Bad Boss (Irresistible Book 2) Read online

  “Hotel Piera.” My mind raced, but I took a casual drink to hide it. “If you’re interested in hearing her reports, I’d be happy to have you at the office on Tuesday. That’s her first official day back.”

  “Yeah?” Turner looked at her again. “Set it up, Hoult. Tuesday’s good. Noon work for you?”

  “Noon’s perfect,” I said smoothly as I returned my eyes to the woman I’d just made my non-consenting pawn. Shit. I thought fast as I stared at her. She was wearing that sultry fuck-me look of hers that made me want to forget everything and just bury myself inside her, but I needed to focus and excuse myself from Turner fast.

  I had a plan I was improvising on the fly as I walked toward her.

  And it involved a hundred percent of her willingness to lie for me.

  SARA

  I barely had time to breathe let alone understand.

  “Don’t look surprised. Just come with me.”

  Those had been his only words before he took my hand and brought me down a grand hallway toward a marble staircase. I hastily gathered my skirt in my hand as we ascended, our shoes a noisy chorus of click-clacks that echoed up every step.

  My thoughts were scrambled.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, breathless once we were mostly alone on the second floor. Two vested servers wheeled a cart of dirty plates from an empty ballroom down the hall, but save for a few curious looks, they paid us no mind. “Hey.” I grabbed Julian’s forearm to bring his attention from them back to me, but I dropped it like a hot potato when I felt that rigid knot of muscle. Answers. I needed to prioritize getting answers over getting distracted by my unbelievable lust for him. “Hey. Can you please tell me what’s happening?”

  His eyes slid back to me. “My colleague downstairs has his eye on you,” he said, his jaw slightly clenching when he eyed my dress. I looked down at myself, realizing that in our rush, the strap of my dress had fallen well off my shoulder. I didn’t fix it. “And I need to brief you on a lie I involved you in before he tries to introduce himself.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Julian?”

  He paused hard at the sound of his name from my lips. I could tell he wanted to ask how I knew it, but it was clear that whatever he was just talking about took priority.

  “You have Turner Roth’s attention. I want his. For that reason, I’d like to hire you for a very short and specific job. To be safe, we can make it a three-month contract, and I’ll pay however much your last employer offered for a full year.”

  “What?” Seriously, what? “Wait. I don’t understand – what kind of job is this?”

  “You’d be posing as my assistant, and by Tuesday, I’d need you to have memorized a full report on a twenty-million-dollar renovation to a resort in Biarritz, France that I’m looking to sell to Turner and Carter Roth.” He eyed the fallen strap of my dress. “I’ll also be needing you to present this information to them in a rather specific way.”

  “How is that?”

  “I need you seduce them.”

  I stared. “Excuse me?”

  “By seduce, I don’t at all mean sleep with them.”

  “Thank God for that, but then what do you mean? Because I think I need a very thorough explanation,” I said. Despite my frustration, I stared unblinkingly at the way he ran his hand across his jaw.

  “I have a limited amount of time to strike an important deal with the Roths,” he explained, standing close as I leaned back on a wall. “They just inherited the biggest sports and entertainment presenter in America, despite the fact that they’re by no means actual or savvy businessmen. In fact, their particular egos make it so that they feel little reason to pay attention to anything unless it involves instant gratification, generally in the form of impressing a beautiful woman. Of course, from what I’ve gathered, they lose that interest the moment they actually have sex with the woman, so your job is to be professional while also dressing provocatively and flirting enough to maintain their interest. All I need is for them to listen long enough to connect me with their business advisors, with whom I’ll actually have productive meetings. So realistically, the hardest part of your job could be done within just a few meetings.”

  I stared. I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. But presuming I’d just understood correctly, I was curious, and… thrilled, even?

  I wet my lips.

  “Okay, so… correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re saying you want me to string these guys along with my sexual allure, and force them to pay attention to your pitch in the process?”

  “Yes. But you’ll never spend any time alone with them. You’ll only ever be accompanying me during meetings and business trips, and when we’re not doing anything involving the Roths, which will probably be most days of your week, you’re free to use the resources at my office to send resumes, or work on your own projects.”

  Damn it. I was already halfway sold before knowing I could use the time to continue my job hunt.

  “What are you thinking?” Julian asked.

  “That this is crazy,” I said, if only to remind myself that it was. The near stranger I’d almost fucked in an elevator last week, whom I’d spent the past six days obsessing over, was proposing to hire me as sexual bait for a couple of sleazy billionaires. The money made me want to say yes, but I knew I owed myself a moment to consider the cons of the situation. There were probably tons.

  I just couldn’t think of any.

  “Tell me about the job you quit,” Julian said, breaking my weak train of thought. “Where was it?”

  “June Magazine.”

  He laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  I looked at him curiously. “I’m not. Why?”

  “No reason,” he replied, the closest I’d ever seen him to smug. “But if I told you that I could guarantee getting you either your job back or a better one after our contract is finished, would you agree to work for me?”

  I blinked.

  Okay, this was one of the cons – the fact that this man was making such lofty promises while remaining a complete fucking mystery to me. I had no reason to trust him. I knew nothing about him except that I made rash decisions around him, and that he disabled my logic with just a look in my eyes. My heartbeat was never steady around him, and it always inclined me to do something reckless, impulsive.

  So in what world was it a good idea for me to work for him? And in such a strange, sexual role?

  My best bet by far here was to decline, invite him back to my apartment, and sleep with him for the first and last time. After that, I’d cut myself off before getting addicted. That was the smart thing to do. The right thing to do.

  Of course, I’d established a pattern of doing very much the wrong thing around Julian.

  “Okay,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

  Even Julian looked partially surprised by the speed of my response, which had me instantly questioning my decision. But when he extended his hand and asked, “We have a deal?” I gazed at that slight but stunning curl of his lips and forgot to backtrack or at least ask a couple questions like I told myself I would.

  “Yes.” I let out the breath I was holding. “We have a deal.” I swallowed the knot in my throat. “And in case you were at all interested, my name is Sara.”

  His voice softened unexpectedly.

  “Sara,” Julian repeated as he shook my hand. My pulse picked up as his gaze grew heavy, taking its time to look me up and down. “It was nice to meet you last week, Sara,” he smiled, sending a shiver up my spine. “I look forward to working with you.”

  “Likewise,” I said, pretending to be casual despite the fact that I was still processing what I’d just done, and telling myself the same thing on repeat in my head.

  You are fucked, Sara.

  You are so incredibly fucked.

  6

  SARA

  I was going to be late for my first day at the office if I didn’t stop Googling, but I was just too. Damned. Floored.

  I
thought the surprises were over after not only seeing my mystery man again yesterday, but also realizing that he was Lukas and Lia’s Julian. All that was very much shocking enough without the bombshell that dropped during my cab ride home while searching the full name on the bone white business card that Julian gave me.

  Julian Hoult.

  He was Julian Hoult. As in Hoult Communications, which owned Hoult Publishing, which of course owned about half the magazines of my career dreams. The company was so revered in the magazine world that my former employer had consistently tried and failed for years to get bought out by Hoult. The fact that I now worked so closely with the man they fell to their knees for was exhilarating. It already felt like sweet, sweet revenge on its own. Of course, it would be even better if they knew, but whatever. I was no longer thinking about them anymore. I was thinking about the exciting new chapter in my life that had fallen into my lap.

  And, of course, I was still Googling.

  “I maintain that I told you about him before,” Lia said for the fifth time this morning, clinking away at her dishes now. We’d been lazily on speakerphone with each other since 6:30AM, drifting in and out of our half-assed argument to brush our teeth, make coffee and get ready.

  “Disagree.” I sat hunched over my laptop at the end of my dining table, wearing just a bra and a half-zipped pencil skirt. I really needed to get my shit together, but Internet stalking was like Pringles. Once you pop, the fun don’t stop. “I swear, you didn’t tell me shit, woman.”

  “Oh no,” Lia muttered distractedly to herself. “Did I just chip my favorite mug?” I heard some tinkering before she breathed out in relief. “Oh, thank God, I didn’t. You know what I did do though? Tell you about Julian. A long time ago. On three or four separate occasions.”

  Yeah, she was probably right. I had just been so absorbed in work back then.

  “Well, if you did, you didn’t harass me hard enough to listen. Or offer the juicy details, like how he owns Hoult Freaking Publishing,” I said as I scrolled through Getty Images of Julian in crisp suits, looking devastatingly handsome at various glitzy events. Chill, I told myself as I compared two pictures, trying to distinguish if he was posing with the same pretty girl in both. The answer was no, but I wasn’t pleased with myself for getting that worked up for a second.

  “Whatever. Stop Googling pictures of him. I can hear you furiously clicking.”

  “Hoult Publishing, Lia,” I derailed. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I heard her cracking eggs on the other end as she giggled. “To be fair, I have no idea what Hoult Publishing is. When I first met Julian, everyone was talking about how he just bought a baseball team, so I thought that was what he did.”

  “Yeah, that’s also fucking crazy. The fact that he owns the Empires? They’re killing it this season.”

  “Whatever. Is baseball brown ball or white ball? And are you leaving for work yet?”

  “Almost. I just need to finish getting dressed.”

  “Isn’t the point of your dirty little job to not be dressed?” Lia teased.

  “Only on days that I’m meeting with the Perv Brothers, and even then, I do have to keep it tasteful. I can’t just waltz into the conference room wearing a thong and fishnets.”

  Lia scoffed. “Of course not. You’d need sequined nipple tassels too.”

  “I would never wear sequins to work, Lia. You know I would keep it classy – pinstriped nipple tassels, only. Maybe khaki ones on Fridays,” I grinned as she audibly choked on her coffee. “In all seriousness though, I do need to maintain some air of professionalism… which probably also requires being on time,” I groaned, finally dragging my ass away from my laptop and to my closet. I grabbed the blue button-up I’d ironed last night and my thin red belt with the fine gold clasp. Lia read my mind.

  “Time check is eight-fifteen.”

  “Shit, really?” My fingers flew over my buttons as I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. “God, I refuse to be late. On the first day or any.”

  “Breathe, girl. You won’t be late if you leave right now. Just check for panty lines on the way out,” Lia instructed just as I twisted my body while passing the bathroom mirror.

  “All good.”

  “Buttons straight?”

  Grabbing my purse, I glanced down my front to confirm the buttons, but instead I laughed aloud at the sight of my cleavage.

  “Oh God. This bra is killer,” I said as I shoved ear buds into my phone to take Lia off speaker and bring her with me out the door.

  “Tell me you wore The One.”

  “I did.” It was by far the best push-up in my small collection, but The One was rarely ever worn. Its lifting powers were too intense for a regular day basis, so it was saved for special occasions – and, apparently, first days of work.

  “He’s gonna get one look of the girls in that thing and go nuts. I hope you’re prepared for some hot, sweaty, bent-over-the-desk office sex. You realize that’s happening, right?”

  “As much as I wouldn’t mind it, I’m not sure,” I smirked as I flew down the hall of my building and out the door.

  “What? Why aren’t you sure?” Lia asked incredulously. “That man is definitely dying to get a moment alone with you already. First it was that barge-in at the hotel, then it was hiding you from that guy yesterday,” she said, referring to Julian hastily sending me home in a cab so I could avoid Turner Roth and any questions about working for Julian that I wouldn’t know how to answer. “Trust me, girl. That man is waiting to pounce.”

  “We’ll see. Judging from yesterday, Julian Hoult is a very different beast when he’s in work mode. He’s in a different world completely. He’s intense, and he’s focused, and actually, it’s insanely fucking hot and I’m really not sure how I’m going to handle it. But anyway, I’m almost at the train so I’m gonna lose service. I’ll call you at the end of the day.”

  “No, you’ll text me live updates as your day goes on, except for when you’re actively having sex with Julian.”

  “Ha. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Later, girl,” Lia said. “Enjoy your first day as a professional sex kitten.”

  Crap.

  I hadn’t expected this to be the first part of the day to throw me off. Of course, I should have guessed that I’d run into some sort of trouble in an elevator. That was just becoming the pattern this week.

  Just smile and be confident, I told myself despite the fact that I’d received the onceover from every last person who’d filed into the elevator. It was men and women alike, and it was nothing offensively leering or critical – it was just, apparently, a huge yet surprisingly cliquey building, and they all quietly knew that I didn’t belong.

  The fact only grew clearer as the elevator started moving. Despite all heading to different floors, everyone began chatting casually. They smiled and laughed as they talked about their weekends – about finally trying that omakase on Twelfth Street, or escaping to a friend’s house in the Hamptons. Everyone was of a certain status here. Everyone maintained a certain lifestyle, and everyone knew each other.

  Except for me.

  I looked away after catching someone’s eye and hearing him drop his voice to a mutter. “Who’s that?” he asked his colleague, who responded with something I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it prompted them both to laugh.

  Good Lord.

  Who knew the suits at Hoult Tower could be so catty? And who knew that after all these years, the new girl feeling would still strike fear in my heart? It brought me right back to all the memories I’d convinced myself were mostly gone. God, I’d clearly been premature in patting myself on the back for getting over all those.

  Apparently, all it took was being an outsider again for everything to come back.

  Dammit, Sara, you’re twenty-seven, I berated myself. That seemed about the right age to outgrow bad memories. Right? I didn’t have the answer to that question, and I didn’t actually want to think about
it now, so I just tucked myself into the corner and closed my eyes, doing my best to drive the useless thoughts out of my head. Good, I thought as the elevator stopped again. It gave me more time to meditate.

  At least I thought it did. But then I felt the hush fall over the small space. I felt a strange little shift in the air, and I could practically hear everyone’s posture creaking straight.

  Then came the first, “Good morning, Mr. Hoult.”

  I opened my eyes to find Julian’s electric stare already pinned on mine from the door. My pulse jumped, but with a flick, he returned his gaze to the man who’d greeted him. They exchanged a line of polite conversation before Julian moved through the small huddle of suits. I watched the way everyone swiftly changed around him. They stood at attention, presented themselves better. It was kind of fascinating.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “Morning, Mr. Hoult.”

  He acknowledged each greeting with an efficient nod before finding his way to the back corner. My cheeks were on fire but I did my best to maintain professionalism as I looked him in the eye and smiled.

  “Mr. Hoult,” I said.

  “Ms. Hanna.”

  I could feel the attention of the others as he greeted me by name. Just like that, an invisible spotlight was cast upon me. Thankfully, despite a knowing and almost wicked smile, Julian spoke with the utmost professionalism.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked me.

  “Very well, thank you,” I responded, allowing myself a peek at him. Yes, please. Dark blue suit and tie. Cufflinks worth more than my savings. He was effortless beauty as usual, but I was getting better at breathing steady around it. “I did start a little nervous, but I’m better now,” I confessed as the elevator opened again to let in a few more.

  The huddle shifted wordlessly to make room, and I bit my lip when I found myself pressed against the back wall, Julian standing directly over me. He indulged in a second-long glance of my absurdly pushed-up breasts, but he swiftly averted his eye when I asked, “How are you?”