to be foolhardy—she had promised something that the other candidates had said couldn’t be done.

She had promised that she could pull off this year’s famed annual gala even though the date was only two months away and all the work that had been done up to her hiring had imploded in the fallout of a scandal.

She had projected confidence in making her promises, sensing that she had the hiring committee’s attention.

The JCF had been planning to announce the cancellation of the gala.

And so they had taken her up on her bet, provisionally hiring her on the spot—the provision being that she delivered on her promise and gave them a gala the likes of which would make the community forget all about the fact that the former executive director and events director had both been fired upon the discovery of their years-long office affair.

The JCF was still reeling from the fallout among its community of supporters, their faith in the administration of the organization at an all-time low.

Only something transformative could distract and redirect their attention and restore their confidence.

Miri had promised a gala that would be just that.

So she needed Mr. Silver not just on her side, but behind her with full support.

She needed him wrapped around her little finger when it came to ideas and plans—at least if she had any hope of preserving her job.

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