My Dad's CEO: New York Office Romance

By Lila Meier

Dear heaven, he's back!

I can hardly believe it when the news reaches me. Nathan Wood is coming back! He's been away for four years, now he's going to be CEO again in my father's company, where I also work now. Nothing special so far. If you ignore the fact that I will be his personal assistant - and I already fell head over heels in love with him five years ago when I first saw him. At fifteen - with a man who could be my father!

But the worst thing is that my feelings for him haven't changed in the slightest. I realise this now, at the latest, when I see him again for the first time after all this time.

God, I still love Nathan Wood!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookRix
• Release date: Aug 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9783755448747

Book preview

Prologue

Amy

And tonight I want you to behave yourselves, understand? my father admonishes, looking at me sternly across the breakfast table. Especially you, Amy. Your brother is only eleven, but you're almost an adult. I guess it's to be expected of you.

She's fifteen, Ed, Ma speaks up, refilling Dad's coffee. She's still a kid, too.

Dad waves it off gruffly and stares at his mobile phone again. I knew it would come from you. You weren't any better at that age, according to what your parents say. I was already earning money and taking responsibility at that age.

Ah yes, the same old story. I really can't listen to it any more. You have to know that my father's father, my grandfather, whom I never met, abandoned his wife and children when my father was fifteen. My father's mother then suffered from depression, drank her liver to death and could hardly work, so my father had to take care of his younger siblings and somehow also his mother at an early age. As he says, he then probably went out to work after school until late at night to make ends meet. I mean, sure, I'm sorry and all that, but hey, it gets on your nerves when you hear that for the thousandth time, and I'm not him.

At fifteen, you're pretty much an adult, he adds.

Oh, and why doesn't anyone treat me like this here? I ask. Everything is prescribed for me here. Amy, do this, Amy, do that ... If I want to stay out late at night, they say I'm too young.

Life is not all going out and partying, young lady. And even as an adult, sometimes you have to do what you're told.

Especially when they work for you, huh? I really feel sorry for your slaves sometimes.

These are not slaves, but excellently paid employees.

With a boss who doesn't tolerate any opinion but his own, I mutter, and that prompts Dad to look up from his mobile phone after all.

With a warning look.

Careful, young lady. Don't push it too far...

I poke listlessly at my breakfast cereal. Isn't it true ...

Because it is. You have to know that my dad is quite successful. Doing what? Alarm systems. More precisely, with general security technology. He probably pulled his business out of the ground back then and turned it into a million-dollar company in no time. Today, Benkow Security equips the most expensive mansions and largest companies in New York and all of America. Soon, even a branch office is to open in Europe. Well, our family is not short of money. But neither is our father, who often confuses his family with his employees. The commanding tone he actually always adopts is quite annoying, and he always expects everyone to do exactly what he says, preferably by yesterday. Nobody can tell me that he is any different as a boss!

Whereas ...

It's funny that you're kissing that guy's ass like that, I mutter to myself.

Loud enough, though, that my ma looks at me directly, punishingly.

Don't use that kind of language at the table, Amy, she reprimands me immediately. Your brother is sitting next to you, and he's only ...

Yes, yes, I don't even notice the rest any more. My dear innocent brother ... who, by the way, doesn't notice anything of the discussion here because he has his headphones on and is busy with his tablet while eating his sandwich. I should allow myself that! By the way, I'm willing to bet that the songs Carl listens to contain expressions other than ass.

Anyway, my comment has caused Dad to look up from his mobile phone again. He now looks at me with narrowed eyes.

I'm not kissing anyone's ass, young lady, he clarifies.

Sounds different somehow, I reply defiantly. I mean, you own the shop, and ...

This place is a multi-million dollar enterprise that gave your brother and you a carefree childhood in a fifteen million dollar mansion in the Hamptons and ...

Yes, yes, the villa.

The jail ...

Prison, because this damn thing is as good as a high-security prison. Dad is rich and has a company for security technology. Of course, this technology is also used in our home. It looks like this: When you want to enter the house, you first have to enter a code at the door. Then there is an additional security check by fingerprint, and the iris is also scanned. It's not unusual for me to get dizzy from that, but no one here cares. Then a door opens and automatically closes again behind you. Afterwards, you must not forget to confirm who you are by entering a PIN for the alarm system. Otherwise the alarm will go off. And how! The reason I know this so well is that it happens to me quite often that I forget to do this. Oh, and if you want to open a window, you have to enter a code first, otherwise the same thing happens in green. There are cameras on every corner, even in the bathroom. They used to be in my room too, but I protested later and Dad had them taken down. But to this day I still don't really believe it.

Do I really need to mention that my dear father can control all this security technology from his mobile phone while on the move? For him, this has the unbeatable advantage that he can see exactly who from his family leaves the house when and who does what when. Well, and if he doesn't want me to go out because I'm grounded again, he just changes the codes. Well, is the jail really so exaggerated now?

You've never invited an applicant home before, I say after Dad has stopped talking. I didn't even catch what else he said.

Applicant? Young lady, Nathan Wood is not just any applicant! Nathan Wood is CEO at one of the largest security technology companies in Edinburgh. If I really want to make my dream of opening a branch in Europe come true, then I need this very man - as my CEO. Hence the invitation to have dinner with us.

A Scotsman? I ask incredulously. Does he come in a kilt then? I giggle silly as I automatically think of what he might be wearing under his kilt.

Dad looks at me warningly. I'll say it again, young lady: behave yourself. If you scare Wood away and it makes me ...

Then why don't you just let me stay in my room or go away for a while, I say and finish my orange juice. Challengingly, I look at Dad. And that would solve the problem. Well?

Dad shakes his head gruffly. Out of the question, he says, turning back to his mobile phone. We're going to face Wood as what we are: a family.

Yes, beautiful family, I meow, getting up and ducking into my room to pack my things for school. A wife, two kids and their boss ...

But Dad doesn't hear that anymore. Or doesn't want to hear it.

You think all this is really funny, don't you? I grumble at my brother in the evening. Not that he's the least bit interested. He hardly ever looks up from his smartphone. Carl spends practically the whole day in front of a screen. Smartphone, laptop, tablet or TV, something is always on. But I don't want to sit in front of my computer for five minutes without being disturbed and update my Tumblr blog.

No, of course there is always something for me to do. And I'm talking about things that are normally done by the household staff, like taking out the rubbish or putting the dishwasher away. No nonsense, my father has instructed that such things should be left for me. And yes, we really don't have very few domestic servants. Not a whole army, but a housekeeper, Dolores, who comes at seven in the morning and leaves at four, a cook, a gardener and a pool boy. But the latter only come twice a week, so they are not permanent employees.

But anyway, that's not what I wanted to tell you. Where was I? Oh yes, Carl ...

My brother only rolls his eyes briefly and then devotes himself to his smartphone again. He shouldn't even have a Twitter account yet. I've read up on it. But I'm getting off the subject again.

What are you upset about now? he asks, bored.

About our dear father making a big fuss over this Scotsman.

What do I have against Scots? Well, actually the question is quite simple to answer. Nothing at all. It's just that my dad gets on my nerves. He's not the least bit interested in what I'm doing and how I'm doing. The main thing is that I dance to his tune. But for this Scottish superman, we're all supposed to act like it's a perfect world.

It really sucks.

Carl shrugs. He promised me I could go to Comic-Con with Stoner if I played along. I'd be a fool to let that slip through my fingers.

What? I stare at him. This isn't happening now, is it? My little brother got himself bought. With tickets to the comic convention. Honestly? I'm actually not even that upset that he bagged himself the tickets. I'm annoyed that I'm going away empty-handed. Hell, as an older person, I should be the one in control of this stuff. But I'm not like that. I don't just think about myself, but ... Oh, who am I trying to tell?

But then the doorbell rings and it is finally too late to renegotiate. Shit, damn it.

Amy, I hear my mother call from the bedroom. Your father and I aren't quite ready yet. Will you open the door, please?

I briefly toy with the idea of refusing. But what good would that do? At the most, my brother can suck up to my father even more. And that is really the last thing I need. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to get something out of my old man after all if I take part in his little smear theatre.

In any case, it's worth a try.

So I run downstairs and open the door. By the way, Dad has turned off the alarm system for tonight. Funny, huh? He's probably afraid of embarrassing himself if it accidentally goes off for some reason. It's kind of his calling card around here.

Welcome to Casa Benkow, I announce - and actually the saying should go on, but suddenly I have forgotten how language works.

Why? Quite simple.

Before me stands a god.

Not literally, of course. But the man standing on our doorstep could easily be one.

Tall - and when I say tall, I mean really tall. Easily ninety-one, and two-thirds of it leg. Are trousers that tight actually legal? And how does this guy still manage to look respectable?

His hair is dark blond and slightly wavy, his eyes a light grey-blue and - wow! - he has incredibly long eyelashes.

Oh ... and did I mention that he is old enough to be my father?

Good God - why does he look so good anyway?

Hey, he says. You must be Mr. Benkow's daughter. He holds out his free hand to me - in the other he holds a bouquet of flowers, and tucked under his arm is a bottle of wine. I'm Nathan Wood, but my friends call me Nat.

Nat, I repeat lamely, staring at him until I realise what I'm doing. My cheeks burn as I finally grab his hand and shake it. I ... Yeah, I'm Ed's ... I mean I'm my dad's daughter. No! No! No! No! I'm Amy.

Hi, Amy. His smile