Daddy’s Billionaire Boss

She insisted on giving me a crystal reading, telling me that I’d fall in love with a very improbable boyfriend. Peering into the inclusions of her jagged chunk of quartz, she had assured me that the details were clear.

Dutifully writing down the list of what she saw, I didn’t really believe it. But I wanted to.

There was no reason to hope for this mystical man. I’d never had the time to be interested in boys before.

Maybe that was the problem, I pondered, watching that huge, gorgeous physique stride purposefully along the glass wall. Maybe I’d been holding out for a man.

As Mason turned, the light from the windows highlighted his profile, sending my heart spiraling. I nearly dropped my phone, slipping it back into my bag with shaking hands.

Suddenly, for the first time, I needed my Aunt’s prediction to be true. I needed it to be him.

2

_____

Mason

Ending my phone call, I stood at the window, looking out over the city. Usually the precision and sharp lines of the buildings gave me confidence that there was some order in the world.

In my thirty-five years, I’d learned that searching for order brought me the important things. Wealth, power, stability, and comfort. In that order.

In all my years, I wouldn’t have thought I’d be phoning a presentation coach before every pitch meeting. But I was.

Curious as to why I was losing the odd project to competitors, I sent a questionnaire to my colleagues and clients, requesting honest and anonymous feedback. Of the few who were brave enough to comment, the opinion was unanimous.

I was cold.

I would have thought that precision, attention to detail, and the details of each project would be the most important factors. Yet apparently we now lived in a touchy-feely world where people wanted to pretend they were buddies with their business associates.

It was maddening, to say the least.

In my quest to bring in as much new business as possible this quarter, I’d resorted to calling Marjorie, my presentation coach, before each big meeting. I didn’t like the thought of bringing new people into my work space, so the phone calls were as far as I was willing to go.

She filled me full of witty observations about current events and the project at hand, reminding me to gesture and smile. Always, as she put it, bringing out my “humanity.”

As if I’m supposed to remember to smile while reciting dozens of statistics, and analytical details.

Observing the clean lines of the local architecture

brought me no peace today. A strange tension settled across the back of my shoulders. Either I worked out too hard yesterday, as I often did to relieve stress, or I was developing a negative feeling about this upcoming meeting.

Or maybe I just needed another coffee.

Spinning on my heel, I walked to the boardroom door, about to turn down the hall, when my shoes stopped dead in their tracks. My mouth may have actually hung open.

The girl in front of me was the most lusciously feminine looking creature I’d ever laid eyes on.

Dark brown hair, waving gently down to skim her shoulders. Mouthwatering, sensual curves hidden by peachy pink flowy fabric. Rosebud lips that looked softer than a flower petal.

And those eyes. Those warm, sparkling brown eyes as she turned, locking her gaze with mine.

One of my researchers, David Jameson, stepped in front of her. “Good morning, Mr. McHenry,” he said, his voice low, as if he knew that he was disturbing me.

David had been with the company for several years now. Quick, efficient, accurate, and stayed the hell out of my way. I appreciated that.

“This is my daughter Emily,” he said quickly. “I was just giving her a tour of the office.”

She stepped closer, and I automatically extended my hand. But for once, it wasn’t for a businesslike shake.