Bargaining with the Billionaire : A Billionaire Romance

By Melissa Rose

A desperate woman let's a wealthy man take her on a kinky journey of self-discovery. With his love and patience, she sets out on a journey to find herself and the power that was within her all along.

When twenty-two-year-old secretary Shawna Jones finds herself fired from her job for seemingly no reason, she is dreading facing the owner of Furst Industries, Eric Furst. It was bad enough she'd been humiliated in front of the entire department, but having an exit interview with the elusive, thirty-year old billionaire wasn't on her list of things to do. She needed a new job and she needed one quick. She didn't have time for formalities.

But Eric sees something in her that intrigues him, and instead of letting her walk away, he offers her a series of jobs escorting him to fundraisers and other events. When he invites her to Vegas to enjoy a weekend in his new risqué BDSM themed hotel, Shawna finds out that there's more to this man than a handsome face. But what she finds out about herself is even more surprising.

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This is a standalone novella with a guaranteed HEA.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Rose
• Release date: Feb 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386362838

Melissa Rose

Melissa Rose is an author based out of small town in Georgia. Happily married, she and her husband share their home with their two beautiful children. Although her interests are numerous, she enjoy writing mainly steamy romance novels, that star hot, in-charge alpha males and their smart, sexy female lovers and companions. Melissa first got into writing when she was fifteen. She was attracted to romance early on, and she enjoys entertaining her friends and family wither stories. An avid reader as well, she draws influence from a variety of sources, including her own experiences. She tells stories in order to make the world a brighter place and to bring joy to her readers, each of whom she considers a friend.

Book preview

Chapter 1

"C an you do anything right, or is gross incompetence your thing ?" the male voice sneered in her ear, almost making her jump out of her skin. 

Shawna Jones pushed a strand of wavy blonde hair that had fallen from her bun out of her face and tucked it behind her ear in a nervous gesture before she continued typing. She’d been working on the document all day and had even skipped lunch, but the workload was impossible, and once again, Richard Lange was yelling at her in the middle of the bullpen, belittling her for anyone and everyone to hear.

I’m sorry, Sir, she said, angry at how her voice shook but she needed this job. 

Shawna couldn’t go back to flipping burgers and barely making ends meet. This job had been a godsend and there was no way she could go back to the life she once led. 

She didn’t stop typing, her fingers tapping out the keys quickly, but not quickly enough. It didn’t matter that her back was sore at the end of a nine-hour day without a break, and she didn’t care that she was supposed to get off work thirty minutes before. She had to finish the job he gave her or else she would be canned. He’d made that clear daily since she’d landed the job six months before. 

I can’t take any more of your crap, Richard ground out, his voice menacing and loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Shawna’s back went rigid and she held her breath.

Please don’t fire me, she thought, fighting back tears. Please.

Richard’s hand swept across her desk, wiping everything that wasn’t the computer off the desk and onto the floor in a grand, sweeping gesture. 

There, I started the packing process for you. Get your things and get out. We’ll send your last check to you tomorrow.

I’m almost done, she said, typing even though she was trembling so badly that she started mistyping.

Don’t make me have you escorted out of here, he said.

He sounded amused, and with a sick feeling, she realized that he was getting excited humiliating her in front of everyone.  She wanted to cry but she refused to give him the satisfaction. She stood, rolling over his foot as she pushed back the chair and doing her best not to laugh as he howled in pain.

He yelled, and she ducked, grabbing her purse out of the drawer and running out of the large office as fast as she could, the tears flowing before she got on the elevator.

She could still hear him cursing her name when the doors closed, and she was thankful that there was no one on the elevator to see her shame.

Why would there be anyone on the elevator? The only department that stays for hours after closing time was the secretary pool.

Everyone else clocked out right at five o’clock, the employees of Furst Industries smiling as they left, just like they were when they arrived in the morning. The company had a reputation for taking care of its people; except for its lowest paid, entry level workers. People like Shawna worked long and hard with the bare minimum in benefits and Shawna hadn’t seen anyone crack a smile in the bullpen for days. Just like everywhere else Shawna had ever been, there were those that made a killing, and those that broke their backs for the rich to get richer. Hiring on at Furst Industries hadn’t changed her status in life, it had just improved her bank account.

But she didn’t work for Furst Industries anymore, and now she was going to have to spend Friday searching frantically for a job and hoping that she had something lined up for Monday morning. She would miss a full day of pay, but if she could find something, then she could work through the gap in pay. 

At least then, she wouldn’t lose her apartment and her car. She had some savings, but it wouldn’t hold her for more than a month. She needed to find work fast, and she needed to have a job by next week or she was screwed.

Chapter 2

Shawna woke up the next morning feeling positive, the warm spring sun filtering in through her window as the city of Dallas woke up and greeted the day.

Shawna had lived in one part of Dallas or another all her life. At twenty-two, she had lived more than most people she knew, and her tenacity and persistence were borne of a desire to get out of the poverty she had been born into. With steel resolve, she got up and made a quick breakfast, then started calling every business that had an ad online looking for employees.

By the time she took a break for lunch she realized that getting a job like the one she’d had at Furst was going to be nearly impossible. Every conversation had gone about the same. They started out cordial, but when she discussed her reason for leaving Furst Industries, the tone changed and the once friendly voice on the line was suddenly ending the call as quickly as possible. 

Shawna hung up the phone, sighing heavily and fighting back tears. This wasn’t working out like she thought it would; she hadn’t even gotten past the phone interview to land an in-person interview. 

Her phone rang and her stomach clenched when Furst Industries came up on the caller id. She answered it, holding her breath after she said hello and hoping it wasn’t Richard Lange.

Miss Jones? a female voice asked warmly.

Speaking, she said, closing her eyes and grimacing at how weak her voice sounded.

Grow a backbone, Shawna, she thought angrily.

I need you to come in and pick up your last check and sign a few papers.

I thought you would send it to me, she said.

No, the woman said, sounding confused. The check that posted to your account at midnight this morning was already deposited before you were let go. But the payment for this week and your accrued sick days and vacation hours was cut today and you’ll need to pick that up in person.

Sick days and vacation hours? she repeated.

"Yes. You didn’t take any sick days and even though you hadn’t reached your one year anniversary so that you could take your vacation, you still accrued hours that we are required to pay you by law."

Can I ask how much it is?

The entire check or just the accrued hours?

The entire check.

Two thousand fifty-seven dollars and fourteen cents.

Shawna sat down hard in her chair. 

What? she said, not believing what she was hearing.

You only worked four days, so your payment for the week was only six seventeen fourteen, then you had a week of vacation at seven hundred and twenty dollars and a week of sick days available, which also came out to seven hundred and twenty dollars. All of this is after tax, of course, which is why it sounds a little low. Unfortunately, you didn’t qualify for severance pay since you were let go for job performance.

Shawna ignored the last sentence, her smile too big for her to care. The check they were giving her was almost three times what she usually made in a week. Plus, she’d forgotten that today was her weekly payday, bringing the grand total to just under twenty-eight hundred dollars. She had time to find a job, though she wasn’t going to waste precious time throwing herself a pity party. But she could rest today and this weekend, then hit the job search hard on Monday. She still didn’t have a job and she was going to have to find a way to spin getting fired, but she had some room to breathe, and that made all the difference in the world.

When can you come in? the woman asked patiently.

I’ll be there in thirty minutes.

See you then, the woman said, then hung up the phone.

Shawna hopped into the shower and got dressed quickly, heading out the door with her hair still wet and hanging down her back in loose waves. As she got into her car she checked out her reflection in the mirror and almost laughed. Richard Lange required a strict, stereotypical secretary look for his floor, and he detested loose hair. She wouldn’t have to see him, because Human Resources was one floor up from where she had worked. But knowing that she was breaking the rules felt good, and for the first time since she walked out of those doors the night before, she felt like herself again.

She drove down I-35, and headed to Furst Industries, excited to collect her check and trying to get herself pumped up for her fresh start.

You’ve got this, Shawna Jones, she told herself. 

She was going to own this change of plans and turn it into something better than she’d ever imagined.

Chapter 3

Y ou’re all done, the woman said, smiling kindly at Shawna as she gathered the last of the papers that Shawna had to sign before she left.

And my check?

Oh, you’ll get that after your exit interview with Eric.

Eric?

"Eric Furst, she said. You know, the President of the company?"

What? Why? Shawna asked, panicking suddenly.

Don’t worry about it. Eric likes to do exit interviews personally. He wants to make sure that this is the best place to work and he wants to know why people leave.

I got fired.

He knows that. But knowing why you weren’t able to succeed at this company can help him improve training and mentoring programs in the future. It’s really not a big deal, but he won’t give you your check until you meet with him.

The woman pointed to an elevator at the other end of the room. 

You can take that elevator. It only goes to his office.

Shawna nodded, feeling like she was the lamb going to slaughter but there was nothing that she could do about it. She needed that money and Eric Furst was the only person standing between her and walking out that door with what amounted to almost a month’s worth of paychecks. 

She stepped onto the elevator and immediately regretted her casual look and her loose hair. No doubt Richard had told Eric Furst that Shawna was unprofessional and a waste of space. She hadn’t meant to show up looking like the part.

The elevator dinged long before she was ready, and she stopped off the elevator car and straight into a large office with an empty desk.

He’s not even here.

A door opened behind the large desk just as she had those thoughts and a young-looking man with short brown hair and hazel eyes looked at her and waved her in.

Sorry, he said. I’m between personal assistants right now and I’m having to greet my own visitors.

She followed him through the door, then almost gasped aloud when she walked into a huge room that looked like a page straight out of a magazine. 

Nice, right? he said, gesturing to a chair across from him. 

He sat on a low sofa and only a coffee table sat between them. She was hoping for the large desk off to her left, but apparently, Eric Furst liked to be a lot less formal.

So, I hear you’re leaving us, and I wanted to find out why that is, he started, offering her a cup of coffee, which she waved off.

I got fired, she said.

I knew that, Eric said, his eyes twinkling. I guess I was hoping for some insight about what you think we could do better to help support someone like you in the future. I don’t like losing employees, even when they’re, he paused, looking down at a piece of paper and reading, ‘grossly incompetent.’

Shawna sighed. She didn’t want to have this conversation, but she also didn’t want him to think that she was