Billionaire Baby Daddy

“However, while it's not my company, my job is my priority and I want to see whatever company I work for do the absolute best it can. I want to do my job to the best of my ability. If that steps on Mr. Sinclair’s ego a little, so be it. After all, my career is on the line as much as the firm's reputation.

“I've taken a personal interest in this campaign, and I intend to work my fingers to the bone to turn it around. We need to rectify the damage that’s been done with the Marlboro Man wannabe persona. And you saw my presentation—there’s a lot of damage.”

“Maybe he was under a lot of stress when he came up with this campaign.”

“Well, if he can't handle the pressure, he should make way for someone who can,” she replied. “That would be what’s best for the agency.”

“Oh, I don't think he has any problems handling the pressure,” I replied. “It's just that he sometimes has a little too much on his plate. He takes a very personal interest in everything the firm does.”

“Maybe he shouldn't,” she retorted. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a lot of work to do on this campaign.”

She picked up her briefcase and turned around to leave the now empty boardroom. Before she could, I stepped between her and the doorway.

“Before you go,” I said, my heartrate starting to increase with a sudden and unexpected nervousness. “I’d like to speak with you about something.”

She looked up at me with something mysterious sparkling in her gorgeous eyes. “Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

“My name's not really Andrew. It’s Asher. Asher Sinclair. And I must admit, Ms. Maxwell, you've impressed me. I want to hire you as an aide to work in my office on high profile campaigns.”

Chapter Two

Lilah

As soon as he approached me, I knew something was up. I'd noticed how intently he'd been watching me during my presentation from the back of the room. He certainly hadn’t been present in any of the meetings I'd been to before.

Granted, I'd only been working at the Sinclair Agency for a couple of months and it was a sizeable agency. There were a lot of people I hadn't yet met. There are some people you can’t miss, even in a crowd, and this man was one of them. There’s no way I would have forgotten him had I seen him before. I sure as hell wouldn’t have forgotten the charge of electricity coursing through me from one simple moment of eye contact.

I felt like the presentation had gone really well. My supervisor had been taking notes and nodding the entire time, shooting me impressed glances and giving me the sense that I was on the right track. I'd also noticed a lot of other people doing the same.

So when the handsome stranger approached, I was expecting the questions about my presentation, which I duly answered. What I wasn’t expecting was for the conversation to move to the subject of Asher Sinclair. I'd heard and read a lot about the man, even did my homework on him and his company before I submitted my application for a position with Sinclair.

From what I could gather, it sounded like he was a proper old-school type mogul—a child prodigy, workaholic genius, someone along the lines of a Steve Jobs who had taken what was already a great firm and, at the green age of just 20, had begun the transformation that had turned it into one of the greatest PR powerhouses on the planet.

Naturally, I'd been more than a little intrigued by the idea of Asher Sinclair, as most women would be. Rumors were that, even though he was secretive, kept an extremely low profile, and went to great lengths to stay out of the spotlight, he was drop-dead gorgeous, suave, and quite a hit with the ladies. Of course, rumors aren’t known for being accurate—especially in New York social circles.

But rumors aside, the impeccable, deliciously classy business suit he wore should have given me at least a semblance of a hint that he wasn't just another mid-level manager wanting to pick up a few tips. And it would have, had I not been so caught up in the post-presentation euphoria and been a little off balance.

It was that charge that left me off balance and a little off my game. Normally, my mind would be quick to analyze and be calculating about such details, but those piercing eyes had distracted me and I hadn't put two and two together.

Instead, I'd gone off on a rant to “Andrew” about how poorly I thought Asher Sinclair had handled the Harry Winston watch campaign. I really laid things out, no holds barred.

So when I found out that “Andrew” was in fact Asher Sinclair himself, mortified wasn't even close to how I felt. When he revealed that little secret, inside I wanted nothing more than to find a rock and climb under it. When you find yourself basically insulting your CEO's intelligence and talent to his face, well, a little sensation pops into your mind and pretty much screams:

Your life is over. Your career is over. You may as well pack up and move to the other side of the country.

I won’t lie, it's close to the worst feeling you can imagine. But it was mixed with another emotion: anger.

That's right—in addition to feeling horrified—I was also absolutely furious. I mean, who does that? It's the epitome of dishonesty to not only pretend to be someone else, but to use that disguise to get people to reveal things they'd never reveal otherwise.

So, when he offered me a promotion after the tirade I had just unleashed, I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard him right. I was still trying to decide if I wanted to sink into the Earth itself and be buried alive or knock his handsome head off his shoulders.

I kept my cool as best I could. I was in the right, and the opinions I'd expressed about the failure of the watch campaign were completely valid. I had no intention of backing down or apologizing for my comments.

After introducing who he really was, he had told me how impressed he’d been by my presentation and offered me a promotion, but all I'd heard was, “My name's not really Andrew. It’s Asher, Asher Sinclair.” Everything after that had been an auditory blur as the world had come crashing down around me.

I did my best to maintain my composure. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair, but what did you just ask me?”

He smiled, and I would h