My Billionaire Boss: The Complete Series: My Billionaire Boss, #9

By Emily Cantore

Delilah's plan worked a little too well...

She thought a low-level job in the records department of the Stone-Black Corporation would allow her to uncover wrong-doings she could show to the world to take the company down. But after only three days she's suddenly promoted to work as executive assistant to Jackson Stone, mercurial billionaire CEO and number #1 on her list of bastards who deserve a slap in the face.

He has a temper.

He has a secret.

He is absolutely gorgeous.

When he punishes her for snooping around his office, she realizes she may be in over her head...
Delilah is introduced to Jackson Stone's dark world of dominance and submission. He makes her his slave and she follows him every shocking step of the way. But will she take revenge for the town his business destroyed or will she follow her indecisive heart?

Suspense, action and erotic romance combine in this story of lust, obsession and dark desire.

This complete version of My Billionaire Boss comes with a bonus 17,000-word novella, Bought: Mr. Money, Part 1.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Cantore
• Release date: Sep 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497705265

Emily Cantore

Emily Cantore has a last name that sounds like some kind of dance and a mind that spends a lot of time thinking about hot and heavy moments. She writes creative smut that is based on true events and true smut based on wild times. Her stories are all works of fiction … except when they're not.   If you enjoyed reading this title, please consider leaving a review (even anonymously) telling the world what you thought of it. Reviews help authors write better books and help readers choose better books!

Book preview

Billionaire Bound: My Billionaire Boss, Part 1

"I've been what?"

I adjusted my glasses and tried to swallow but my throat had gone dry.

Promoted to executive assistant. Take your things, these papers and go to the top floor, Ms. Green, the HR manager, said in a cold voice.

I tried to find my voice but only a croak came out and I felt myself break out in the sweat.

I'd hurry if I were you. Mr. Stone doesn't like to be kept waiting, she said, not looking up from her computer screen.

But I'm meant to be working as a records clerk, I protested. I'd only been at Stone-Black for three days and I'd already been promoted?

And now you're an executive assistant. Take these with you. Good luck with your short-term career. She handed me an elevator fob and waved her hand at a stack of papers.

I picked up the papers and headed in the general direction of the elevator, trying to work out whether I should just walk out the front door. And what did she mean by short-term career?

Executive Assistant to Mr. Jackson Stone. The CEO of Stone-Black and reputed to be a mercurial tyrant who hired and fired people on a whim. I'd only seen his picture on the web - various charity balls, meetings with government officials - and what could I say? The man was hot. Tall with blond hair and blue-green eyes, he was a billionaire to boot. In every photo he seemed to be wearing a scowl as though there was a volcano inside him, barely held in check.

I got halfway to the elevator before I decided to bail on my plan. The Stone-Black corporation had practically destroyed my home-town of Bedford and then gotten away with it via various sneaky legal maneuvers. I thought being hired in the records department was the perfect way to discover something that could topple the whole business. I knew it had been too perfect to get that job and after only three days I had been promoted to executive assistant.

I turned abruptly and crashed directly into a man who'd been striding behind me. I dropped the papers to the ground, along with my bag. Bits and pieces went everywhere.

Oh, I'm sorry, I stammered, trying to pick up all the papers at once from the floor.

A red-leather briefcase came down next to my handbag and its contents strewn across the floor. The man scooped up the contents and put them back into the bag as I gathered the papers.

Ms. Neri?

I swallowed again and croaked something that could possibly have been yes as I followed the line of an Italian suit up to two blue-green eyes.

Jackson Stone. CEO of Stone-Black. Holding my Wal-Mart bag in one hand and a tiny bright red bullet vibrator in the other.

My tiny bright red bullet vibrator. The one hidden down the very bottom of my bag in a separate compartment.

He held my gaze for a moment before dropping the vibrator into the bag and then holding out his palm to me.

I held out my hand and he pulled me to my feet. The website images didn't do him justice. He was tall but broad too and I could feel the strength of his hand on mine.

Jackson Stone, he said and then frowned at me. Weren't you meant to be coming upstairs to serve as my executive assistant?

The way he said serve sent a shiver through my body. The man cut an impeccable figure in his classic dark Italian suit and white shirt. Almost enough to make me forget why I was here. But not quite. I changed my mind about leaving even though I felt my heart thud at the idea of working so closely with him.

Delilah Neri. At least my voice had come back.

He turned our hands clasping into a handshake and looked me up and down. Between my Wal-Mart bag, Kmart skirt, shoes and shirt and red hair-tie that was struggling to hold my chestnut hair back I can imagine how I must have looked: like everything I owned was worth less than his briefcase.

"Delilah Neri, Sir."

Oh, right, I stammered, feeling my fragile resolve leaking away.

He stood, holding my hand and staring directly into my eyes. Waiting.

I took my hand back and smoothed my skirt down.

Delilah Neri, Sir.

He handed me back my bag, picked up his briefcase from the floor and then took the top piece of paper from the mixed-up pile I held in my hand.

These are the handouts going to my investors. You need to put them back in order and then join me on the top floor before we go to the boardroom.

He put the paper back and I glanced down at it. It was numbered page thirteen of eighteen and had a name printed across the top: Javier Toro.

The meeting is in twenty minutes. Don't be late.

With that he strode past me and I knelt down to retrieve the rest of the papers. I gathered the last few and turned around to find Mr. Stone standing behind me. He grabbed my wrist and drew me close to him.

"In that room, you represent me. You do not want to let me down."

He let me go and walked away, this time entering the elevator. I stood there, my heart thumping as he turned around and looked at me before the doors closed. I could still feel his fingers on my wrist, could still smell him - a mixture of soap and masculine scent.

Don't make him wait, Ms. Green said from her desk.

I rushed over to an empty desk and dropped the papers on it before bolting off to the ladies room. The door closed behind me and I grabbed onto a cool ceramic basin, trying to calm myself.

Fuck him.

The thought ran across my mind with every meaning attached. I'd been face-to-face with the CEO of Stone-Black and the urge to slap him in the face for all his company had done was strong. But so was my next thought - to slap him in the face while he pushed me down on a bed. To have him hold down my hands while I struggled. To have him push my legs apart and fuck me.

Fuck, I muttered and turned on the cold water to wash my hands to try to cool myself down. Was I really going to go through with this? My low-level job in the records department was meant to get me something to hurt Stone-Black. I'd hoped for something to embarrass them at least or something bigger to really make them sting. Now I was going to be executive assistant to the Jackson Stone, the CEO whose face and story I'd studied a hundred times. A man I thought I truly hated. And now that I'd seen him in the flesh, a part of me wanted him.

Don't forget why you're here, I told myself in the mirror and adjusted my hair.

I took deep breaths as I headed out to collect and sort the papers.

I can do this.

*

It was a close thing but I got to the top floor with the sorted papers and three minutes to spare. I stepped out of the elevator into a simply gigantic room. Although I only had a few minutes before I was meant to be in Mr. Stone's office, I looked around. The floor was polished wood. Oak? Something golden and delicious. Running from the elevator in a straight line to two giant black mahogany doors was a pale inlay of another type of wood. Over to the right side was a desk and across from it, two floor-to-ceiling windows.

It was, like, ten times the size of my entire apartment. I walked over to the desk and saw it had a metal name plate slotted into a holder on the front of it. Delilah Neri. There it was, etched in metal for all to see. I reached down and touched it with my finger. It moved sideways. It was just a piece of engraved metal, easily replaced. Just like me if I screwed up.

I looked down at the rest of the desk, saw the clock and felt a jolt run through me. LATE! I didn't even have time to put my handbag down.

Rushing without trying to run, I hurried over to the heavy doors and entered Mr. Stone's office.

I thought the previous room was big...

I rushed in, trying to take in what I was seeing without looking like I was. You know? The floor was a darker wood that changed over at the door. There were cabinets of black and red polished wood, Asian-styling and floor to ceiling windows that went almost all the way around.

Mr. Stone was leaning against the front of his desk flicking through a sheaf of papers. His desk! It was gigantic. I think it was at least twice as big as the double bed in my apartment. To the right was another room with the door closed. Private bathroom?

He didn't look up, not at my heels clacking on the wood floor nor when I stepped onto the thick Persian rug that sat under the desk and surrounded it. I approached him, feeling like a doe wandering into a lion's den. I glanced past his shoulder at the spectacular view and my foot caught suddenly on the rug...

Down I went, falling directly forward. There was no way I was letting go of the papers again so down they went with me. I fell directly into Mr. Stone, my face hitting his chest, my lips pressing against his shirt.

I landed on my knees on the rug but managed to save the papers. My handbag hit the ground too but thankfully nothing came out.

He looked down at me with a cruel smile.

On your knees again Ms. Neri?

I stood up and gasped. On his shirt were two red lips pressed together where my face had hit him.

Do you have another shirt? I asked, feeling like I was going to be fired on the spot.

He looked down at the lipstick marks and frowned. He stood up and walked around to the back of his desk.

Lucky for you, I do, he said without a hint of humor in his voice. Turn around, he commanded.

I turned around as he stripped off his shirt. In the polished surfaces of black and red I could see at least six angles of his slim muscular body. I closed my eyes but then immediately opened them again. If I was going to get fired at least I'd enjoy the view.

The papers, he said from right behind me. I jumped and turned around. He was quiet when he moved. Mr. Stone looked at me but I couldn't read his face. Anger? Disappointment? I had a sudden desire to step forward and kiss him. Or for him to pull me in close to him again, grab the back of my neck and kiss me.

I don't like to repeat myself, he said and held out his hand. I gave him the papers and he quickly flicked through them before handing them back.

One to every investor. Match their names and then take notes of anything important. A pad is over there. This way.

He walked past me and I again smelt soap and some indefinable essence of masculinity. I scurried over to the side table, put my bag down, picked up a yellow legal pad and pen and followed him out of the room.

All the while repeating to myself don't freak out don't freak out don't freak out.

*

The meeting went by in a blur. Thankfully there were printed place names for each investor so all I had to do was match the print-outs with the place. The investors were mostly old guys with fat bellies sticking out of suits more expensive that my yearly rent. Mr. Stone was a powerful figure of youth and vitality compared to these old whales, moving about the room as he went over Stone-Black's latest plans regarding renewable energy in South America. I took notes the best I could but even I was caught up in his presentation. A way to bring renewable energy to an entire continent, provide jobs and preserve the environment? This was completely at odds of what I knew about Stone-Black and their history of environmental destruction and legal trickery. Did I have it all wrong about them?

Soon the meeting ended and all the old men waddled out of the board room, smiling at the thought of all the money they'd be making. When the last one left the room, Mr. Stone touched me briefly on the shoulder and pointed at my notes.

Type those up and then bring them to my office in thirty minutes.

He walked off to talk to the investors while I packed up my stuff and scurried off to my desk. This time I wouldn't be caught off-guard or rushing.

I sat down at my new desk and looked down at my notes. My handwriting was doctor-level bad at the best of times. With everything that had happened today it had devolved into some prehistoric hieroglyphics. It would take a team of linguists to translate it.

With a sinking feeling I started to transcribe the scribbled mess.

*

About half an hour later I heard Mr. Stone shout from behind his dark mahogany doors.

Delilah! I said thirty minutes!

I quickly printed what I'd managed to decipher, the printer taking a million years. It finally completed its task and I hurried into Mr. Stone's office with papers and my original notepad.

He was sitting behind his desk glowering at me. Without a word he turned around a digital timer he had on his desk. It read 00:35 and was still counting upwards.

He'd actually timed me?

He held out his hand for the notes. I gave them to him and tried not to look embarrassed as he took out a black pen from his desk and started writing on them.

I glanced down at the ornate chair that sat a little to the side in front of his desk. It was black mahogany like the desk and had a red velvet seat. There were small pieces of gold inlaid on the legs. I'd bet that chair cost more than my entire apartment and maybe the apartments on either side of mine. I wonder how comfy it would be...?

Don't sit down, Mr. Stone said, not looking up.

I looked away from the chair and out the window behind him at the amazing view as though the thought of sitting in that chair had never crossed my mind. How did he know?

Mr. Stone finally finished writing and then gave the notes back to me before waving his hand to the chair for me to sit down. I did and ... oh, comfy.

What do you think of Stone-Black? he asked, looking at me like he could read my soul. Maybe he could. Moving around like a ninja, reading my mind re: chair sitting.

What did I think of Stone-Black? Hmm ... let's see ... environmental destruction, a horde of lawyers, sneaky tricks, probably bribery and big enough to get away with it and keep on getting away with it unless someone stopped them?

Well, a big company being a big company, I said, settling on the safest response.

An answer that isn't an answer, he said. What do you think of me?

Oh no, this was getting crazy. What would I say now? I heard in my three short days in records that he fired people for nearly no reason? That a good half the girls in the building would slip off their skirts if he just asked them to? (And just quietly, a few of the guys too.)

You're a businessman. Young and in control of a growing corporation. Along with your partner, of course.

Of course, he said, a brief flash of disgust crossing his face before vanishing. Was that for my stock answer or for how he felt about his partner? On the subject of Matt Black, the interwebs were a little foggy. Apparently they'd formed their business in college but precisely what Mr. Black did was a bit of a mystery. There was a smattering of charity ball photographs but it seemed he liked to keep a lower profile than even Mr. Stone. They were certainly never photographed together.

But what do they say? he asked, focusing his gaze on me. Don't lie to me.

I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Was this a test? Was the right answer to lie under pressure or to just tell the truth? I decided to go with the truth.

That you're a bastard. A beautiful one, sure, but still a bastard. Perpetually unsatisfied with a crazy temper.

I tried to hold his gaze as I said it but towards the end I just couldn't. I felt like he'd erupt and leap out of the chair at any moment.

We sat there in silence for a moment and then I glanced up at his impassive face. He caught my eye and briefly smiled at me. My god he was handsome. Like he'd just stepped off a modeling shoot. But then his smile vanished and I suddenly felt I was standing at the bottom of a wall of ice a mile high.

He stood up and moved around the desk, looking at me all the while. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy and all I could imagine was him whispering in my ear that he knew all about me. That he'd always known. Then the police would burst in and drag me away to some gulag.

Mr. Stone walked around behind the chair and placed his hands on top of it. His closeness was unnerving. I felt him lean down behind me.

Everything they say is true, he said. His lips were so close to my ear. His scent again, masculine and clean, enveloping me. I closed my eyes and listened.

I am deeply unsatisfied and I need you, Delilah. I want you to be my assistant.

My neck was tingling and sending signals down my body. I felt my nipples harden and rub against my blouse. I heard what he said but it seemed certain body parts only heard I need you, I want you...

I want ... I mean, I will be your assistant, I said, catching myself in time before saying I want you too.

And then he was gone. I opened my eyes to find him back around his side of the desk again, looking at me.

Make those corrections and send the notes to me. I'll be gone the rest of the afternoon. Don't forget your bag, he said.

I stood up and nodded, clutching the notepad like it was the only thing holding me to the ground and walked away, feeling his gaze on me. I saw him reflected in the cabinets and I think ... I think he was looking at my ass! I picked up my bag from where I'd left it on the side table and headed for the door. I needed to get out of here. Before he changed his mind or I broke out into another hot flush with my imagination and body going wild. I put my hand on the door to leave, feeling the cool wood under my palm.

Delilah Neri?

I turned around to see him in profile, looking at something on the computer screen.

I do have a temper and if you disobey me, you will get to see it. One more thing: you are never allowed in this room unless I am here.

I nodded and then got out of the room as fast as I could.

*

Where was it!

I rummaged through my bag again and then took another look around the empty ladies room before emptying the contents out on the bench next to the basins.

My red bullet vibrator was gone. Or temporarily misplaced. Or stolen.

I'd come down here to cool off after my meeting with Mr. Stone and found my mind straying to some very hot ideas. Mr. Stone standing catching me in his office and shaking his head at me as he unzipped his pants... Mr. Stone pulling me across to him for a passionate kiss...

But no.

Cos no red bullet vibrator was anywhere to be found.

I sorted through the contents of my bag again, desperately hoping I'd find it hidden under a screwed up five bucks or maybe hanging out next to an empty chewing gum pack. I scooped everything back into my bag and then stopped, a cold rush flooding through me as I got a sudden image of the vibrator sitting on the rug under Mr. Stone's desk.

I did fall over and land on the ground. Nothing fell out of my bag but maybe I was too preoccupied with saving the papers or smearing my lipstick on his shirt.

Ok, so I didn't have it with me and that meant unless it was hiding near my desk somehow then it was probably on the floor of Mr. Stone's office.

I looked at myself in the mirror for the second time today, again trying to calm myself down. He'd just told me to never go into his office without him there but there was no way I'd let him find that bullet vibrator in there. He'd seen it that morning and knew it was mine. I didn't care what the consequences were. Besides, he was out of the office for the rest of the day.

You can do this, I told my reflection.

My reflection looked back at me with raised eyebrows.

*

I wasn't so dumb as to just go back up there and push the doors open with some stupid excuse on my lips. I went down to the car-park first and saw that his black BMW was gone. So Mr. Stone was out of his office.

Nevertheless, outside his office I stopped and tried to make up an excuse. I ... dropped ... my ... contact lens?

I shook my head at myself and went in.

I ignored the view and the beautiful things all around me. Even the side room which I was curious about. All I was looking for was the red bullet vibrator. I checked under a few cabinets but didn't see it. I walked up to the front his desk and imagined myself falling over, holding the papers, my face heading for his chest, my bag swinging ...

I walked around the other side of his desk and knelt down to check under it. The space under the desk was big enough for three people to fit. I crawled in, looking for the bullet. Again, no luck. I did find something else though: set into the back wall of the desk was a long golden bar. It looked like a crazy expensive bathroom fitting. I ran my finger over it and then pulled on it. It wasn't connected to any secret drawer or anything. It was just connected quiet solidly to the mahogany. I tapped the bar again and then heard a noise. But it was no secret compartment opening. It was the doors opening.

I felt myself freeze into a block of ice as I heard footsteps cross the floor. First loud on the wood and then muffled by the carpet.

Mr. Stone was in his office and I was hiding under his desk. Maybe he'd collect something and