His Apprentice (Billionaire Cowboys)

HIS APPRENTICE

A BILLIONAIRE COWBOYS SHORT STORY

By Mia De Rossi

Copyright © 2013 by
Mia De Rossi

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the author

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Avery
Adams drove in the front gates of the mansion feeling more than a little intimidated,
his damp palms clamped on the steering wheel.

Holy
shit.

This
dude was seriously rich. Like sheikh from the Middle East rich. Everywhere he
looked there were gardeners and landscape artists and who knew what the fuck
else bustling around, helping keep the place pristine.

Avery
pulled into the circular driveway, suddenly acutely aware that his little Honda
sedan was definitely
not
a brand new Mercedes or Porsche and that it
wore dents as decorations. Avery thought they gave it character, but he was
sure his new employer wouldn’t think so.

Stepping
out, he crunched across the gravel to the massive front door and pressed the
doorbell. A few moments later, a burly man in a tightly fitting black t-shirt
and black pants answered, his face serious.

When
the man stared at him without saying anything, Avery realized he was waiting
for
him
to speak first. “Um, hello. My name is Avery Adams. I’m here as
an apprentice to Mr. Hamilton. From Vanderbilt University?” He mentally cursed
himself for being so easily freaked. He had a right to be here—Avery, among all
the other students, had been chosen by his business professor to work as Mr. Hamilton’s
apprentice. Five hundred people had applied. Daniel Hamilton had a hard-won
reputation as one of the leading business people in the western world.

Smoothing
down the front of his gray pants, Avery held out a hand for the man to shake.

But
the man merely nodded curtly and turned to walk away. Avery supposed he was
meant to follow, so he did.

“Mr.
Hamilton is a very busy man,” the man in black said as he walked rapidly down a
long hallway. “You’re here ten minutes early, which is good. Fifteen is even
better. Today you’ll hang around Mr. Hamilton and observe his daily routine.
You are not to speak until you are spoken to. Do you understand?”

Wow.
Yeah, he understood. Understood that Mr. Hamilton sounded like a big asshole. Sure,
the man was young—still in his twenties—and had made his first billion using
nothing but his business savvy and huge brain. But did that mean he could treat
people how he wanted?

Well,
I guess he can,
Avery thought wryly as the burly man opened
the door to a big study. Obviously, from the size of Mr. Hamilton’s mansion and
the fleet of shiny cars outside, it was working very well for him.

The
study was empty, or so Avery thought. But when the man in black cleared his
throat, the chair facing the large bank of windows on the back wall swiveled
around and Avery came face to face with Mr. Hamilton.

Avery’s
first thought was,
Ho-
lee
shit.

The
man was absolutely gorgeous. Even from about eight feet away, Avery could see
that his pale blue eyes blazed with a depth and fire to which his media
pictures did not do justice. When Daniel Hamilton stood, Avery noted that he
was much taller than he appeared in his photographs—much taller than Avery, who
was six feet tall himself. Like Avery, Mr. Hamilton was broad-shouldered, but
where Avery was pale from too many days spent studying in the library, Mr.
Hamilton was tan, like he spent a lot of time on the beach playing volleyball.
Avery commanded his brain not to think about Daniel Hamilton in short shorts
playing volleyball, but his brain resolutely disobeyed.

Right
now the billionaire was clad in dark-washed jeans and a plaid shirt, complete
with cowboy hat and boots. The first two buttons on his shirt were open,
exposing a lovely patch of silky smooth chest.

Daniel
Hamilton came around his gigantic desk, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He
cocked his head, and a small smirk tugged one corner of his mouth up.

“So
you’re Avery Adams,” he said, looking him up and down in a way that made
Avery’s cock twitch in spite of himself.

Great.
All he needed was to pitch a tent here in front of Daniel Hamilton. That’d make
a really swell story—no pun intended—for his prof back at Vanderbilt. Mr. Hamilton
waved off the man in black, who receded carefully into the shadows, closing the
study door behind him.

 “Um,
yes, sir,” Avery replied, smoothing back his brown hair self-consciously, wondering
what the dude’s deal was. Why was he looking at him that way?

Daniel
Hamilton stepped closer, and Avery got a whiff of expensive cologne and even
more expensive alcohol. The man was surveying Avery’s face as if it was the
most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “You’re very...” Mr. Hamilton appeared to
search for the right word. Avery could see the moment he had it, and the moment
he pushed it back in favor of another adjective. “...young,” he finished.

Avery’s
brow furrowed. Hadn’t the man been told the apprenticeship was for
undergraduates from Vanderbilt? “I’m twenty-one, Mr. Hamilton,” he said
carefully.

“Call
me Daniel,” the businessman insisted, that smirk still on his face. “Do you
like whiskey?”

Avery’s
head spun. Huh? Had the guy just asked him if he liked whiskey? “I’m—pardon
me?”

But
Mr. Hamilton—Daniel—was already walking away from him to a little bar in the
corner of the office. He poured another highball glass of golden liquid and
turned around. “Here,” he said, giving Avery the new one. “Come sit down and
tell me a bit about yourself.”

Avery
followed, more and more confused by the minute. Did Daniel think he was someone
else? Did he not realize Avery was his lowly apprentice? What the hell was
going on?

When
Daniel gestured to the chair across from him, Avery sat, clutching his glass of
whiskey to him like a baby clutching a security blanket.

Daniel
laughed, throwing his head back, exposing his throat. Avery swallowed at the
deep shadow of stubble there, at the Adam’s apple that bobbed with the motion.
Wow.
The man was beautiful enough to be a model, even if he seemed a little crazy.

“You
look worried,” Daniel said, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “Don’t be.” He
raised his glass. “Have a drink.”

But
Avery only clutched his drink tighter, his fingers trembling. He had to be
clear about what was going on. If Daniel had mistaken him for someone
else—someone important, like a client—he could only imagine what hell there
would be to pay later. “Mr. Hamilton—”

At
the other man’s warning look, he quickly amended it to: “Daniel. Um, I’m—I’m
here to be your apprentice. From Vanderbilt University?”

“I
know that,” Daniel said, still smiling like he was in on a joke that Avery
wasn’t in on. “I’m confusing you, aren’t I?”

Avery
smiled hesitantly. “A little.”

Daniel
drained his glass and set it down, his eyes bright and glassy. “I’m just so
glad to see someone...I can relate to. You know, Avery, when I started Hamilton
Inc. four years ago, I was your age.” He threw his head back and guffawed
again. “I know, I know. I sound like a fucking grandpa. The longer I’ve been running
the business, the older I feel. And people...they all just treat me like I’m this
untouchable, inhuman...” Daniel trailed off his disconnected diatribe and looked
at Avery, taking his cowboy hat off to push a hand through his shorn blonde
hair. “Anyway. It’s nice to see you. To see someone who reminds me of me in a
way. Plus, you’re easy on the eyes.”

There
was a startled silence as Avery stared at Daniel. Wait, what? Had the man just
said he was
easy on the eyes
?

Daniel
laughed and held his hands up. “Yep, I’m gay. I know they tend to leave that
one out of the papers.”

Avery
sat there, not able to think clearly. So, Daniel was gay. And he thought Avery
was...easy on the eyes. Sure, the guy was as scrumptious as any dude on the cover
of GQ. Sure, just the sound of his throaty laugh made Avery’s cock twitch and
moan about wanting to come to attention. But still, this was Daniel Hamilton.
THE Daniel Hamilton. There was no way Avery was going to fuck this up.

Avery
leaned forward to convey some of his thought process to the very delicious but
very drunk Mr. Hamilton, when Daniel also leaned forward, no doubt to tell
Avery something else completely inappropriate and personal. The problem was
Daniel mistook Avery’s leaning forward as a “move.” With a sharp intake of
breath, the man scooted closer and grabbed Avery’s face in his big, warm hands.

When
their lips met, it was like a fire lit between them. Avery’s protests died on
his lips as his mouth automatically fell open, wanting, needing to taste the
delectable Daniel Hamilton.

Daniel,
not the least bit shy, nibbled Avery’s lips with his perfect teeth. His tongue
danced sensuously in and out of Avery’s mouth, teasing it open wider. One of Daniel’s
hands moved down to Avery’s button down shirt and slipped between two buttons,
his fingers caressing Avery’s smooth chest.

Avery
gasped, his cock straining painfully against his pants. Oh god, what the hell.
He was only human. Avery couldn’t help it—the guy was seducing him right here
on his couch and Avery was going to let him.

But
then that pesky inner voice kicked in, scolding him for wasting a perfectly
good opportunity. Avery couldn’t just go along with this. This was the opportunity
of a lifetime, what he’d been working his entire life for. Other people would
kill for it. Avery had to stop it; he had to be the responsible one. Maybe this
was still salvageable if he just spoke up.

So,
over his body’s shrill cries, Avery put his hands on Daniel’s chest and pushed
the man away. He stood up, adjusting his position so his tented pants weren’t
so visible. Panting, wishing to god he didn’t have to do this, he said, “I’m
sorry, Mr. Hamilton, but I think you’re drunk, and I think we’ll both regret
this later.” Like hell he would. He knew he’d never regret sleeping with a man
like Daniel—smart, talented, fucking gorgeous. But he knew Daniel would most
definitely regret it, and that’d be the end of Avery’s career.

Daniel,
his lips swollen, his breathing ragged, stared at Avery with something very
much like hurt on his face. Avery had the strangest desire to take him in his
arms and comfort him. In spite of finding Daniel insanely attractive, in spite
of wanting to do things to him he’d only ever seen in porn, Avery still felt like
he was seeing a side of Daniel Hamilton that hardly anyone got to see.

But
the moment was gone. Daniel sat up straight, his eyes on a mid-point on the
floor. He rubbed a hand across his face and huffed out an embarrassed laugh.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry.” He shook his head slowly,
as if he was just waking up. “My behavior has been inexcusable. I’m truly
sorry, Mr. Adams.”

“Mr.
Adams” now. He was putting distance between them, cleaning up his mess. “It’s
all right—” Avery began but Daniel cut him off smoothly.

“Listen,
why don’t you take the day off? I think I’m going to bail, too. Leave me your
number, will you? I’ll call you later and let you know what time to come in
tomorrow.”

Avery’s
heart sank. He knew, from Daniel’s tone and the way the man refused to look at
him, that he’d made a big mistake. Daniel was humiliated, and he wasn’t going
to call him. He was going to forget about Avery Adams and his sorry existence.
But
it’s not fair!
Avery thought, scribbling down his cell phone number on a
notepad on Daniel’s desk.
It’s not
my
fault. I did the decent thing
by stopping him—he’s drunk and vulnerable!
But Avery knew things didn’t
work out according to what was fair.

“I’ll
talk to you later,” he muttered, but Daniel didn’t reply. Avery left, closing
the door after him.

The
rest of the day passed in an excruciatingly slow grind. Avery
flitted about his hole of an apartment, trying to find things to do. When he
began to clean the grout in his kitchen tile, he knew it was bad. Avery prayed
that he’d still have his apprenticeship when he went back to Daniel’s mansion
in the morning, but he knew the chances of that happening were slim.

He
knew what was likely to happen was that Daniel Hamilton would sober up and
realize that it was too humiliating—not to mention a possible PR or legal disaster—to
have Avery come back. He considered calling Daniel, but restrained himself.
Daniel was the boss, and he had Avery’s number. If he wanted to talk, he’d
call.

At
eight o’clock that night, Avery admitted defeat. The day had been completely
and utterly shitty, and it was time to take a nice, hot bath and start over
tomorrow. And who could say? Maybe Daniel would be a bigger man than Avery expected.
Maybe he’d applaud Avery’s manful handling of a dicey situation. Avery was
nothing if not optimistic... some would say stupidly so.

Sighing,
he climbed into his sauna-like tub. He’d made sure that the apartment he’d
rented had a bathtub. Baths were one of his few regular indulgences, and he
couldn’t imagine not being able to soak himself after a rough day.

Now,
he sank down to his nose and closed his eyes, letting the steam wrap him up in
its cocoon. The heat began to work its magic on his muscles, and he felt the
day’s tensions begin to slip away into the water. Avery began to fall in and
out of a light doze, Daniel Hamilton receding into the far corners of his mind.

The
doorbell sounded.

Avery’s
eyes flew open and he sat up straighter. What time was it? And who the hell was
that? When it sounded again, he grabbed the towel, wrapped it around his waist,
and stepped out of the tub, water streaming onto the floor of the bathtub.

Avery
padded out into the living room, leaving puddles in his wake. The air hitting
his wet body made him shiver, goosebumps popping up all over his limbs. He
glanced at the clock—nine o’ clock. This had better be a damn emergency, or he
was going to be mad. He peeked through the peephole.