Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Can I….” He frowns as he tries to find the words. “Can I stay for dinner?” he asks softly.
I smile through tears, “You can stay forever.”
Merry Christmas
xox
THE BONUS
1
Grace
My name is Grace Porter, and I am the personal assistant to Gabriel Ferrara, CEO of Ferrara Media in New York.
And it’s the perfect job; great pay, beautiful office, everything I ever dreamed of, if not for one small detail.
I am utterly and hopelessly in love with my boss.
Every day it starts the same, at precisely 8:20 a.m. I make my way into his office. By this time, he’s already run on his treadmill, had an infrared sauna and showered, we run through his day while he dresses.
Watching Gabriel put on his suit each morning is the highlight of my day, who am I kidding it’s the highlight of my fucking life.
I pick up my notes and knock softly.
“Come in,” his strong voice calls.
I tentatively open the door to see him standing at his coffee machine, white towel around his waist. Tanned muscles, broad back and dominance for miles, the lethal trifecta. “Morning, Gracie.”
“Good morning, Gabriel,” I reply, my eyes drink him in while he has his back to me, it’s the only time I can stare uninterrupted.
He turns and passes me my cup and saucer, “Your coffee, madam.”
“Thank you.” I tentatively take a sip, warm and delicious, even his coffee is smooth. He goes back to making his coffee while I take a seat at his desk, I open his computer and log into his diary.
My eyes flick over the screen to his sculpted back, damn it.
Why is he so delicious? How could any female work in these conditions and not be completely besotted with him?
And then he opens his mouth…… and I remember why.
“Did you sleep at all last night; you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I mutter as I refocus on his day.
“I didn’t sleep much either, actually, can you remind me later to send flowers.”
I bite the side of my cheek.
Fucker.
Not only do I have to watch him date every beautiful woman in the world, I send them fucking flowers too.
“Of course,” I reply as I act unaffected.
I’m positive that I could win an Academy Award for the acting of casual that I do.
“What have we got today?” he asks as he disappears into his large closet. From my peripheral vision I see the white towel drop as he puts his briefs on.
Focus.
I exhale as the screen jumbles, he’s busy.
Even reading his schedule is exhausting. “Board meeting at nine.”
“Let’s run through that agenda.” He walks out of the closet in black briefs, his suit and shirt on hangers.
“You are talking about the flow on effect from the defamation case against Noble Industries,” I reply.
“Yes, that’s right. Did we get that information?”
“Bryce has sent it to your email, and it’s saved in your Noble Industry file.”
“Thank you.” He pulls on his white shirt and slowly does up the buttons. “And do I have the graph?”
“Aha.” I bite my bottom lip as I try to focus on the screen, something about him standing there in his briefs doing up a white shirt…… it scrambles my brain. Every.
Single.
Morning.
“Okay, so what then,” he asks.
“You have a meeting with Roger at 10:15.” My eyes flick up to him, “Why do you have a meeting with Roger?”
“I’m letting him go.” He pulls up his navy suit pants and zips up.
“What?”
He shrugs, “He’s not performing.”
“You can’t fire Roger; he’s going through a lot right now. His wife left him.”
“Probably wasn’t performing in bed either,” he mutters dryly as he puts his gold cufflinks on. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Now is not the time, can you just give him a warning please?”
“It’s amusing that you think you have a say in this matter.” He pulls his suit coat on. “Next appointment?”
“You have a phone conference with Holly, you are closing on the land for the shopping mall at 1 p.m. today, and she needs to run through a few details.”
“Aha.”
“At eleven you have a walk through the finance department to see the new refurbishment of their office.”
He screws up his face in disgust, “Why?”
“Because you do,” I snap in frustration. “You paid for it, the least you can do is be excited.”
“You’re getting a bit lippy this morning, Grace,” he snaps. “Don’t piss me off before nine.”
He walks back into his wardrobe and the scent of his aftershave wafts through the office.
Fuck it…. why does he spray that when I’m in his office?
It’s morally wrong.
I keep reading through his diary, “You have lunch at 12.30 with…” I frown and my eyes rise to meet his, “Veronica.”
“Aha,” he says casually, “Drink your coffee, so I can collect your cup.”
I sip my coffee as I plot his death.
Is it Veronica Rothchild?
That’s a new name, I don’t know a Veronica other than Veronica Rothchild the super model, and I know that they met two weeks ago at a charity event.