The Billionaire's Fake Girlfriend: Part 1 (The Billionaire Saga 1)

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Seduced By My Billionaire Boss

Part 1

By

Sierra Rose

Copyright © 2015 by Sierra Rose

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Chapter 1

“Taxi!”

I took a giant step back to avoid the accompanying wave of sludge water as the cab sped by me, then surged toward the pavement with the rest of the crowd to catch the next one.

Life in New York City was a series of such compromises—little gives and takes. Your apartment floods, you get moved to the Hilton where you can comfortably sue for water damage. An early winter blizzard blankets the ground; you get to pull out your brand new Bloomingdales trench coat to combat the cold in style. You miss this cab; you get the next one. And fortunately, I had a bit more in my arsenal than the stockbroker standing next to me to deal with that last one.

With a seductive smile, I extended one bare leg onto the street, peeking out from beneath my skin tight pencil skirt and ending in the point of my stiletto. The guy standing next to me gawked appreciatively, but his eyes narrowed as they met mine—he knew my game. Under the guise of scanning further up the street, I leaned over, letting my conservative blouse pop open an extra button or two. There was a screech of tires, followed by a gruff, “Where to, miss?”

Sneaking a winning glance back at the stockbroker, I climbed into the cab. “Financial District. The corner of Pearl and Pine.”

And just like that, with little more than a smile, I sped off to my first day of work.

I leaned back against the cool leather and re-buttoned my blouse as I recited my resume under my breath. “Graduated with honors, Princeton University. Masters in Business from Harvard. Two years president of the Women’s Student Association. Junior Editor, Harvard Business Review. Eighteen-month internship with Goldman Sachs.”

But instead of accepting Sachs’ lucrative job offer when my internment came to an end, I’d set my sights even higher. There was one financial investment firm with a reputation even more pristine than that of Goldman Sachs. A firm ranked top of their game in every field by every standard.

Larchwood.

Not ‘The Larchwood Company.’ Not ‘The Larchwood Investment Firm.’

Just Larchwood. Like Madonna or Cher. The company didn’t need further explanation. When it came to the financial community of Manhattan’s upper elite—they were king. No questions asked.

So I left Goldman Sachs. Left the two hundred thousand starting salary on the table. Left to make my name with something bigger, better. Even if it did mean starting out as a low-level assistant without recognition or the chance of dental.

I was ready for this. I was overqualified. It was in the bag.

“Excuse me, sir?” I called up to the driver. “Could you pull over for just a second?”

As the cab veered close to the sidewalk, I leaned out the open door and threw up on the curb. The cabbie watched me with shrewd eyes as I patted my mouth discreetly with a tissue and sat back against the leather.

“That’s all,” I said weakly. “Thank you.”

The eyes in the rear view softened. “You auditioning for an internship downtown?” he asked sympathetically.

“An assistant’s position, actually,” I corrected automatically. But my heart fell in spite of myself as I studied him right back. “Why do you ask?”

He chuckled. “I’ve made that last minute swerve many times now. There sure are a lot of you.”

I pondered this for a moment before the competitor rose up in me and I considered the possible implications. “Wait—many of us, like, many of us today? Have you already dropped people off downtown?!”