Bossed by the Billionaire
: Part 1 – Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Alyssa

The bus comes to a halt. I bolt out as if bullets pepper my steps, and no young mom with a stroller or little old ladies are gonna get in my way.

One of Portland’s tallest high-rises lurks before me. On a good day I enjoy taking in the pristine architecture, the marble flooring, the silver-lined mirrors, the state of the art security systems, and the executive elevators gilded in gold.

This is not a good day.

I was here a few hours ago. When I left, embracing a Friday evening, I barely took the décor in. I was in such a hurry to get out of here.

Two security guards are on duty in the lobby. I flash them my ID badge and show them the stack of folders in my hands. One nods and motions for me to take an elevator up. Just my luck, it won’t budge. Stuck again, Elevator 2? Wouldn’t be so bad if Elevator 1 went to the top floors and Elevator 3 hadn’t been down all day.

I glance at my watch as Elevator 2 finally gets its ass moving. Nine-thirty. My boss hadn’t given me an ultimatum, but I knew that tone in his dark and dangerous voice. He wanted these files yesterday. What if I’m preventing him from making a big business deal? What if I’m costing him thousands… no, millions!… of dollars? He’s going to blame me! Then what? I lose my job in the aftermath, because he has to punish somebody?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I’m not going to have a job by midnight, am I?

The lights are off in the executive suite. All but the low-energy ones illuminating the way to Julian Marcus’s corner office. The one belonging to his partner, Preston Bradley, is completely dark. Pretty soon cleaning crews will move through here. Will they work around my boss, or are they dismissed until later? Why the hell do I care about that when I should be worrying about my own job?

The fact that the double-doors leading into the suite aren’t opening?

I wrestle with the glass door as if my life is about to be snatched from my body. I can’t afford hangups like this!

The door clicks, and I practically fall into the central office. If the secretary had been here, he would have laughed at my dumb, clumsy ass. If he wasn’t trying to glimpse at my panties, anyway. The guy has a terrible reputation around here, although he usually leaves me alone – I’m not as pretty as the other female interns. Positively average compared to them.

Even so, the secretary would have totally laughed and stared at me. I’m glad Mr. Marcus and I are apparently the only ones here tonight.

Someone pushes aside the blinds shielding the window to his corner office. That someone is named Julian Marcus.

I stop halfway there. One critical look sideswipes me, startling me, scaring me… arousing me.

So sue me. I’m human. I’m a heterosexual female looking into the dark eyes of Julian Marcus, one of the most prime specimens of young bachelorhood around. Even at this late hour he’s wearing his dark navy blue power suit with the gray and white striped tie. Perfectly cut and tailored. Dare I say bespoke? He’s got the money for it. LA, New York, London, Paris… I hear from his personal assistant he gets the measurements done right here in his office and the tailors send him fabric samples. Lucky bastard. What’s it like to live that kind of luxury?

Based on the stern face waiting for me on the other side of that glass? It’s terrible. Awful. I should never fantasize about it.

The door opens. Good. Now I don’t have to knock or buzz, because I sure as hell don’t know the keycode to his office. It changes every week, anyway.

“Alyssa.” Holy shit. That’s my name, and it’s not happy to greet me. “Come in.”

I had started walking again, but now I come to another standstill. His hand continues to motion to me. Why am I sweating? Am I short of breath? You’d think I ran up the stairs to get here instead of taking the elevator.

The man is so much bigger in person. His presence alone is enough to fill the entirety of the executive office. If he did things to me over the phone? Getting a whiff of his cologne as I approach him has my legs trembling and my heart racing so quickly that I’m afraid I’ll pass out. Would Julian Marcus give me CPR until the ambulance arrives? Oh my God, is my insurance good enough to afford an ambulance?

“I have the folders.” My eyes never break from his as I shove the humble stack of folders forward.

“I’ll look inside my office.” He turns, further motioning for me to follow him.

Really?

Into his office?

I’ve never been in here before. The few times he’s personally addressed me, it was done downstairs at my meager desk or in the center of the greater executive office. The only people who get to come into Julian’s private office are his business associates, assistant, sometimes the secretary, and…

The barrage of girlfriends he dates.

Julian Marcus has been through as many girlfriends as I have fingers, and that’s since I started working here a few months ago. I swear, every week a new woman in her twenty-somethings (and the occasional thirty-something) parades through this office wearing something Mr. Marcus has recently purchased for her. Their hair colors change. Sometimes their physiques change. Some of them are educated and some of them are so stupid you wonder how they put their bras on in the morning – then you realize they’re not even wearing one. Yet aside from any women he does business with, those are the only ones I see coming in here.

Now, me?

Mr. Marcus’s large, personal office is Spartan at best, drab and impersonal at worst. The furniture is your usual assortment of black wood and black leather. A few tastefully abstract paintings hang on the wall. Lots of potted plants, but none of them real: only deceptively fake, because who knows what business associate might be allergic? The only visible sign of tech is his huge computer monitor and the ergonomic accessories. A dark-finish bookcase lines the wall behind his chair, full of law books, business books, economic books… and a few spare copies of Victorian literature. Later, I’ll replace out that he keeps First Edition copies in his waterfront penthouse.

He sits on the front edge of his desk. It takes a few inches off his imposing height, but he’s still the powerful, dominant figure of the room. The building. I am nothing compared to him. His station, his status, the snap of his fingers that could have men killed halfway around the world… I’m Alyssa. A nobody. A lowly intern who comes from a decent background, but that’s the story of a billion people. There’s a reason nothing remarkable has ever happened to me.

Until now.

Julian peeks at one of the folders. “Alyssa.”

Uh oh. Did I forget something? “Yes, sir?”

The stack of folders ends up on his desk. He’s not going to look at them? After I busted ass getting here? “You’ve been interesting to watch around here.”

He’s going to fire me, isn’t he?

Because there’s no way that voracious look in his eye is about anything other than firing me. He looks me up and down like a piece of scrap about to be thrown into the trash. I’ve screwed up too many times. They’re cutting me loose. I can say goodbye to this nice opportunity to seriously pad out my résumé and get a decent job with my degree I’m still attempting to get…

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, sir.” I step back. Might as well make it easier to get the hell out of here when he fires me. That way he won’t be able to see my tears. Gotta save some sort of face around here.

“Upset me?” His voice takes a slight upturn. It surprises me, but isn’t enough to make me feel any better. “I’m not upset, Alyssa. I’m far from upset. Honestly, though, if you think I called you here for some folders, you’re not as quick as I thought you were.”

“Quick, sir?”

“Quick-witted, of course.” He pushes off the desk and comes closer to me. His cologne magnifies. His presence is overwhelming. I’m a meager person compared to his cool confidence. This is the kind of man who gets whatever he wants.

Whatever he wants.

Why… the hell does that turn me on so much?

I’m a mess. I’m embarrassing. I haven’t been in this man’s office for two seconds and I’m already fantasizing about things I have no business fantasizing about. Namely, I’m fantasizing about him kissing me. Hard. Against his desk. He’d be a helluva man to have a first time with. Not a first time kissing, since I’ve obviously done that before, but a first time… you know…

Fucking.

Don’t wanna think about anything. Don’t wanna have to do anything. Just wanna lie back and let a man who knows what he’s doing have me and take me. I want my first time to be special, you know? It’s gotta feel good. It’s gotta be with someone I see myself spending the rest of my life with, or someone so out of this world I have to jump on the chance to jump his bones.

Julian Marcus definitely fills one of those descriptions.

“I’ve been keeping my eyes on you since you started working here, Alyssa.” The man is a master. He rounds on me, sending me back against his desk. My fingers grip the edge of the mahogany, oak, cherry, whatever the fuck it’s made out of, because I can’t be assed to get details about wood correct right now when my otherworldly boss is looming over me. Is it possible for men to have a come-hither look in their seductive arsenal? Because I swear he’s doing it right now. “Something about you caught my attention. I think it’s your different personality. You’re a breath of fresh air in this office.”

I’m blushing so hard I’m going to combust. “I honestly didn’t think you knew me that well, sir. Or if you did, you were only annoyed with me.”

“Annoyed? How can I be annoyed when you’re the hardest worker around here? You work harder than my useless partner. The only one who works harder than you is me.”

I can’t breathe. He’s coming closer. His body encloses around me. His lips lower toward mine. I can’t fucking breathe.

“You captivate me, Alyssa. That’s not something I say easily. Because I am not an easy man to captivate.”

My sweaty fingers slip off the desk. Julian catches me as I fall off balance. The moment I’m in his arms, I know I’m a goner.

If I had a clear mind, I’d tell my boss to fuck off, because this is soooo not legal. Or ethical. Or realistic.

I’m not in a clear mind, though. I must not be, because I think kissing my boss is the best idea ever.