Making Her His (Beating the Biker 1)

“Sure, Jessica. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jessica, her assistant, nodded and shut the door as she left.

“Look, Mom, I’ve got to go.”

“But Christina, you’re coming to the house tomorrow night, right?”

“Mom, I told you I have to work.”

“That man has you work on Sunday, too? Christina Maria Serafina, I know better than that. Take five minutes from your busy schedule to show up at your grandfather’s birthday party.”

Crap. The last thing Chrissy wanted was to be in a room with the entire Serafina clan. She loved her family, at least her immediate family. But the day she learned that being a Serafina meant being part of organized crime, she swore she’d never live that life.

But she couldn’t show disrespect by not showing up, so she had to make an appearance.

“Fine, Mom. I’ll be there.” She gathered her leather pad-folio from her desk in case she had to take notes. As she passed the mirror she kept on the back of her office door, she checked her hair. Her blonde locks fell on her shoulder and she swept them back. Her dark blue Anne Klein jacket covered a simple pale yellow silk tank. A teardrop pearl pendant hung from a gold chain around her neck. She double- checked the lines of her pencil skirt, making sure nothing bunched. Satisfied she was presentable, she walked the hall to her boss’ office.

Richard Hamilton was exactly the sort of man that Chrissy wanted to marry. Handsome, educated, and didn’t mind working hard to make a good living. She figured he came from middle-class roots, judging from the different trophies he displayed in his office. High school was a watershed time for Hamilton, where he obviously played both football and baseball, not the upper-class sports like lacrosse or soccer.

But Richard had a fiancée, damn him. The best Chrissy could hope for was that she’d get invited to one of his frequent weekend barbecues or swim parties to meet his unmarried friends.

His assistant, Chloe, wasn’t at her desk, but it was Saturday. The obscenely thin hussy made it perfectly clear she never worked on weekends. It was up to Chrissy to knock on his door.

“Come in.”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Christina, yes. Please sit.”

Chrissy took one of the two leather chairs that sat before his desk and waited while he inspected papers on his desk. He picked up his pad and swiped through several pages. “I see what you did here,” he said with a frown.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No. It’s just I never considered that a company blog would be this effective in promoting our products. But you’ve put a real spin on all of them, making them seem...sexy, for lack of a better word.”

Chrissy was proud of what she accomplished online. Her posts went from nothing to ranked on the first page of many searches for 3D printing products. Richard had no idea what kind of work it took to make that happen. He was old-school in his marketing techniques. That’s why the president of the company hired her as Marketing Director and Richard as the Vice President of Sales.

Chrissy gave him an enthusiastic smile. “Three-dimensional printing is the business of the future, Richard. I guess I just got excited about what we offer.”

“Still, I want to see ad buys in trade journals.”

Chrissy opened her mouth then closed it again. While intelligent, Richard was stubborn. She disagreed. She had hoped to spend the advertising dollars on social media ads. “I can do that, though I suggest we put money in Facepage ads.”

“Facepage?”

“It’s through Facebook.” When he nodded, she continued, “You can set parameters for whatever audience you want. They have very sophisticated algorithms to help you zero in on the demographics you’re trying to reach. And they’re relatively inexpensive.” Chrissy just made a strategic mistake. She lost Richard at the word ‘algorithm.’ And then she used the word ‘inexpensive,’ which her boss translated into cheap. To Richard, the more expensive a thing was, the more value it had.

“I prefer we concentrate on the trade journals for now.”

“Of course, Richard. I’ll get right on that Monday.”

“No. You worked today. Take Monday off.”

“But—”

“No buts. You’ve done more than enough work and deserve the day. So, take it. I’m not likely to be this generous again.”

“I’m grateful, but speechless.”