Her Billionaire Boss Read online

  She stepped up beside me and looked closely at the picture. She looked to be in the first grade and her bangs were clearly self-cut, down to her eyebrow on one side and up nearly to the hairline on the other. Paired with her toothy grin, it was adorable.

  “My mom was so mad. I had slipped the scissors into my backpack and done a little self-grooming in the bathroom before the pictures were taken. I wanted my bangs to be shorter. You should’ve seen the look on her face when I got home from school that day.”

  Chelsea’s light laughter filled the room, and I found myself grinning broadly. There was such life here, a history of this woman. I felt that I was seeing her so clearly now.

  Coming here had been an impulse, but it was starting to feel almost like destiny.

  Chapter 15

  Chelsea

  It was surreal to have Jay in my childhood home. He seemed endlessly interested in everything here, asking questions about growing up in a small town and my relationship with my sister. He made me feel like the most interesting person he’d ever met.

  He’d also burst out into laughter when he came across a picture of me in my high school band uniform, holding my saxophone. I had to admit, his guess on that one had been pretty close.

  We were currently in the kitchen and I was watching Jay with amazement. He was standing at the kitchen island with a cutting board and an assortment of ingredients in front of him. He was making soup.

  “Rest and medicine are great, but this soup here, this is what’ll heal him,” he said, talking about my dad, who was propped up in the living room recliner, watching his favorite movie: To Kill A Mockingbird.

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself,” I said, stealing a sliver of carrot off the cutting board and popping it into my mouth as I sat on a stool on the other side of the island.

  “First of all, confidence is the key to success. Secondly, this is my grandma’s recipe and the woman knows what she’s doing. She made this for me every time I got sick growing up.”

  I watched as he chopped vegetables and created a chicken stock in the largest pot my dad owned. He was making enough soup to feed an army, but I supposed that leftovers would be a good thing. He had a certain rhythm as he worked; it was almost like there was music playing that only he could hear.

  He took his time, clearly caring about the quality of the food he was making. Who would’ve thought a billionaire could cook like this?

  “So, I suppose your grandma taught you to cook like this?” I asked.

  “Of course. Dad, too. We had a Sunday family dinner tradition when I was growing up. Grandma dragged us out of bed for church, forcing me into a suit, and after the service, we’d come home and it was all hands on deck in the kitchen. It was a time for the family to be together. And grandma insisted on a feast. We always seemed to have chicken for some reason. Fried chicken, roasted chicken, chicken and noodles, stuff like that. Homemade pies were also a staple of the meal, but she always made that herself.”

  “That all sounds delicious,” I said, suddenly starving. The soup was filling the kitchen with its rich scent.

  “It was, and it taught me a lot,” he said, gathering up chopped celery and onion from the cutting board with both hands, dumping it into the steaming pot.

  “Clearly.”

  “You know what? You just head into the living room and relax. Spend some time with your dad. I’ve got this all under control.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Who’s the boss here?”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, holding my hands up in front of myself defensively. I slipped off the stool and made my way into the living room.

  I took the closest seat to my dad, on the end of the couch. I had made sure he was comfortable in the chair, with tissues on the table beside him and a blanket draped across his legs. He had barely left the spot all day.

  “How you feeling, Dad?” I asked, my eyes scanning his face.

  “Well, I’m not any worse,” he replied, looking over at me with a tired smile.

  “Maybe you should go back to bed after you eat your soup.”

  “He sure is hard at work in there, isn’t he?” he asked, looking into the kitchen at Jay, who didn’t seem to notice we were both watching him.

  “Yeah, he’s something,” I replied with a breathless sigh.

  “And you’re smitten.”

  “What? Am not.” I ripped my gaze away from the kitchen and focused on the TV. It was in the middle of Atticus’ dramatic courtroom speech.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said reassuringly. “He’s interested in you too. Why do you think he’s here?”

  “Well, he said he was coming so we could get some work done.”

  “Riiiight,” he replied, dragging out the word. “And how much of that work have you guys done?”

  “Well, we talked about it a bit over breakfast, but…”

  “Exactly.”

  “We just got distracted with other things,” I defended lamely, not even sure why I was trying to deny that there was something going on between us.

  “Right, of course. There are so many distractions,” he said, nodding. “But, just so you know, I approve.”

  “You approve?”

  “Yeah. I like the guy. I like the look on his face when he looks at you as if he’s staring at the center of his universe. I like that he’s here for you right now, helping you take care of an old man.”

  “You’re no old man,” I said, choosing not to respond to the rest of his statement, even though it made my heart flutter in my chest.

  “That may be, but I know you worry. For no good reason, might I add.”

  “Says the man with pneumonia.”

  “Well, you got me there,” he replied with a laugh that, for once, didn’t end in a coughing fit.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Jay called from the kitchen, and I got up to get a bowl for Dad, his assessment of Jay’s feelings toward me still ringing in my ears.

  After dinner, my dad went into the bedroom and laid down, so Jay and I decided to leave the house for a bit. I figured I’d treat him to some ice cream at the best homemade custard shop in the state. At least, that was my personal opinion.

  We were only a few blocks away from the shop, so we decided to head out on foot. As we walked side-by-side, the backs of our hands occasionally brushed against each other. Every time it happened, all the nerve endings in my body seemed to come to life.

  It took far longer than necessary to get to the shop because we passed so many people along the way that wanted to stop and talk to us. Everyone wanted to catch up and find out how I was doing in San Jose. I also had the feeling that a lot of them were burning with curiosity about my handsome companion. That was what life was like in a small town like this. Gossip ran rampant, and there was no way you’d be allowed to walk down the street with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome without the busybodies swooping in.

  This would be the hot talk in the beauty parlor all week, not to mention the men in the hardware store that would likely pick apart Jay’s worth based on nothing but their guesses about his handyman abilities. It was a good thing I had stopped worrying about such things a long time ago.

  It had been twilight when we left the house, but by the time we arrived, the sky was fully dark. The ice cream shop was bright in contrast, with a large lit-up sign in the shape of an ice cream cone. It was mounted on the front of the building and spun in a slow circle above the words Tracy’s Frozen Treats.

  Jay held the door open for me and we walked into the shop, with its white floors and pink walls. The colors could be a bit overwhelming, but the ice cream was delicious enough to overlook such a thing. There were several round metal tables with matching chairs scattered throughout the shop, most of them two-seaters. The long ice cream case spanned the entire wall facing the door of the establishment, and there were fifteen flavor options under the curved glass.

  There were only three other people in the shop: a couple that was clearly on a date an
d sharing a banana split, and an older man sitting by himself and watching people walk by on the street as he ate his small cup of vanilla. Jay and I stepped up to the counter, and I waited while he scanned the contents in the case. I already knew what I wanted to order, having established a favorite flavor years ago.

  “Hey there, Chelsea. I didn’t realize you were back in town.” Phoebe, a girl I went to high school with, greeted me with a warm smile from behind the counter. Her pink and white uniform was clean, even though her apron had spots and dribbles of ice cream staining the surface.

  “Just here for a visit.”

  “Well, it’s good to see you. What can I get you guys?”

  “I’ll take a small sugar cone of the chocolate and peanut butter swirl,” I said.

  “And you, sir?” I saw Phoebe’s eyes darken as she turned to Jay, clearly noticing how attractive he was.

  “A large double chocolate cone, please,” he said, flashing her a smile. I swear she swooned a little bit.

  It was the work of a few short moments for Phoebe to get our desserts ready and hand them over. I led Jay to a seat near the counter, and we sat across from one another.

  “So, you certainly know a lot of people here,” Jay said as we ate.

  “Well, you know, small towns and all,” I shrugged.

  “It’s nice. I’d never considered living outside of the city, but this small-town feeling is nice. Peaceful.”

  “It does have its perks,” I agreed. “The downfall is a lack of career opportunities.”

  “Well, I, for one, am glad that you decided to move to San Jose to follow your ambitions.”

  “You know what?” I said thoughtfully, looking into his eyes. “I am too.”

  We were already sitting so close, with the table between us less than two feet wide, and the atmosphere of the shop was somewhat romantic. As I looked at the desire in his eyes, I felt my breath shorten and an undeniable craving, one completely unrelated to ice cream, stole over my senses. I couldn’t stop myself this time; I didn’t want to.

  Leaning forward, I saw Jay do the same. My eyes drifted shut, and I tilted my head slightly to the right, my lips parting slightly. A second later, I sensed Jay’s closeness before he finally pressed his soft lips against mine, causing my world to explode in a burst of fireworks that took my breath away.

  Chapter 16

  Jay

  I woke up with a stiff back the next morning. Sleeping on the couch for the last two nights had caused my muscles to ache, and I was going to need to book an appointment with my masseuse soon. It was worth it, though. I was glad I had come to Clifton.

  After our heart-racing kiss last night, Chelsea and I had walked back to her dad’s house holding hands and shared one more kiss before coming inside. Then, she had disappeared upstairs to her bedroom while I settled in downstairs.

  I groaned as I stood up, reaching my hands above my head in a full body stretch. Both my shoulders popped, and I let out a sigh of relief. I pulled my shirt back down to cover my stomach just as the sound of light footsteps on the stairs announced Chelsea’s arrival. Seconds later, she bounced into view, a mega-watt smile on her face.

  “Good morning,” she said. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that bounced back and forth as she walked. She had her carry-on bag in one hand, and her shorts showed off her long legs.

  “Like what you see?” she asked with an amused voice after a moment. Busted.

  “Sure do, but we should probably talk about what’s going on between us.”

  “Okay.” Her expression was serious as she took a seat on the edge of the couch. She looked like she was bracing herself for a disappointment.

  “Dating each other is going to be a problem at work,” I started. Chelsea nodded, looking resigned. “But don’t get ahead of me. I’m not saying this can’t happen. We just need to keep it a secret for now.”

  “But what’s the long-term plan?”

  “I think we need to see if this has potential to go the distance. Then we’ll talk about our options.”

  Chelsea was quiet for a long moment, looking thoughtful. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind as I waited. I started to worry she was going to hurt herself, nibbling so forcefully on her lip.

  “My career is so important to me. I can’t have anything jeopardize it.”

  I knelt in front of Chelsea so that we were eye-to-eye and took her hand in my own. I made sure to maintain eye contact as I spoke so that she could see that I was sincere.

  “Nothing is going to happen to your career. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “You promise?” she asked, her voice full of hope. “Because I really want to pursue this with you.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I promise.”

  As Chelsea leaned forward and connected our lips in a chaste kiss, my heart soared. Little did I know just how hard keeping my promise was going to be.

  We got back to San Jose on Sunday evening and went our separate ways. It was shockingly difficult to walk away from Chelsea, despite spending the whole weekend together. Everything between us was so new and exciting; I couldn’t seem to get enough time with her.

  Monday morning, I wanted to hug her when I walked into the office and saw her sitting at the desk, but I couldn’t do that.

  “Hello, Miss Perrelle,” I greeted her formally. In truth, I’d been calling her by her first name since we started working together, so there was a possibility that I was overcompensating a bit. The weight of my promise to her, that this relationship wouldn’t affect her career goals, was heavy on my mind.

  “Morning. How was your weekend?” she asked, sending a subtle wink my way. She was much better at this than me.

  “Pretty great,” I replied. “One of the best ever.”

  I turned and walked into my office, leaving the door open in case she wanted to come in. When I reached my desk, I saw my normal cup of coffee waiting there, along with a single Hershey’s chocolate kiss.

  Yep. She was way better at this. I’d have to step up my game.

  We hadn’t gotten to any of the work that I had planned on over the weekend since the whole experience had morphed into the beginning of a relationship. So, I had plenty to do today.

  Chelsea and I didn’t get the chance to spend any time together until we had a meeting with our contact at the marketing company in the early afternoon. We headed into the conference room together but were careful not to touch as we passed the offices of other executives, their own assistants positioned outside the office doors.

  There was no opportunity to act like a couple once we were there either, as the walls were made of glass, meaning that anyone walking by could see inside. I took a seat at the head of the table as we waited for the third member of our group to arrive.

  Chelsea walked around behind me to sit on my left side, briefly trailing her hand across my shoulder blades as she passed. I felt a jolt of electricity shoot down my spine at the sensation, but then she pulled away. When she took her seat, I saw a teasing smile at her lips. I smirked, feeling the tension in the room as I longed to be closer to her. Mark, the man we were waiting for, chose that moment to arrive and I pushed all those thoughts aside forcefully.

  “Mark, it’s nice to meet you,” I said, standing as he walked in. “I’m Jay, and this is my assistant, Chelsea.”

  He shook both of our hands, lingering just a bit longer than I liked while touching Chelsea. I thought I saw a gleam in his eyes but told myself it was just paranoia. Still, I got right down to business.

  “So, I received the report you sent this morning and printed out a copy for all of us to go over.” I opened the manila folder in front of me and handed out the papers.

  “Yes, very good. Well, as you can see here, we conducted a total of twenty-five hundred surveys among students and identified six areas that we recommend you cover in your higher education platform. Admission, enrollment, advising, financial aid, academic records, and curriculum. There’s further breakdown in th
e report, but the idea is that students have told us these categories cover everything from the beginning of their college experience to the end.”

  “I see,” I said, examining each category listed on the paper closely.

  Mark continued on, talking for almost an hour as we covered the elements that should be included in each category, such as a portal for scheduling appointments with advisors and financial aid eligibility evaluations. It covered nearly everything Chelsea and I had already discussed, but we would still need to contact the institutions themselves for further analysis.

  As the meeting drew to a close, Chelsea left the room with Mark’s parking ticket to validate it for him. This left Mark and I alone in the room, and he let out a low whistle. I followed his gaze and saw that he was staring at Chelsea, who was bent over, digging around in her desk drawer for the stamp she needed.

  “Wow. Tell me you’re hittin’ that,” he said, his voice deeper than it had been a moment ago.

  “No, she’s my assistant,” I responded, fighting the urge to lash out at him for looking at her like a piece of meat. A feeling of deep dislike settled over me.

  “You’re a fool then. Assistants will do anything to get ahead; you could make good use of that one.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” I said sharply.

  “What? I’m just saying she’s hot.”

  I knew she was hot but I wasn’t going to admit that to this creep.

  “Well, keep that to yourself. And while we’re at it, stop looking at her like that.”

  Mark looked at me with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to figure something out.

  “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

  “What? No. I’m just telling you to show her some respect.”

  At that moment, Chelsea walked back into the room, all smiles and completely oblivious to the negative charge in the air.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing the validated parking ticket to Mark.