Boss Unyielding: A Secret Baby Office Romance (The Boss Series Book 1) Page 4

  She wasn’t just some beautiful woman. He had beautiful women all the time, any time he wanted. It came with the territory. Women loved the ass-holes, especially ass-holes with more money than they knew what to do with. Was he an ass-hole with a fuck-ton of money? Guilty.

  But Farren possessed the intelligence of no woman, or man for that matter, that Rogan had ever seen. She challenged him, and not just with the expert level she could handle the projects he had thrown her way to test her skills. The biggest challenge was keeping his hands off her when she licked her supple lips when he caught her stealing glances at his body when she thought he wasn’t looking.

  It was a testament of his resolve every time he watched her sweet, round ass swaying side to side as she left his office, or when she pointed out an oversight in work he had checked. It infuriated him and turned him on so painfully, he’d have to send her out to hide the stiff bulge growing in his pants.

  He would need a cold shower and a stiff drink to calm the blood that was currently raging to all the wrong parts of his body as he left the building that night, vowing to get a grip on the urges that his young, new assistant was arousing in him.

  It couldn’t fucking happen.

  ***

  Three more months had gone by since the near-moment she’d had with Mr. Rayner that night, and he hadn’t slipped up where Farren was concerned since. A part of her felt relieved that he kept a professional relationship between them after that, especially when his various, strikingly beautiful conquests would make their appearances from time to time.

  He hadn’t tried to flaunt them in her face, but he didn’t go out of his way to hide them, either. It was strictly business between the two of them, which made it much easier for her to work for him, overall.

  And working for Rogan Rayner had proven to be more than she could have ever asked. Especially when he had come to her just the week prior with an enticing proposition she couldn’t refuse.

  “Starting next week, you’ll be helping me with a project I’m working on for a company in Italy. Plan for at least four days of travel next week, and you’ll have Friday off.” He had said, speaking as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

  “Wait, do you mean that I’m traveling with you next week to Italy? As in, the country in Europe, across the ocean?” she asked, trying not to sound too naïve. Maybe he was used to traveling the world, but she had never left the country before. She’d gotten her passport when she had been considering a semester abroad during college, but ended up not going, so this would be her first opportunity.

  “That’s the one,” he had said, and she had watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her.

  Now, here she was sitting with Gramma in the living room of their apartment with her bags all packed and ready to go, in the cool, dark hours before dawn. In just a few hours, she would be on a private plane with Mr. Rayner on their way to Rome, Italy. She couldn’t decide what she felt more, excited or nervous.

  When she had applied for a job at Rayner Technologies, she never expected international travel to be a part of the gig, and definitely not so soon. She had a feeling that Rogan Rayner was more widely known and respected than she even realized. He had certainly made an impression on her and even with this hot and cold temper, she couldn’t help but to be in awe of him. With his good looks, business acumen, and his brilliant mind, he was a walking, talking, lethal combination.

  Farren had decided from watching Rayner these past few months that there were two responses he could frequently elicit: completely beguiled, or resentfully jealous. Farren, of course, found herself in the beguilement category, and she knew how dangerous this was. There weren’t too many people in the world she truly respected, so when she did, it was easy for her heart to get involved. That was the last thing she needed with Rogan Rayner.

  “Do you have everything you need?” Gramma asked, handing Farren a cup of coffee as they sat down at the kitchen table together.

  “I think so. Are you sure you’re going to be okay here while I’m gone?”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about your Gramma. It’s not like I haven’t been alone before.” She smiled at Farren and patted her hand for reassurance.

  “I asked Shea to stop by and check on you every couple of days or so until I get back. I made sure to stock the fridge, and the emergency numbers are-”

  “Farren, my darling, I’m not an invalid,” Gramma interrupted. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for worrying about me, but go and have the time of your life. Make some time for fun while you’re there. Don’t just work the whole time.”

  Gramma winked at her and gave her hand another squeeze. Then a knock sounded at the door, letting them know that the car service was there to shuttle Farren to the airport to meet her hot boss to take her to one of the most beautiful countries in the world.

  SEVEN

  Farren got settled into her seat on the luxurious, private plane as she waited for their departure while Rayner continued his phone conversation, obviously someone business-related by what he was saying. She pulled out one of the magazines from her bag she had brought to help entertain her on the long flight there and started flipping through Cosmo.

  When Rayner glanced up and saw her choice of reading material, his momentary distraction caught her attention and she looked up in time to make eye contact with him before he corrected himself and dove back into the topic he had been in the middle of.

  Farren flipped the magazine closed to look at the cover to see what might have been the source of his momentary lapse. It could’ve been Is Your Face Aging Too Fast, but she guessed it was more likely Fifty Sex Tips To Blow His Mind Tonight that was the culprit.

  She looked back up at him, and her mind was pulled back to that night weeks ago when he had brushed her face with such tenderness and came mere inches away from kissing her. She had tried so hard to block that memory out of her mind, but it wasn’t easy when she had an undeniable attraction she did well to keep under wraps from anyone, much less him. When she saw him with other women, her mouth would water at the way his hands would touch them, in that manner just the other side of innocent that gave her the smallest glimpse of what he could do behind closed doors.

  She had to get her mind off this if she was ever going to make it through this trip. She stashed Cosmo back into her bag, since it wasn’t doing her any favors at the moment, and brought out her e-reader instead. It would probably put her to sleep faster than getting her caught up on the latest Urban Fantasy book she was reading, but that would be okay, too, since she had gotten very little sleep the night before.

  When Rayner’s call ended, it wasn’t a few seconds before his phone rang again. When he answered it, he had a brusque tone that had Farren recoiling in her seat. This one was definitely not business-related.

  “Yes? … Audra, this is not a good time… I’m going to be away on business and will not be back until later in the week. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of the limitations of our arrangement, and if you don’t want an abrupt end to that arrangement, do not bother me again until I return. I’ll call you if and when I am ready to do so.” He hung up and pressed the button to power his phone off.

  Yikes, Farren thought. The Insensitive Ass-hole was back, and she would seriously hate being on the receiving end of… that.

  How could anyone have such a polarized temperament, she wondered. She had seen him with people like Dallas Evans at the office, or competitors from other agencies, for example, where he could be utterly ruthless and outright intimidating.

  Then there were the glimpses of a softer side that she secretly yearned to explore. How could she have feelings like this? If she knew what was good for her, she would forget about it all together and just see him for what he was - her boss, and off limits, end of story.

  (But when has that ever been the end of the story?)

  The flight attendant walked into the cabin from the cockpit and let them know they’d been cleared for t
ake-off, so once they had their electronics temporarily turned off and seatbelts fastened, they would be on their way.

  Farren shut down her e-reader, buckled her seatbelt, and let the rush take over her as the plane accelerated down the runway and lifted off the ground, transporting her to a place and time she would soon discover she’d never forget.

  EIGHT

  “Just a moment!” Farren called with her mouth full of toothpaste.

  She spit in the sink, ran a quick rinse over her toothbrush that she then left sitting on the counter, and rushed to see who was knocking at her hotel room door. She assumed it was Rayner, because, well, who else would it be?

  “Sorry about that, I was just-” she began as she pulled the door open and saw that it was definitely not Mr. Rayner. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”

  A tall, dark, and handsome Italian man stood before her. He wasn’t quite as solidly built as Rayner was, but he came pretty close. He was holding what looked like a garment bag full of clothes.

  “Yes. Ciao Bella, Miss Fields, is it?” The man reached for her hand that was resting at her side and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.

  “Uh, yes, I’m Miss Fields. And… you are?” she asked, unhurriedly pulling her hand away. She was unsure yet if she should be impressed or cautious, and she hoped for the former.

  “I am Bartolo Bianchi. Your employer, Rogan Rayner, has asked me to supply you with formalwear and outfits for the meetings you will attend with him this week,” he explained. A wry smile remained plastered on his lips.

  “Are you a store owner?” she asked, unsure of what else he could be, but also in disbelief that a man as professional and expensive looking as himself would be hand delivering a handful of clothes to a prominent businessman’s assistant.

  “No no, Bellissima. I am a designer,” was his response.

  She was willing to bet he was a good one if his own attire was any indication. Clothes may not have made the man, but they could sure make a man look hot.

  She stepped aside and held the door open, gesturing for him to come in.

  As he walked into the spacious, luxurious, grand hotel room, which she could hardly believe Rayner had reserved just for her, he held up the garment bag that had previously been draped over his left arm and hung it on a hook that protruded from the back of the door that led to the bedroom. He unzipped the bag and peeled it off the clothes that hung inside.

  “So, how do you know Mr. Rayner?” Farren asked, following him as he opened the door to the bedroom and made his way to the large closet, from which he rolled out a clothing rack. He certainly seemed like a take-charge kind of guy, Farren thought.

  “Rogan and I, we go way back. He and I met through a mutual acquaintance while he was here on business several years ago. He always has me dressing his women for him when he is in town,” he said, while moving the clothes from the door peg to the clothing rack and spreading them out on the bar.

  He began pulling garments, one by one, and holding them up to her body. Each time, he nodded his approval, as though he were checking to see if they looked like they’d fit, or maybe if the colors went with her dark hair and creamy skin tone.

  His admission about dressing Rayner’s women, she had to admit, stung a little bit, though she knew it shouldn’t be a surprise. Rayner had enough women on his hook, she didn’t bother keeping up with them anymore. Sure, he was discreet about all of them, and probably had to be if he didn’t want them killing each other, she guessed. But Rayner did have an undeniable appeal.

  “Oh, I’m not one of his women. I’m just his… assistant. Or something like that,” she explained as she tried to hold her arms out to make Bartolo’s process a little easier for him.

  She could see a light come on behind his eyes when he paused and looked up at her.

  “Oh, really? That is... interesting,” was his response.

  Was it? She wondered.

  He went back to eyeing the outfits he continued to switch out and hold up against her body, pulling her long strands of hair across the front of them from time to time.

  “Yes, these should all work beautifully. You are a very beautiful woman, Bellissima,” he said after he hung the last article of clothing back on the rack and turned to face her. He took her hand in his again, but this time, instead of bringing it to his lips for a kiss, he held it between his own.

  Farren felt the heat tinting her cheeks at the flattering comment and the intimate gesture. It was especially complimentary coming from Bartolo, who she thought was insanely hot. Almost as hot as Rayner.

  “Thank you,” she said, unsure of what else to say.

  “Please say you will indulge me in a dinner before you leave. I would very much like to show a beautiful woman around my beautiful city.”

  Wow, she thought. He was asking to take her out? She could only imagine what that would entail, and she couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted to go.

  “I don’t know, Mr. Bianchi. I’m not sure Mr. Rayner would approve. I’m supposed to be here for work,” she explained.

  “Surely Rogan can spare you for one night. Please do not break my heart, Bellissima. Tell me you’ll join me for wine and a meal before you leave.”

  He was persistent, she’d give him that.

  “I’ll have to ask Mr. Rayner first to make sure he doesn’t need me to work on anything, or at least which night would work best,” she insisted.

  “Very well. I will leave you with my card. I hope to receive your call very soon.”

  At that, he brought her hand back up for a kiss, and she walked him to the door. Once he left, she went to sit on the large, Italian Leather sofa sitting in the middle of the spacious living room and replayed that whole scene in her mind.

  Who gets asked out by a hot, Italian designer on her first day in Italy, without even leaving her hotel room? A good designer, at that, judging from the collection he had just stocked her wardrobe with.

  She looked around, wondering if this was real, or if she was on some crazy, hidden camera, reality show. She was pretty sure Ashton Kutcher had retired from his notorious gig, but she half expected someone to jump out from behind the curtains telling her she’d been pranked.

  When her hotel room phone rang, it startled her back into the present reality. She shot up, went to the table it sat on, and answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Fields, we’ll be leaving in an hour for our meeting this evening. I trust you’ll be ready?”

  Rogan’s deep, familiar voice came through the receiver, and it had her breath catching in her throat.

  “Yes sir. I, um… I had a visit from Bartolo Bianchi. Is there anything in particular you need me to wear tonight?”

  “Dress to impress. It’s not a formal event, but you’ll need to make a good first impression,” he instructed.

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll be ready.”

  She hung up the phone and walked back into the bedroom to the rack of clothes. Browsing through the outfits, she decided on a pantsuit with some understated but classy embellishments. She thought it looked professional and would help her get the “take me seriously” message across. She figured no one would pay her any mind anyway, honestly, but the last thing she wanted was to be underestimated as being a beauty without a brain.

  This would be perfect.

  When she pulled that particular outfit from the rack, she saw a small, velvet bag attached to the hanger that she hadn’t noticed before. She opened it to find hand-picked accessories that, upon inspection, she realized complemented the outfit perfectly.

  Damn, she thought. Bartolo was definitely worth his salt, as Gramma would say. This guy was legit, and she made a mental note to Google him later when she had the chance. She didn’t even want to think about how much all these clothes and accessories must have cost Rayner, though it was probably a drop in the ocean for him.

  By the end of the hour, she was ready to go, so she grabbed her room key and made her
way to Rayner’s room across and down the hall on the same floor.

  She gave a tentative knock, unsure of why her nerves suddenly pooled in heavy knots in her stomach. She could hear the sound of metal clanking when he unlocked the door and pulled it open. She was immediately struck by the soft, masculine scent of his cologne, as if the smell itself were fingers that reached out and stroked her senses, beckoned to her as she inhaled him from where she stood. And for a fraction of a second, she thought she saw Rayner’s eyes look her body up and down, so subtle and quick that she wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her.

  “Come in. I’m almost ready,” he said in his deep, brusque voice as he turned and strode back into the room.

  She followed, unable to keep from glancing at the way his black suit-pants hung on his thick, muscular glutes. Her mouth watered, and she felt the need to scold herself for her involuntary, secret thoughts.

  “Will there be food at this meeting tonight? I’m kind of starving,” she said, trying to distract herself with some casual conversation.

  “It’s Italy. There’s always food,” he quipped, looking up at her with a humorous smile that crinkled the outer corners of his eyes.

  It was her favorite smile, and usually meant he was in a good mood. Not just a good mood, but his best mood. That was a good sign, she thought, since she always felt a little guilty when his Insensitive Ass-hole persona made an appearance while she was around. Not that she didn’t think it was usually justified, at least in most cases, but she could sympathize with being on the receiving end of it. She knew how humiliating it could be.

  “Good, because if I go too much longer, I think my stomach might start eating itself.”

  “Then you’d better hold off on the wine. The last thing I need is my hired help making a fool of herself, and me, by getting drunk before the first course.”

  He gave her a stern look, but she could still see the mirth that resided behind his deep, blue eyes.