Read Online My Billionaire Boss book 1 Billionaire Bound by Emily Cantore - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Cantore
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least twice as big as the double bed in my apartment. To the right was another room with the door closed. Private bathroom?
He didn't look up, not at my heel s clacking on the wood floor nor when I stepped onto the thick Persian rug that sat under the desk and surrounded it. I approached him, feeling like a doe wandering into a lion's den. I glanced past his shoulder at the spectacular view and my foot caught suddenly on the rug...
Down I went, falling directly forward. There was no way I was letting go of the papers again so down they went with me. I fell directly into Mr. Stone, my face hitting his chest, my lips pressing against his shirt.
I landed on my knees on the rug but managed to save the papers. My handbag hit the ground too but thankfully nothing came out.
He looked down at me with a cruel smile.
"On your knees again Ms . Neri?"
I stood up and gasped. On his shirt were two red lips pressed together where my face had hit him.
"Do you have another shirt?" I asked, feeling like I was going to be fired on the spot.
He looked down at the lipstick marks and frowned. He stood up a nd walked around to the back of his desk.
"Lucky for you, I do," he said without a hint of humor in his voice. "Turn around," he commanded.
I turned around as he stripped off his shirt. In the polished surfaces of black and red I could see at least six angles of his slim muscular body. I closed my eyes but then immediately opened them again. If I was going to get fired at least I'd enjoy the view.
"The papers," he said from right behind me. I jumped and turned around. He was quiet when he moved. Mr. Stone looked at me but I couldn't read his face. Anger? Disappointment? I had a sudden desire to step forward and kiss him. Or for him to pull me in close to him again, grab the back of my neck and kiss me.
"I don't like to repeat myself," he said and held out his hand. I gave him the papers and he quickly flicked through them before handing them back.
"One to every investor. Match their names and then take notes of anything important. A pad is over there. This way."
He walked past me and I again smelt soap and some indefinable essence of masculinity. I scurried over to the side table, put my bag down, picked up a yellow legal pad and pen and followed him out of the room.
All the while repeating to myself don't freak out don't freak out don't freak out.
*
The meeting went by in a blur. Thankfully there were printed place names for each investor so all I had to do was match the print-outs with the place. The investors were mostly old guys with fat bellies sticking out of suits more expensive that my yearly rent. Mr . Stone was a powerful figure of youth and vitality compared to these old whales, moving about the room as he went over Stone-Black's latest plans regarding renewable energy in South America. I took notes the best I could but even I was caught up in his presentation. A way to bring renewable energy to an entire continent, provide jobs and preserve the environment? This was completely at odds of what I knew about Stone-Black and their history of environmental destruction and legal trickery. Did I have it all wrong about them?
Soon the meeting ended and all the old men waddled out of the board room, smiling at the thought of all the money they'd be making. When the last one left the room, Mr . Stone touched me briefly on the shoulder and pointed at my notes.
"Type those up and then bring them to my office in thirty minutes."
He walked off to talk to the investors while I packed up my stuff and scurried off to my desk. This time I wouldn't be caught off-guard or rushing.
I sat down at my new desk and looked down at my notes. My handwriting was doctor-level bad at the best of times. With everything that had happened today it had devolved into some prehistoric hieroglyphics. It would take a team of linguists to translate it.
With a sinking feeling I started to transcribe the scribbled mess.
*
About half an hour later I
He didn't look up, not at my heel s clacking on the wood floor nor when I stepped onto the thick Persian rug that sat under the desk and surrounded it. I approached him, feeling like a doe wandering into a lion's den. I glanced past his shoulder at the spectacular view and my foot caught suddenly on the rug...
Down I went, falling directly forward. There was no way I was letting go of the papers again so down they went with me. I fell directly into Mr. Stone, my face hitting his chest, my lips pressing against his shirt.
I landed on my knees on the rug but managed to save the papers. My handbag hit the ground too but thankfully nothing came out.
He looked down at me with a cruel smile.
"On your knees again Ms . Neri?"
I stood up and gasped. On his shirt were two red lips pressed together where my face had hit him.
"Do you have another shirt?" I asked, feeling like I was going to be fired on the spot.
He looked down at the lipstick marks and frowned. He stood up a nd walked around to the back of his desk.
"Lucky for you, I do," he said without a hint of humor in his voice. "Turn around," he commanded.
I turned around as he stripped off his shirt. In the polished surfaces of black and red I could see at least six angles of his slim muscular body. I closed my eyes but then immediately opened them again. If I was going to get fired at least I'd enjoy the view.
"The papers," he said from right behind me. I jumped and turned around. He was quiet when he moved. Mr. Stone looked at me but I couldn't read his face. Anger? Disappointment? I had a sudden desire to step forward and kiss him. Or for him to pull me in close to him again, grab the back of my neck and kiss me.
"I don't like to repeat myself," he said and held out his hand. I gave him the papers and he quickly flicked through them before handing them back.
"One to every investor. Match their names and then take notes of anything important. A pad is over there. This way."
He walked past me and I again smelt soap and some indefinable essence of masculinity. I scurried over to the side table, put my bag down, picked up a yellow legal pad and pen and followed him out of the room.
All the while repeating to myself don't freak out don't freak out don't freak out.
*
The meeting went by in a blur. Thankfully there were printed place names for each investor so all I had to do was match the print-outs with the place. The investors were mostly old guys with fat bellies sticking out of suits more expensive that my yearly rent. Mr . Stone was a powerful figure of youth and vitality compared to these old whales, moving about the room as he went over Stone-Black's latest plans regarding renewable energy in South America. I took notes the best I could but even I was caught up in his presentation. A way to bring renewable energy to an entire continent, provide jobs and preserve the environment? This was completely at odds of what I knew about Stone-Black and their history of environmental destruction and legal trickery. Did I have it all wrong about them?
Soon the meeting ended and all the old men waddled out of the board room, smiling at the thought of all the money they'd be making. When the last one left the room, Mr . Stone touched me briefly on the shoulder and pointed at my notes.
"Type those up and then bring them to my office in thirty minutes."
He walked off to talk to the investors while I packed up my stuff and scurried off to my desk. This time I wouldn't be caught off-guard or rushing.
I sat down at my new desk and looked down at my notes. My handwriting was doctor-level bad at the best of times. With everything that had happened today it had devolved into some prehistoric hieroglyphics. It would take a team of linguists to translate it.
With a sinking feeling I started to transcribe the scribbled mess.
*
About half an hour later I
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