Page 7 of Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed

Currently, she thrummed with a swirling blend of righteous indignation and professional poise he found mildly impressive.

Pulling into the circular driveway at the front entrance of the closest thing he had to a home anymore, he smiled when she let out a little gasp.

He was proud of his getaway in the trees, though no one had ever visited it.

The compound was a testament to all of the hard work he had done in his life to get there.

Going around the car, he opened her door and offered her his hand.

She took it, stepping outside to take the structure in.

Her palm slid into his, cool and smooth with a whisper of something that had him leaning in to hear before he had the presence of mind to pull back.

Ms. Howard did not appear to notice his proximity, however, her attention instead focused on his home.

The front entrance had been designed to inspire wonder, and it appeared to have done the job with Ms. Howard.

Her heavily lashed almond eyes widened as she stared.

The enormous building boasted beams that seemed to have to have come from trees from another epoch, their incredible girths anchored into equally massive rounded river stone bases. The real estate listing had described it as “an elegant log and stone cabin on a large private forested property outside of Aspen,” highlighting its classic exposed-beam design, vaulted ceilings and rich natural materials.

He’d purchased it on sight, feeling instant ease with its immensity and lack of facade.

Growing up in a city that grew illusions, he had longed for authenticity.

It pleased him that Ms. Howard was impressed.

Closing her car door behind her, he then led her through the front door and into the vast foyer with its wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that stared out into miles and miles of forest.

To offset some of the heavy, closed-in feeling that log cabins—even enormous ones—could sometimes have, he’d had his designers incorporate white accent walls of smooth adobe throughout the home, their rough natural surfaces blending well with the thick rounded beams of the mountain estate.

He had also added more than two dozen new windows and skylights to the existing impressive number, brightening the interior and bringing even more of the vast forest into the many hallways, dining rooms and sitting rooms that he now led her through.

He did not give her a tour, though.

As much as he was enjoying her little noises of astonishment and awe, she was not here to look at his house.

She was here to work.

To that end, passing several sitting and specialty rooms and hallways without comment, he brought her to his office.

Located in the deep interior of the sprawling chalet, Benjamin’s office was connected to his personal suite via thick French doors that were currently closed.

He had had the private wing of the cabin remodeled to meet his exact specifications, including the office.

The desk was his preferred height, built into a bay of windows that overlooked the forest.

Built-in bookshelves lined the walls, fabricated to the exact size required to house his favorite works.

A fireplace and seating area were set up in the corner for his comfort.

His office space was more closed in and cozier than much of the home, which he preferred.

Closed-in and cozy reminded him of where he had come from. It connected him to the drives of a younger, poorer version of himself.

His office reminded him that he had achieved what he had because it had been his parents’ dream that the world know his name—not because he was trying to be someone he was not.

Whether he was one of the most powerful men in the world or, as he had been when they were alive to bear witness, one of the most anonymous—he knew who he was and he was comfortable with it.

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