CHAPTER 1
Olivia
Monday
“Mr. Stone will be right with you.”
“Thank you,” I say to the woman who looks too perfect to even be human. She smiles and exits his office.
I have no idea why I’m fifteen minutes into my first day on the job and I’m meeting with the founder, owner, and CEO of Stone Solutions. And solutions are exactly what he provides. He’s never lost a case in his professional life, mostly because most of them never go to trial. Once he gets the suits around the boardroom table it only takes a few minutes of well-placed verbal jabs here and some corporate stock crushing promises there and they’re opening up their checkbooks for his clients.
But that’s not the only thing he’s known to open. He’s a fixture in the gossip mags about town. Just when you think there’s not a higher profile woman he can seduce he does exactly that. Actresses, heiresses, models…he’s been linked to them all. And if there’s truth to what you read in the papers the sweet nothings he whispers in their ears lead to sweet sensations between the sheets shortly thereafter.
Rumor has it there’s not a woman on earth he can’t bring to orgasm. And not just any kind of orgasm. The kind that has you curling your toes and causing your eyes to roll back in your head before a mind-bending reality-changing experience that leaves you addicted and begging for more.
The paparazzi caught two different actresses trying to enter the building of his exclusive apartment downtown last month. They were banging on the entrance demanding to be let in…both around one in the morning. When the cops came they both claimed they just needed to tell him something. I’m guessing that something was how much they couldn’t live without him.
Billionaire. Buff. Beautiful, yet extremely masculine. He was all those things and more.
I sit up straighter in my chair and check my shoulders for lint or heaven forbid dandruff. My skin never did adjust to the big city life and after a small fortune dumped into various shampoos I was still no closer to finding a solution than when I started.
But why did he want to see me? It was probably nothing, but nonetheless I felt the hairs on my arms stand at attention. I was feeling nervous and unconsciously started wiggling my ankle.
His office seemed a bit on the cool side when I walked in, but now it was anything but. It had gone from a cool ocean breeze to a sticky tropical jungle. And in this jungle he was the lion and I was the prey.
I hear the door open and the sound of expensive shoes gliding across marble.
I turn to greet him but he’s already next to me. He extends a hand as if to say “stay seated.”
He effortlessly moves around to behind his desk and sits. I could see that he was tall when he walked in, but he’s only made things worse by sitting in the elevated chair behind that massive wood desk while here I am in front of his desk in this little chair with the deepest seat I’ve ever felt in my life. If this is a tactic that he uses…well, it sure does work.
His eyes are a crystal clear blue like an ocean you can see right through. But it feels like he’s the one looking right through me. His eyebrows slant up which only adds to the deviousness of the look he’s giving me.
He’s sporting something more than a five o’clock shadow. It’s more like a day or two of growth. I guess you can do whatever the hell you want when you own the company.
And did that bit of facial hair work perfectly with his suit. It screamed bad boy or rugged man while his suit yelled polished businessman.
Somehow he was even more attractive in person than he was on the front of the papers.
But despite his look and his suit and the power his office gave, not to mention the view of the city behind him through the massive window, it was his expression that hit the hardest.
Being present is all the buzz these days. How to avoid distractions in our fast paced world. Well, he could have written the book on the subject because he was one hundred percent focused on me. He never took his gaze off me from the minute I turned to look at him.
He lifted a manila folder and flipped through whatever was inside. I couldn’t see the contents and neither did he. He kept the papers just below eye level, preferring to stare at me the whole time.
And then suddenly he tossed the document to his side and I heard a thud as it landed in a metal wastebasket.
“Why did you apply for this position?”
Finally, he broke the silence. Ironically I don’t know if the bass in his voice and the octave the rich notes his words hit have me more relaxed or less.
“I was hoping to use the skills I acquired during my undergraduate studies and—”
“You’re overqualified,” he interjects. Apparently he wasn’t satisfied with my canned response.
But why summon me to the penthouse suit of the building which bears his name to ask me that? He’s surely got better things to do…like make another few billion dollars real quick. He seems to have a knack for doing just that.
I consider trying another practiced response, but know he’s going to shoot it down even quicker than he did the first.
“I need the money,” I say.
He says nothing, as if my answer isn’t satisfactory.
“Even though I was fortunate enough to land excellent internships each summer while I was going to college I didn’t have the time needed to follow-up with those firms in order to start practicing law right away.” That’s surely what he’s wondering. Four summers of serious legal work and I apply here as a paralegal? It makes no sense. I already passed the bar and could have started off practicing right away. “If I would have started practicing right out of the gate I would have likely been put on a contingency and wouldn’t have collected until after the case settled, and if the client or other party was able to pay. I don’t have that kind of time right now.”
He leans back in his king’s chair and puts his arms along the long thick armrests. His gaze intensifies.
I feel my butt getting hotter and shift in my seat. It’s not just my butt though. I feel sweat running from my armpits and my back. How did he get to me so quickly? And with just nine and a half words. And why do I feel like re-enacting the steamy scenes from 9 1/2 weeks right now?
Like that was going to happen anytime soon. He’s got the crème de la crème of Hollywood, the fashion industry, and just about every other industry throwing themselves at him 24/7. He certainly wasn’t going to choose me with options like those.
Maybe he thought I was going to sandbag it. Take a job that was too easy and just coast, or worse yet do nothing at all. Nothing was further from the truth. As a matter of fact the second reason I took this job was to scratch an itch and learn more about this mystery man. I just had no idea it would be happening so soon into my first day.
He leaned forward in that gigantic chair. Even with its size he filled it out nicely. He was a big guy himself. I know guys who are six foot three and six foot four. He was at least a couple inches taller than them, and much bigger too. His shoulders were deceptively broad. I just wonder what else was bigger, and better, than the things that the paparazzi had managed to photograph…and the things they hadn’t.
And speaking of deceptive it would seem I’d feel safe in this fortress of an office he has. I can tell by the window that the walls must be two feet thick…and marble. It’s probably one of the safest places in the entire city, yet I feel like I’m right outside the office walking on a tightrope well over fifty stories in the sky.
I just wonder if I fell, would he catch me? And if he caught me, would I be able to catch him?