Daddy’s Billionaire Boss

Staring at her photos, I had to adjust myself beneath the desk. My palms were actually sweating for the first time ever. Forcing the blood back to my brain, I focused.

Emily Jameson was twenty years old, and had recently graduated from two years of studying the humanities. Language, philosophy, geography, and history. Hopefully that meant she was a well-rounded individual.

Since she did some fact-checking and research for an urban psychology podcast, she was likely somewhat knowledgeable about all of that touchy-feely crap I was supposed to pay attention to.

Here was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Damn, that sounded cold, even for me.

I’d already been at my desk for an hour, now sipping an Americano made from a beautiful dark roast Colombian bean, when Emily appeared at my doorway.

I was in front of her and clasping her hand in mine before I even realized I’d stood up.

“Emily,” I said gently, leading her to my long, black leather sofa. It was starting to become well worn, as I spent the night here occasionally when I worked so late it wasn’t worth the bother of going home.

She was a vision, in a bright blue dress that lit up her eyes. Her lovely hair was held back in a silver clip shaped like a sparrow.

“Thank you for coming,” I said. The words felt awkward, and I realized I was smiling widely again.

Normally I would jump right into the work to be done, but I couldn’t treat her like a mere coworker. Emily was so much more. The overwhelming urge to care for her forced me to think of logistics. What might she need?

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No,” she shook her head, causing her hair to wave gently around her pale, delicate throat.

“What is your favorite kind of coffee?”

Those big eyes blinked in surprise, then she smiled. “Are you always so focused?”

“Yes.” I didn’t feel the need to elaborate.

She certainly didn’t need to know that my focus was often so extreme that I lost track of time, needing both office and personal assistants to make sure that my basic needs were supervised.

“I guess I like most coffee that isn’t too strong,” she said shyly.

I pressed a button on my desk. “Sandra.”

In seconds, my assistant leaned in the door. “Yes, sir?”

“Prepare the Ugandan light roast as a flat-white with a touch of raw sugar, and a lemon poppyseed muffin for Emily. I’ll take the Guatemalan dark roast as a double shot.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Emily’s eyes were fixed on mine. “You send her off to the coffee shop just like that? What if she’s busy?”

A deep rumbling sound filled my office for the first time I could remember, as I laughed loudly. Emily laughed with me, although she clearly didn’t understand.

“Sandra is here to assist me,” I finally managed to explain. “We don’t waste time with coffee shops. Every possible machine is in the break room. Sandra and several other staff members have trained with a barista so they can prepare whatever I need.”

“Can you pull an espresso shot yourself?” she asked, arching an eyebrow over a faint wash of peach eyeshadow. When in my life had I noticed a woman’s makeup?

“No, I’ve never thought about it,” I confessed.

Her bubbling laugh sent spikes of lust straight through my hips. God, what it would feel like to rip off her cute dress and take hold of that soft skin. To feel her move under me as I kissed those rosy lips...

“You’re clearly into coffee.

Aren’t you curious?” Her head cocked to the side as she seemed to analyze me. “I think you should learn. It would be good for you.”