Between Her Bosses-The Complete Series: Part One Part Two & Part Three Box Set: (An Interracial BWWM Billionaire Romance Menage)

  Contents

  Copyright Page

  The Interview

  Licking Wounds

  Pretty Woman

  DD Batteries

  Office Panties

  Indulgence

  Between Her Bosses

  The Perfect Man

  Sneaking Around

  Split Decision

  Coin Toss

  Fractured

  Between Her Bosses Copyright

  Fallout

  Impulsive

  Girl's Night

  Mistakes

  Obsession

  Epilogue

  A Note From Sadie Black

  About the Author

  Between Her Bosses

  Book 1: Indulgence

  A Hot BWWM Billionaire Romance Menage

  First edition. February 20, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Sadie Black.

  Written by Sadie Black.

  The right of Sadie Black to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  This book was published by Sadie Black. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This work is property of Sadie Black, please do not reproduce illegally.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Thank you for supporting the hard work of indie authors.

  Please note that this is a work of adult fiction and contains graphic descriptions of sexual activity, graphic language, and violence. It is intended for mature readers aged 18 over only. All characters depicted as engaging in sexual activity in this work of fiction are consenting adults, eighteen years of age or older. Blood relatives never engage in sexual activity of any kind.

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  Chapter One: The Interview

  Try not to run. Don’t run! Instead, I scurry as fast as I can manage, without running. I made it! Just. I can’t believe I nearly missed this perfect job opportunity because of a broken down bus.

  The waiting room, or the lounge as the secretary at the front desk called it, is an artfully twisted mix of steel and glass. Whoever designed the space didn’t exactly have a flair for making people feel welcome with all the sharp edges and muted gray decor. Maybe that was the point, though. One chair is left, I smooth down my dress and hope I don’t look like a hot mess. The carpet feels like whip cream under my feet as I take the seat next to a striking blond man in a gray wool suit. My nerves float away when he flashes his adorable dimples at me, I know that smile. Why was I worried about how I look? I know that my cinnamon skin is smooth like honey and I have good hair, all loose curls framing my face.

  Am I under dressed? The 8 guys and 3 other women look like they either have the money to buy fancy clothes or the ones they borrowed just look a hell of a lot more chic than mine. My navy knee-length pencil skirt and white blouse that I thought looked so sleek at home is drab compared to the room full of suits and blazers, even on the women.

  Dimples is looking me over. Shuffling my paperwork, I try to keep my eyes on my resume, but they keep being pulled to the side by his magnetic sex appeal.

  “I’m Chuck.” He does have a beautiful smile too, his pearly white teeth are surrounded by fleshy and kissable lips. But it’s the dimples in each of his cheeks that get me. Did I mention his eyes? Because his are stunning. A deep blue in the center, spreading out to a lighter blue on the edges. Like a drop of ink in a cup of water. I can’t look away.

  “Kadeesha,” I smile back hoping I have a similar effect on him.

  “Are you ready for this?”

  “The interview? I hope so.” My resume is solid and my references all love me, for a ground floor data job, I’m not sure what else I could do to be ready.

  “I heard the head of this company works in the building.”

  “Oh yeah? You don’t see that much, do you? If I had that kind of money I’d outsource.” I forget that there’s anyone else in the room, the way he looks at me makes me feel like it’s just us in our own little world.

  “Yeah, he’s supposed to be a real ball-buster, or ovary-buster I guess.” His laughter is so rich and full, it sounds like a song.

  “That’s how you get to the top, right?”

  “I read on the internet that he’s also a temperamental brat, really moody and hard to work with.”

  “Oh yeah? I don’t know anything about that,” I admit, “I haven’t read up on him.”

  “Well, it’s better that you didn’t,” his eyes glint, “you might not have shown up.”

  “Nah, I’d be here. Most rich guys are dicks, right?” I’m getting too loud, just about everyone looks up from their phones at me. Reel it in, Kadeesha. “Still beats working my ass off at McDonald’s or retail.”

  “There are other options between those two extremes.”

  “Maybe for you, but a job like this doesn’t come along for everyone. Right now, those feel like my job options.” It’s the truth, I went to school and did the stupidest thing anyone going to college can do. I followed my heart. My stupid heart led me to a sociology degree with a minor in French. Real practical. “Anyway, I don’t know about you, but if I can get a steady paycheck and some medical benefits, I’m happy.”

  I’m trying so hard to keep my eyes on his, but they keep sliding all over his body like a stick of butter on a griddle, and he’s just a smokin’ hot. I know I shouldn’t, but I take a little peek at the bulge of his groin when he looks at the clock on the wall. I’m not a total perv, just curious.

  Go for it. What do I have to lose? “You think you’d want to head out for a coffee after this? You know, either to celebrate or lick our wounds.”

  His smile looks different, it’s unnerving. Chuck walks to the center of the room, what the hell is he doing? Is he cracked?

  He clears his throat, “can I have your attention, please?” I can literally hear the second hand ticking on the clock, all eyes are on him. Is he crazy?

  “Thank you, everyone for showing your interest in this position. While we are pleased with this turnout, unfortunately, we are only hiring 3 people for the data entry positions.”

  Wait, what?

  “For those of you who don’t receive a job offer, please know that your interview results will be kept on file for the next six months and you may be called in if something else comes up. Without any further pretense,” he smirks at me, “let’s get this started. You and you,” he points right at me, “please step in my office.”

  I slink into the office, too confused and embarrassed to even enjoy the amazing view out the massive mirrored windows. Why do I always step in it like this? Chuck closes the door and takes a seat behind his impressive desk, or the smooth metal curve he calls a desk.

  “Alright then, tell me why you think you’re the right candidate for the job.”

  Chapter Two: Licking Wounds

  “Well, I fucked that one up.”

  Charday
chokes on her wine. “That’s so classic you,” she giggles. Her light caramel cheeks are flushed, making her look like she’s wearing the perfect shade of blush.

  “It’s not funny! This was my only chance to get a job that matters.”

  “And you didn’t do your homework and tried to pick up your boss,” she snorts.

  “I didn’t know! Who does that? What kind of mind fuck is that?” I know I’m whining, but I’ll be damned if I plan to stop any time soon.

  “Well, seriously though, it’s a pretty clever way of working out who’s there and for what reasons. Nozama is a multi-billion dollar company, can you blame them for being unconventional about how they weed out the new hires?”

  Her being right doesn’t take the sting out of it. The barrage of questions I was completely unprepared for pop back into my head. What were Nozama’s last quarter results? Tell me the company’s motto. Where do you see yourself in five years? My answer to that last one makes my whole body cringe. I doubt “uh, I guess a main secretary or something,” was the beauty pageant answer he expected.

  I know Charday’s right, I didn’t prepare. I just practiced some online typing tests and fantasized about spending fat paychecks instead of studying up on the company.

  “Lesson learned, I guess.” I try not to sound as glum as I feel, but there’s no hiding how awful my day was. My roommate must finally feel like she’s beaten me down enough because she puts down her wine and gives me a quick hug.

  “Don’t sweat it, Kadeesha. This is gonna be another one of your funny stories, you just need some time to pass to take the edge off it. In the meantime, let’s drown them sorrows,” she hops off the couch and grabs another bottle of $7 white wine from the fridge.

  She’s right, of course, when isn’t she? It’s aggravating that she can be such a mother hen, but when my impulsiveness has me licking my wounds over a bottle of wine, I couldn’t dream of a better friend to help me through.

  Charday pours the wine into my glass, filling it back up half way.

  “Keep it coming.”

  She laughs, “ok, just remember that tomorrow when you’re crying over the toilet bowl... Again.”

  “It can’t feel any worse than I do right now. Besides, you don’t want to leave the glass half empty.”

  “Or maybe it’s half full, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  It’s work to pry my eyelids open, the prickly sun rays are needles in my eyes. My head feels like I spent the night sleeping on a blaring concert speaker. Why, why, why do I do this to myself? The pillow I hold on my face blocks most of the sunlight that’s bullying my hangover. The ringing in my ears gets louder. Wait, that’s the phone. Grabbing it, I try not to sound like I just woke up.

  “Hello,” my voice croaks. So much for that plan.

  “Hello, may I please speak with Miss Williams,” a professional, but curt woman asks. Not another collection agent, please! Not now.

  I briefly consider saying that she’s got the wrong number or hanging up. “That’s me.”

  “Excellent,” she chirps making me want to rip off my ear. “Miss Williams this is Yvonne Goldblume from Nozama. I’m happy to report that we are extending you an employment opportunity in the company. Are you still interested?”

  Her words are puzzle pieces that I struggle to put together, surely she’s made a mistake. Or I’m mistaken. One way or another a mistake is being made here.

  “Miss Williams?”

  “Sorry, yes, I’m still here. Uh, I would love to accept the job, yes!” I say louder than I would’ve liked. My brain thumps angrily in my head, like a neighbor telling me to keep down the racket.

  “Excellent, Mr. Lawson has asked that you sign the paperwork and pick up your employee badge this afternoon. Does 2 o’clock work for you?”

  A quick glimpse at my phone tells me it’s already 11:30. I don’t want to be late, but I also don’t want to jinx my good luck by moving the time. “Yeah, I mean, yes, that will work just fine. Thank you.” Despite my dehydrated lips, I smile.

  “Perfect, I will pencil you in for 2 pm.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  The phone goes dead and I bolt. If I’m going to make it on time I don’t have a moment to spare.

  The cab pulls up in front of the same impressive skyscraper that I left hanging my head in failure the day before. Just for a moment, I stand on the sidewalk like a tourist and admire my new workplace. The building’s dark glass and shape make it look like a giant cell phone, reminding me how it got its name as it scrapes the highest edges of the Manhattan skyline.

  Self-doubt whirling through me makes for a long elevator ride. How could I have possibly been offered this job? Heat spreads from my chest to my ears as I recall my painful interview, not even 24 hours before. My journey ends on the 34th floor and take the biggest lungful of air I can muster. I feel like I’m diving into a new world, I don’t know if it’s going to be full of the treasures of Atlantis or a bunch of hungry sharks. There’s only one way to find out and standing in an elevator ain’t it. I take the plunge.

  I can see the receptionist beaming at me from the end of the hall. Her smile is shrink wrapped on her face, without a hint of sincerity to be found.

  “You must be Miss. Williams,” she says warmly, the disconnect between her genuinely kind voice and her frozen Botox face gives me a shiver.

  “I am.”

  “Pleased to meet you, I’m Yvonne Goldblume. I’ve been instructed to have you read and sign these documents before we can proceed. I think you’ll find that there is a standard non-disclosure agreement, emergency contact form and a few other documents for your employee file. Please, if you’ll follow me,” she stands up, carrying a plain manila folder under her perfectly poised arm.

  Like a newly imprinted chick, I follow behind her into a sprawling boardroom, dimly lit with rows of pot lights. The wall of windows wraps around the corner of the building, giving a feeling of floating above the city. Splashes of silver sparkle in the enormous granite table surrounded by at least 50 leather chairs.

  “Where should I sit?”

  “Any place you wish,” that smile, it makes a chill run up my spine. “If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate.” She clip-clops from the room, kicking her red bottom heels up like she wants the world to see them with every step. How much does she get paid? I try to picture a world where I can afford to buy my own pair of Louboutins, but I don’t have a good enough imagination.

  The head of the table is the perfect place to sit, I feel like I’m sitting at the end of an airport runway when I look down the black table. Ok, let’s snap out of it there, CEO. Time to fill out this book of paperwork. A few forms, my ass. I guess I should get used to it, this is my career. Career. It feels so incredible to finally be able to call my job a career.

  I scan the first page. It says my job title is Administrative Assistant Level III. Well, isn’t that fancy? Annual Salary: $120, 000.00. There’s no way. Ok, take a breath, I search the sheet,

  Name: Kadeesha S. Williams

  SSN: 572-64-0315

  Job Title: Administrative Assistant Level III

  Annual Salary: $120, 000.00

  There’s no way. No god damned way. I’m waiting for the numbers to transform, to swirl on the page, into the $25K I was expecting, that I was looking forward to. I jump up, trying not to tremble as I open the door and walk back over to the main desk.

  “Finished already Miss Williams?” I ignore her creepy smile.

  “Uh, sorry, no. I just have a couple of questions. I believe there must be some sort of mistake, I don’t have the right paperwork.” I hand her the file.

  For the first time her expression changes, she looks utterly distressed. “The wrong file? Oh my goodness, let me take care of that immediately.” Shuffling through the paperwork, she raises an eyebrow. “Miss Williams, why do you suspect that this is the wrong file, everything appears to be in order here.”

  I can barely breath
e. I can barely swallow. “Really? Um, even the salary?” Surely she’s made a mistake.

  Her eyes flit over the number with complete disinterest. “Yes, Miss Williams. Everything is in order,” she stresses again, sounding irritated though that smile has reappeared.

  “Well, thank you for clarifying that.” I grab my paperwork and go back into the boardroom. All of a sudden, filling out forms has never been more interesting.

  “And this will be your desk,” Yvonne holds up her hand like a model showcasing the winner’s prize on a game show. It’s beautiful, solid, rich wood with a brand new Nozama computer larger than my television on the top. A headset and cell phone are on the corner. “Of course, as Mr. Lawson’s personal secretary you will need to be available at all times. The cell phone is expected to be on your person day and night, in case an emergency should arise.”