At Her Boss's Command

By Susanna Shore

“Turn around, slowly,” she commanded in her most assertive voice.
“Why? Are you armed?” To Emily’s annoyance, the question was more amused than frightened, and asked with a nicely-cultured, rich tenor unlike any criminal should have.
“Yes, I am.” And she threw the paperweight at him.

It is a battle of wills between Emily Parr and Conor Peters from their first encounter. Emily’s job as a PA depends on Conor, the new CEO. She needs to convince him that she is worth employing, and Conor is not above finding out just how far she is willing to go to keep her job. Soon, their power game moves to a level where she realises that obeying his every command is exhilarating.

Until her heart gets involved.

But everything is not well in the firm. Someone has been embezzling it and the evidence points to Emily. Conor needs to find the real suspect, or see the woman who has become essential to his well-being go to jail.

And then the threatening notes begin to arrive.

Author’s note: I published this book previously in 2012 as Hannah Kane. It has been edited lightly for typos, but is essentially the same book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susanna Shore
• Release date: Feb 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9789527061305

Susanna Shore

Susanna Shore is a historian turned author. She writes Two-Natured London paranormal romance series, P.I. Tracy Hayes mysteries, The Reed Files crime capers, and House of Magic paranormal cozies, as well as stand-alone thrillers and contemporary romances.

Book preview

AT HER BOSS’S COMMAND

Susanna Shore

At Her Boss’s Command

Copyright © 2018 A. K. S. Keinänen

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

No part of this book may be reproduced, translated, or distributed without permission, except for brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogues and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organisations or persons, living or dead, except those in public domain, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover © 2024 A. K. S. Keinänen

Editing: Lee Burton, Ocean’s Edge Editing

www.susannashore.com

Subscribe to Susanna’s newsletter

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

About the Author

Excerpt from Which Way to Love?

Also by Susanna Shore

Chapter One

The storm rose so fast it was above London before Emily realised it was approaching, immersed in her work as she was. She had brushed off the first distant rumbles of thunder as background noise normal to this part of Canary Wharf, and it wasn’t until a lightning flashed so brightly it cast her office briefly in a sharp relief that she looked up, startled. Her muscles protested against their new position, making her wince in pain.

Massaging her neck, she turned to watch the amazing display of force Mother Nature was building outside. Her office was on the twentieth floor of a high-rise in Heron Quays, and the window offered her a great view over the Thames in two directions as the river wound around the Isle of Dogs. The storm was rolling in fast from the east, the lightning striking more and more frequently, the thunder rumbling ever closer, the noise almost ceaseless now.

Thank heavens she hadn’t gone with Michael that afternoon when he’d asked her to join him and his friends. She wasn’t afraid of storms, but the afternoon’s schedule had included outdoor activities that would be ruined now. Not that storm was the reason she’d declined; she hadn’t even known it was coming. She was too busy working—at least for now.

The reason she was working on Sunday instead of meeting Michael’s friends for the first time was because she needed to prepare for the next day when the new owner of Arthur Douglas Ltd would be arriving to take over the business. Or what was left of it.

Emily sighed, her mind as heavy as the sky. She couldn’t understand what had gone wrong with the firm. Arthur Douglas Ltd had been offering financial management services for almost fifty years, and while it had never been one of the big players, it had been a trusted operator. But suddenly their clients had started losing money and, within months, most of them had left the firm. Paying them off had eaten into the company funds, undermining the basis of their operations.

The board had panicked and had forced Arthur Douglas, the dear old man who had owned the firm for decades, to sell the company to Peters Holdings for a fraction of its former value. The experience had left Arthur a broken man. He had told Emily he wouldn’t be present to see the new owner, Cooper Peters, come to claim his prize. There was no point. Peters Holdings wouldn’t be holding its acquisition for very long. They only wanted to get their hands on some of Arthur’s remaining clients and would then merge the operations with theirs. Then Arthur Douglas Ltd would be no more.

Sharp tears of anger prickled Emily’s eyes. She liked Arthur and she loved her job as his personal assistant, the position she had held for over two years. He had been more than a boss. He had been a friend too, or like a favourite uncle.

Arthur had given her the job as his second secretary when she was only nineteen, seeing potential in her she hadn’t known she possessed. Her parents had just died, and she’d had to quit university so that they could pay her older sister Sandra’s studies, so her self-confidence had been low. The old man had liked her enough to see to it that she rose to become his personal assistant by twenty-five. Meanwhile, at only twenty-nine, Sandra was one of the best divorce lawyers in London. Emily was proud of her and didn’t feel like she’d sacrificed anything for her.

But now she would have no education to fall back on if she lost her job.

Sandra had said time and again that she would support Emily in turn. You could finally go to university if you wanted, she had suggested, only the week before. I can easily get a loan to pay for the tuition.

Sandra would be good for her word, but Emily couldn’t just take the offer. Sandra already paid most of the household bills and some of Emily’s expenses too. She should be able to use her money for something she liked for a change. More importantly, it aggravated Emily that she was being forced to make such a choice. She loved her job and her life as a CEO’s assistant. She didn’t want to change her life so drastically for no fault of her own.

And she wasn’t about to, not without a fight. She had a plan. She would make Cooper Peters see that Arthur Douglas Ltd was worth saving, and her job along with it.

Hence her toiling on Sunday.

That’s not going to happen, Sandra had predicted when Emily had told her about the plan. I’ve met Cooper Peters. He’s like a machine. You can’t sway him with emotional arguments.

Emily had been curious. When did you meet him?

During his brother’s divorce hearing last year. Though I represented Conor Peters’ wife, so it’s not like we socialised with each other. Then she frowned. I count that divorce among my biggest failures. I barely got my client a penny. And it was Cooper Peters’ fault.

Since Sandra hated losing, Emily suspected that that had coloured Sandra’s perception of him, so she didn’t let Sandra’s opinion deter her. She might only be a PA, but she had prepared her case carefully and would present it to Mr Peters with the utmost professionalism. Surely he would at least consider saving the company. And if that didn’t work, she planned to be the most effective PA he had ever met, hoping he would offer her another post in his firm. It wasn’t as good as saving the firm for Arthur, but it would be something.

Another bolt of lightning struck, making the lights in her office flicker. Fearing that the power would cut entirely, she saved her work and switched off her computer. She needed to head home anyway. It was so dark outside it must be late. She searched for her wristwatch underneath a pile of papers on her desk, where it had gotten lost—again. She often took it off if she needed to concentrate, so that she wouldn’t become distracted with constantly checking the time.

She found the watch and frowned at the face. Then she shook the timepiece a couple of times to make sure that it was still going. Only five o’clock. The sky was so overcast that it was like night had fallen. Well, as long as it wasn’t raining, she thought philosophically, but as if triggered by her thought, the skies opened with a loud roar. Within moments the buildings across the canal disappeared inside a wall of rain as if they didn’t exist.

Bugger and blast.

It was entirely possible that she had an umbrella, but not very probable. The July weather had been so fine for days that she hadn’t thought to bring one with her. She looked around her small office, as if a brolly would miraculously appear from thin air, but—most surprisingly—it didn’t.

Groaning in aggravation, Emily considered her options. A rain this heavy couldn’t last long. Maybe she could wait it out. As the thunderstorm roared around her, shaking the high-rise with its force, that option grew more and more appealing. And if the storm didn’t ease, she could spend the night in the office. She had a sofa there that was long enough for her to sleep on and she had a wool throw for warmth. It would beat braving the storm.

She was considering her change of clothing hanging in the wardrobe and whether it would be good enough for the next morning, when she became aware of noises coming from the adjoining room. Light was shining underneath the door separating the rooms too.

Someone was in her boss’s office.

Emily’s heart skipped a beat in fright. She was supposed to be the only person there. Her co-workers seldom came to work on the weekends, and Arthur was out of town. His grand-daughter, Fiona, had fetched him to Edinburg to stay with her family for fear that the emotional strain would be too much for him.

So who was in Arthur’s office? An intruder or someone with a legitimate reason to be there? The maintenance, for example.

The dose of common sense calmed Emily and she marched to the door between the offices to check out who it was. There she hesitated. She should take some precautions, just in case.

An umbrella would have made a nice weapon, but the heavy granite paperweight sitting on her desk was even better. She fetched it and, armed, returned to the door. Unable to hear anything over the raging storm, she pressed her ear against the door. No sounds came through it and she was ready to retreat when she saw a shadow pass across the chink of light coming from underneath the door. Someone was definitely in there. Her heart beating frantically in fear and excitement, she took a better hold of her makeshift weapon and yanked the door open.

A strange man was standing by Arthur’s large desk, studying something on it. A flash of lightning cast him in sharp relief, making him seem ominous, and her heart jumped into her throat. He wasn’t from maintenance.

Hold, you fiend! Emily had no idea where the words came from, but they had the desired effect. The intruder froze. His back was turned to her so she couldn’t see his face, but the backside was … fine.

Emily shook her head. This was not the time to get distracted by long legs and shapely buttocks sheeted in distressed, low-riding jeans. Or strong shoulders clad in a white T-shirt, or dark brown hair that was a slightly overgrown mess.

Emily cleared her throat that had suddenly gone dry. Turn around, slowly, she commanded in her most assertive voice.

Why? Are you armed? To Emily’s annoyance, the question was more amused than frightened, and asked with a nicely cultured rich tenor unlike any criminal should have.

Yes, I am.

The man turned around slowly enough to suit Emily’s frightened state, but he clearly wasn’t at all shaken by her sudden burst into the room. He assessed her calmly, as if he was the one in charge, his gaze sweeping up and down her body at a proprietary pace. Annoyed by his boldness, she drew herself upright and tried to stare him down through her nose—a difficult task. He was a good deal taller than her for one, and she was finding his slow study of her body flustering. He didn’t miss a curve.

Then his eyes alighted on the paperweight she was holding like a truncheon and a smile tugged one side of his mouth up and lit his eyes. That’s a paperweight.

So? It can still do some damage, Emily said defiantly.

"Can it