The Heir & I: Taming The Billionaire (2 page)

As much as I sometimes hated to admit it, I realized that my current position just might be the perfect fit for m
y strong, no nonsense persona. I kind of enjoyed my unique role as the person that keeps Oliver Clark in line—most of the time, anyway. It keeps my instincts sharp and my mind alert, thus always providing for an interesting work day; sometimes infuriating and frequently exhausting, but interesting all the same.

And being a professional thorn in the side of Oliver Clark doe
s have its upside, I thought, as my office phone let loose with yet another robust ring. It never fails to make the day interesting, not to mention something of a challenge.

Perhaps, though, this was the very position I’d been working and preparing for all these years; this is the job that would prove my worth in the professional world, building my strength and character, keeping my mind sharp and my energy high, preparing me for even more major professional and personal challenges in the future.

I
cringed as the phone rang yet again, no doubt presenting me with another stellar opportunity to excuse the rampant tardiness and outright absence of Oliver Clark.

***

Oliver

I always make it a point
to start every business day at 9 a.m… well, that was when I usually woke up anyway; only this morning, I realized as I opened my bleary eyes and took a brief gander at my bedside clock, I had missed my daily objective by about 45 minutes.

I’m su
re it must be 9 a.m. somewhere, I reasoned, shutting my eyes tight.

Shifting in the smooth ivory silk sheets of my elegant four poster bed, I caught a waft of perfume that finally stirred me awake; again opening my eyes wide, I beheld the visio
n of a tall, slender blonde who, in my present state of blissful respite, seemed angelic in demeanor.

Of course, she was any
thing but in my bed last night. I grinned as she reached over to plant a sleepy kiss of good morning on my planed, bronzed cheek. Oh well, if I am going to be late this morning, once again incurring the wrath of my ever conscientious personal assistant, then Brandy made the experience well worth it. Or is it Candy? It was so blasted loud in that bar, I couldn’t rightly hear her.

My vague contemplation was suddenly disrupted by the sudden, very jarring realization that I had a meeting scheduled in 15 minutes; a meeting that just happened to involve a very important client at Clark Industries, as well as my father and several of our most esteemed co-workers.

“Blast it!” I said out loud, jum
ping from my bed as I rushed for my clothes closet. She’s going to kill me—and not slowly, mind you. She’ll filet me, flame broil me, and post my head above the office copying machine.

If I feared the wrath of my venerable father, esteemed executive Harry Clark, then I stood in absolute terror of the 5’5” demon that sharpened my pencils and poured my coffee each morning; and on this particular day, I suspected that she just might spike it.

I realized that I could never live without my assistant Lily Ashton; yet if I arrived late for just one more business meeting, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t live through the day.

Now don’t get me wrong, Lily is a wonderful woman—kind, lov
ing, and respectful of others. I can’t altogether blame her for coming down hard on me, after all, her job depends on me. If I can’t make good at the company, then both of our jobs are proverbial toast.

Not that this possibility was likely, of course, considering that I was the on
ly son of the company founder. Harry Clark had built his financial empire up from the ground level, investing blood, sweat and tears; and I was carrying on his legacy by imbuing my daily schedule with a steady stream of partying, promiscuity and rampant tardiness.

And today, dear frie
nds, I continue the tradition, I smirked, approaching my wardrobe closet with slow, trudging steps.

Grabbing a sleek grey business suit
from its place in my closet, I threw it over the planes of my tall, sculpted body as I ran a comb through the shoulder length strands of my thick, cinnamon brown hair.

Racing into the
bathroom, I splashed some fresh water across my cheeks and chin; widening my eyes in the mirror before me to inspect the results.

Not bad for someone who’s working on, oh, ab
out three hours worth of sleep. I winked at myself, turning with a flourish in the direction of the front door. Since I won’t be driving in rush hour traffic, I’ll probably make it to the office just in time—yeah, that’s right, I planned it this way. Lily is going to be so proud…

No sh
e won’t be
, I reminded myself. She was going to kill me. And it was bound to be a slow, painful death.

Rushing from the bathroom with frenzied steps, I waved a quick goodbye to my drowsy date; just now starting to rouse in my sheets as I
headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?” she murmured, blinking at me through a messy sheen of smeared mascara and a misplaced layer of bleach blonde hair.

“It’s off to work I go, Brandy
,” I flashed her a full-toothed smile as I made a mad dash for the door. “I’ll call you later.”

I just ba
rely heard the words, “It’s MANDY!” as I closed the front door behind me.

Ooops.

Jumping in the driver’s seat of the sleek ebo
ny Jaguar that awaited me in the driveway, I turned the key in the ignition and ripped backward into the street that fronted my exclusive three-story townhouse; beginning the seemingly interminable five mile trek that would take me to my downtown office.

As per usual, I managed to hit every red light and meet every pedestrian crossing en route to my destination; also managing to make half the trip behind a particularly slow moving postal truck that seemed to have an inordinate number of stops.

Knowingly breaking the speed limit several times en route to my destination, I finally arrived at the 10-story, crystal planed building that housed Clark Industries; jumping from my car and hightailing it to the front double doors in a single smooth stride.

My feet hit the ground in my office lobby moments later; yet just before I reached the brass handled door that accessed my personal office, I took a deep, sustaining breath and slowed my steps; pasting an easy smile on my face as I ambled casually through my office doors.

4…3
, I mused silently, parting my lips to amp up my charming smile to what I hoped would be an irresistible voltage.
2, and….1.

“Oliver!
Get in here!”

On cue my office walls reverberated with the sound of a sharp, shrill voice;
one that belonged to Lily, my personal assistant of two years.

And just how much longer she’ll remain in my employ, I’m downright
afraid to ask. I turned my head to regard the curvaceous brunette who now stood stock still before her desk, hands planted firmly on hips as she returned my friendly smile with a look of pure evil.

Although not a conventional or obvious beauty, Lily possessed an understated loveliness that expressed itself in smooth ivory skin and crystal blue eyes; both of which seemed effused this morning with a burst of angry color.

“Good morning, Lily,” I greeted her, adding as my appreciative gaze raked the length of the knee length, jewel bl
ue day dress that accentuated her generous curves, “You’re looking lovely today.” I accented my words with a charming, full-toothed smile that generally worked on the women that I happened to meet on any given day.

Generally.

“Thanks,” she snapped out, adding with a sideways glance at the grandfather clock that form
ed a far corner of the office. “But would you still classify this hour of the day as morning?”

I chuckled.

“Now I realize
, that I am bit late for this morning’s meeting,” I admitted, adding as I stepped forward to take my hands in hers, “But thanks to the reminder e-mail that you sent me yesterday evening, I haven’t missed it entirely. As always, Lily, thank you.”

Holding
her gaze, I brought Lily’s hand to my lips for a light kiss.

“You know I never could make it without you around here,” I reminded her, nodding in my own affir
mation of my own sincere words. “You’re one of the brightest, most talented ladies I’ve ever met and you run this office so smoothly, without a hitch, not so easy to do, I realize, with me as your boss. And I also must say it.” With this I leaned across the desk, narrowing my eyes as I said in a softer, more intimate tone, “I never mind the sight of you first thing in the morning, especially when you’re telling me what to do. You know bloody well that, as always, I’m at your command.”

I grinned as Lily broke our gaze, her cheeks flushing with a becoming blush as she took her hands from mine; raising to run them in a soothing motion through her smart brunette bob.

“Just get on in there,” she ordered me, her tone softening as she turned for her desk.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I saluted her with a smile, wondering as I turned away just what kind of a man could face up to the challenge of courting Ms. Lily; although, I figured, the attempt itself would be well worth the effort.

***

Lily

B
last Oliver Clark! Blast him! He is the most arrogant, annoying, and out and out gorgeous man I’ve ever met!

Ooops.
Did I just sat that out loud? Well, there’s really no use in denying the obvious. All dressed up in a grey silk suit, one that accented his tall, muscular frame to absolute perfection, Oliver shone in his masculine beauty. And with his bronzed skin, wide dark eyes and sculpted face, the dude probably would shine in a brown paper bag. He really should have just abandoned the whole executive career plan and become a friggin’ super model instead; walking the runways with rhythmic hips and pouting profusely for the likes of Abercrombie and Calvin or whatever those high fashion types call themselves… I’m too darned busy keeping this office afloat to catch up on my fashion and pop culture references!

And I must admit that, in addition to his almost ridiculous degree of sleek masculine beauty, Oliver was quit
e the charmer as well; a full fifteen minutes after watching him disappear into his office, I still felt the heat of his stare, the feel of his full, warm lips on my hands, the lingering effect of his citrus-tinged scent… I still heard that smooth, deep voice echoing in my ear, singing my praises endlessly as he flattered and fawned over me. Sometimes I wondered if he was simply trying to flirt his way out of a full day’s work, or to quell my frequent and persistent irritation with a hefty dose of good ol’ fashioned charm. Furthermore, the feelings that he sometimes ignited within me were anything but old fashioned; often, Oliver stole into my dreams and daytime fantasies—filling my mind with provocative, deliciously forbidden images of him kissing me, holding me, whispering in my ear; saying and doing things that thrilled and excited me.