Men With Power: Seduced by a Billionaire Read online

  Men With Power: Seduced By a Billionaire.

  Adora Bell

  I look in the mirror and sigh. It still doesn't look right. I pull the shirt off over my head and fling it to the floor, joining several others in the reject pile. First days at work are always nerve-wracking, but I feel like if I can just look the part, I might stand a chance of fitting in.

  “Iris, you look fine, just hurry up or you'll miss your train.” My mother, waiting to give me a ride to the station, is starting to get impatient. But fine is not going to cut it at Jensen and Van Bleke. I fought my way through three rounds of interviews to score this prestigious internship, and I want to make the right first impression. I try a plain white blouse with a v-neck, and examine my reflection critically. I look good, sure...but even in my smart new suit, I'm not sure how business-like I look. There's something about the curve of my hips, the way my E-cup breasts fill out my jacket, that I fear looks a little...slutty? Sometimes I wish I had a figure more like my friends', lean and leggy like the girls in magazines. But my body is all hourglass curves. Still, I love my narrow waist, the slim taper of my legs in my new hold ups. I slip on my jacket, straighten my skirt, and try to pull myself together. After all, I have my lucky panties on, what could go wrong?

  Carefully climbing the steps in my new high heels, I feel my stomach lurch. Even the building looks imposing. Impeccably dressed, polished looking people are striding through the marble lobby as if they have extremely important places to be. Feeling horribly out of place, I wobble towards the reception desk. The receptionist, who probably does this job in between modelling shoots, eyes me coldly.

  "I'm Iris, um, Iris May...I'm the new intern."

  She cracks a perfect smile.

  "Iris, of course, Mr Jensen is expecting you. I'll show you upstairs."

  Rae turns out to be far less of an ice queen than she looks, and fills the elevator ride to the 27th floor with friendly chatter. She's a wannabe actress, rather than a model. Guess I should learn not to judge from appearances. She deposits me in a small seating area in the corner of the office, and bustles away to find coffee. I scan the desks, wondering what my coworkers will be like. Suddenly, the hairs on my neck tell me someone is watching me, and I find myself staring straight into the gaze of a young man across the room. I feel myself flush. He is the epitome of the up and coming businessman, smart suit, hair arranged just so. His eyes are a startling shade of green, and I feel them take me in from head to toe. I have heard the phrase 'undressing me with his eyes' before, but never really understood it until now. I can do nothing but stare back, and will my face not to turn the irritating shade of crimson it seems to love so much. Without smiling, Mr Green Eyes releases me, turning his gaze back to his computer screen.

  I take a deep breath and try and compose myself, since Rae is back and ushering me towards my new boss' office. I've spoken to Mr Jensen multiple times on the phone, always picturing a distinguished older gentleman, a whisky-drinking, pipe-smoking type. So I'm a little taken aback at the youthful figure sat behind the heavy oak desk. I mean, he's older than me - mid-40s probably, judging by the sprinkling of salt in his pepper black hair. But his athletic figure is still evident beneath his crisp blue shirt. He isn't wearing a jacket or tie, and as he stands up to shake my hand, I see he's wearing chinos. Not a suit kind of guy, I think, as my eyes linger a little too long on the bulge in the front of those expensive looking pants. I grip the edge of my chair as I sit down, telling myself to stop it. It's not my fault this company only seems to employ insanely gorgeous people, but I'm here to get ahead in my career, not ogle the talent.

  "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to meet you on your interview day, Miss May. May I call your Iris?"

  "Of course, Mr Jensen."

  "Evan, please. Mr Jensen's my dad. It's a beautiful name, by the way, Iris. You don't hear it much these days."

  "It was my grandmother's."

  "How nice."

  We exchange a few more pleasantries, then he escorts me over to my desk. My very own desk! Lame, I know, but suddenly I feel very important. Evan pulls my chair out and motions for me to sit.

  "Madame, " he says, giving me a wink. I'm pretty sure he's married, going by the family photos on his desk, but he's still quite the flirt. He crouches down by my chair as he shows me how to log in to the system, and his hand rests on the arm of the chair, dangerously close to my thigh. I can smell his aftershave, subtle but masculine, and despite myself I feel a rush of desire. For an older man, he's undeniably sexy. He's still talking, outlining the checklist of tasks that will fill my days. Do all interns get their initial training from the big boss, I wondered?

  "Of course, once you've settled in a bit, we'll be looking to involve you in some more interesting projects. Provided you show promise, which...I'm sure you will."

  I swear he stole a glance at my cleavage as he said it. But no, surely not. He's just being friendly, I told myself. I tugged my blouse up a little just in case; maybe I should have worn something with a higher neckline.

  Evan straightens up and checks his watch.

  "I'm afraid I have to abandon you already, Iris, the head of the US branch is in from New York and I have to take him for a breakfast meeting. Although I'd rather chat with you, to be honest, all the man ever talks about is bloody baseball. Now where on earth is George...he's going to be your mentor while you're with us. Ah, right on time, morning George."

  I look up with a sinking feeling, already knowing what awaits me. Yes, of course, Mr Green Eyes is striding across the office towards us, and I find myself trapped between two absolute sex gods, hoping I can will my lips to spit out something halfway intelligent. I stand up awkwardly and extend my hand.

  "I'm Iris. Nice to meet you."

  "George. Welcome to the madhouse." It's phrased like a joke, but his voice shows not a trace of humour. His hands are cool and soft.

  "Well then, I'll leave you in George's capable hands," Evan says cheerfully. "It really was ever so nice to meet you, Iris. I'm sure you have a very bright future at this company." I find myself blushing again as I mumble a goodbye. My guess was correct; as Evan strides down the corridor, the rear view is every bit as tasty as the front. And now I'm alone, with Mr Green Eyes himself. He doesn't look too happy to be stuck with me.

  "I'm afraid I'm very busy this morning, Iris, so the tour is going to have to wait. You're a bright girl, I'm sure you can locate the tea making facilities without me holding your hand."

  "I'm sure I'll manage," I say, flashing him my best smile in the hopes of softening him up a bit. Not a flicker in return.

  "Let's hope so. How fast do you type?"

  "Um, about 70 words a minute..."

  "That will do." He plops a sheaf of hand written notes on the desk in front of me. "If you could get these finished and emailed to me by 3pm, that would be a huge help."

  I give a little mock salute. "No problem, sir!"

  Still no smile. Good grief. With a small sigh, I open up the word processor and get to work.

  Things improve as the morning goes on. A few of my new co-workers pop by my desk to introduce themselves, and one of the PA’s brings round some home made cookies. They seem like a friendly bunch. A few times, as my fingers clatter over the keys, I get the sensation that somebody's watching me. But when I look up, everyone is engrossed in their own tasks. I glance over at George, but he is talking energetically into his blue-tooth headset, gesturing to nobody in particular. Around 12.30, Rae sashays between the desks towards me, waving a large stack of envelopes.

  "You got mail! Well, the company did, but you get to sort it. Lucky thing, more exciting than most of my morning." She places the
pile on top of George's notes. "Now, do you fancy lunch?"

  Before I have a chance to protest, Rae has whirled me round the corner to a little cafe, and ordered on my behalf.

  "The Caesar salad here is, like, to die for. Honestly. And these guys make the best cappuccino in town, brought the machine over all the way from Italy. I'm hooked, I have to ration myself or I'd be wired on caffeine all day. "

  I nod, and take a sip of the creamy foam. Wow, she wasn't kidding, this stuff is good.

  "Anyway, sorry, I talk way too much. You might have noticed. Tell me more about you - you just graduated, right?"

  "Yeah, I wanted to get some work experience before I went to law school. I was really lucky to score this internship. It seems like a really nice company."

  "It's not a bad place, better than some I've worked at. And did I hear you're working with George? Is he not the hottest thing you've ever seen?"

  She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and we both laugh.

  "He's pretty handsome, I'll give him that. But I don't think he likes me much."

  "Oh ignore him, that's just George. He'll warm up eventually. He's one of those posh, stiff upper lip types, raised by nannies and boarding schools no doubt."

  "I hope so. Evan seems nice."

  Rae seems to falter for a second, an expression on her face that I can't quite decipher. "Yeah, Evan's a good boss. Made his first million by age twenty, but he likes to be quite, um, hands-on with the company. Really clever guy."

  "Bit of a flirt though, from what I've seen..."

  She seems to relax a bit when I say that. Maybe she thought I was the sweet, innocent type, ready to have her head turned by the man in charge.

  "He's charming alright. What about you, do you have a boyfriend?" She misinterprets my wince. "Oh, or a girlfriend?"

  "Um, no, neither. Bit of a long story...college sweetheart, bad break up. It's fine though, just...still a bit fresh..."

  "Ah, I know that feeling. Always sucks, but you know what they say, plenty of fish in the sea!"

  She lifts her cappuccino cup and we clink, and giggle again. I am beginning to really like Rae.

  I email my reports over to George at 2:55, but receive only a terse 'thank you' in his return email. He doesn't come over, or send any further instructions, so I occupy myself opening and sorting the mail. Five o'clock comes, but nobody seems to move, so I stay put. I don't want to be the girl who rushes out of the office too early. I need to look hard working. By 6 o'clock, I've disposed of all the mail, read the company handbook almost cover to cover, and done a full round of the office offering tea and my photocopying services. I'm bored. Might as well head home. I look for George, thinking I ought to check with him, but he's nowhere to be found. So I wrap myself in my coat and head for the door. As I reach for the handle the door bursts open, and George quite literally walks into me. For a moment our bodies are pressed against each other, and despite myself I feel my breath catch. I almost wobble over on my stupid new shoes, and he grabs my shoulders to steady me, gripping me tight with strong hands.

  "Sorry, Iris, I didn't see you there. Are you alright?"

  I nod, somehow lost for words while he is still touching me. Damn it, I am such an idiot. He releases his grip and steps back, brushing the front of his suit as if I might have contaminated him. He checks his watch.

  "Off home. Do you have a train to catch?" I can't tell if he's angry at me for leaving too early.

  "If that's ok, sorry, I'd finished everything and I couldn't find you.." He waves his hand, dismissing my words. Somehow he makes me feel like a child, and I blush for the umpteenth time that day, cursing myself for being so awkward.

  "Not at all, sorry, I got held up in my meeting. It's raining out, I was going to ask if you wanted a lift to the station. "

  The offer catches me off guard. It's the friendliest thing he's said to me all day. But the thought of enduring even those five minutes alone with him, nervous and tongue-tied, just seems too much.

  "I've got my umbrella. I can walk. Thank you very much, though."

  He shrugs. "If you're sure. See you tomorrow, then."

  "Goodnight."

  I regret turning him down as soon as I step out of the glass doors. It is dark, and the rain is lashing down, with a fierce wind chasing it under my umbrella and right into my face. Good old London weather, always reliably miserable. I've missed the bus, so I totter towards the station, cursing the inevitable blisters on my heels. All I want to do is get home and curl up with my book. Finally I reach the station and push my way down the stairs with the mass of my fellow commuters. We reach the concourse, check the departures board, and let out a collective groan. Train cancelled. Leaves on the line, perhaps, or the wrong kind of rain? The next one won't leave until ten to nine. Damn. I do the calculations in my head, and realize that the bus will take so long it won't be worth it. Guess I'm stuck waiting. Brilliant. Resigned to a miserable, damp wait in the chilly station, I find a spot on one of the uncomfortable plastic benches. At least, I think to myself, I have my book.

  About half an hour has passed, and I am engrossed in a fresh chapter, when I hear my name. At first I ignore it, figuring they're calling to someone else. I don't want to look like an idiot. I've had enough of that today. But then the male voice calls again.

  "Iris? Is that you?"

  I lower my book, and Evan is right in front of me, towering over me in his long trench coat. His hair has curled slightly around the temples in the wet weather, and it gives him a boyish look. I am struck again by how handsome he is.

  "I thought it was. Were you waiting for the Gillingham service?"

  "That was the idea. Didn't realize it would be quite this long, however."

  He gives one of his dashing smiles. "You can always rely on the railway to let you down." He glances at the book in my lap. "I've had that on my bookshelf for about three weeks now, keep meaning to get round to it. That's the problem with being the boss. People are always wanting you to do things. Really cuts in to your reading time." We both laugh.

  "Well," I offer, "if you do have a spare hour or two, it's worth it."

  "If you think so, Iris, I shall put it to the top of my to-do list. Listen, I was going to head back to the office and order a company car. You should come with me, no sense hanging around here for hours."

  "Oh, that's kind, but I'll be fine, honestly..."

  "No, I won't hear of it. No use being head of the company if you can't help your staff out from time to time. Come on, we'll run back to the office and I'll order a taxi." He holds out his hand to help me up . I feel a little shiver of excitement. I really shouldn't be doing this, I know...but he offered. And I've already turned down one ride today, and look where that got me. Anyway, if the head of the company wants to pay me some attention, is that such a bad thing? I'm a big girl. I can handle myself.

  "Well, if you're sure."

  Evan pulls out his cell phone as we hurry along the pavement.

  "They won't be able to get here until eight," he says as he hangs up, "guess they're busy in this weather. We can wait in my office. A client sent me a rather nice bottle of red wine this morning, if you'd like to help me sample it?"

  "Sounds lovely."

  We ride up in the lift in silence. Evan is tapping away on his blackberry, giving me a chance to study him. There is something intensely sexy about the way he holds himself, a straight back and strong, square shoulders. There is a sensuous curve to his lips, which always seem to have a slight smile, as if he knows something nobody else does. The secret of success, perhaps. The air in the small space fills with his scent, and it stirs something deep within me. I am hungry, I realize, hungry for his touch. It has been months since I have been held by a man, and after a lonely, heartbroken summer, I am craving some body heat. I realize simultaneously that I am biting my lip, and that he is watching me do it. Damn. There is a distinct twinkle in his eye, and we hold each others gaze for a moment. Then a ping tells us we've reached the right floor. Breat
hing a little harder, I follow him out of the lift and down the corridor to his office. Into the lion's den.

  "Grab a seat, I'll track down some glasses," he says, rummaging in a large cabinet. Is he feeling this tension between us, or is it all in my head? It's hard to tell. Flirting comes naturally to him, that much is clear. And he's old enough to be my father, just about. He opens the wine with a professional flair, and pours a generous few inches into a glass. As he hands it to me, his fingers just brush my wrist, and my skin blazes with heat. There's just something about this guy. I swirl the rich liquid in the glass, trying to look like I know what I'm doing, and inhale its heady aroma.

  "A rather good vintage, I'm sure you'll agree." Evan takes a sip. "Much like myself." Wow, did he just wink? Nobody else could get away with that cheesy line, but he delivers it with his tongue just far enough in his cheek.

  "I suppose you are quite well preserved, for your age." I'm not sure where this confidence is coming from, but I feel naughty enough to tease him. He pretends to look wounded.

  "That's quite enough, young lady. I am still your boss, you know. Let's toast." He comes round to the front of the desk and perches in front of me, so our legs are nearly touching. Ok, this is definitely crossing the line, but somehow I don't seem to mind. He raises his glass.

  "To the future. And a happy working relationship." Well, our relationship seems to be working pretty happily so far...for the second time that day, I clink glasses. The wine really is good, and since I've only had a salad all day, I can feel it rushing straight to my head. Half way through the glass and I already have a warm buzz flowing through my body. Although maybe that isn't just the wine.

  We chat for a while, mostly him asking questions about my life, my degree, my ambitions. Despite being a lowly little intern, he makes me feel important. Like I might be going somewhere. After a day of George's cold shoulder it's a good feeling. Suddenly we're interrupted by my phone bleeping, letting me know I have a text. I fish it out of my handbag. Predictably, it's just my mother, wondering where I am. She went to meet my train, and I instantly feel bad; I should have called.