The Boss's New Plaything
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
The Boss’s New Plaything
Layla Valentine
Contents
Layla Valentine
The Boss’s New Plaything
Copyright
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Ana Sparks & Layla Valentine
Triplets For The Billionaire
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Layla Valentine
Jay’s Lucky Baby
Introduction
Copyright
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Layla Valentine
Do Me Doctor
Introduction
Copyright
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks
Fake It For Me
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Layla Valentine
Take Me
Introduction
Want More?
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
The Boss’s New Plaything
Layla Valentine
Copyright 2017 by Layla Valentine
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author. All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One
Aimee
Inhaling a shaking breath, I steel my nerves as I apply my makeup, my reflection scowling back at me from the mirror above the sink. Here I was, straight out of college and knee-deep in debt, and the time had finally come to move to my dream town of Seattle.
When I say dream town, that’s not an exaggeration. Ever since I was a girl growing up in the small town of Colfax, it’s been an aspiration of mine to live the good life in the city.
Sure, I could work as a grocery store clerk or something, but sue me for wanting something more. I worked hard at Washi
ngton State, earning my marketing degree, while my art-major friends partied their way through college. My hard work paid off, it seems, as I’ve just landed a prestigious internship at a multibillion-dollar real estate company. As you might have guessed, it’s in my dream city of Seattle.
The company, SharpeFocus, is notoriously guarded about its internships. I know I’ll be serving under the lead marketing director, but beyond the initial job description, I’m clueless. You don’t ask questions when a job like this is dangled under your nose. You just reach out and snatch it in your claws, as perfectly manicured and painted as they may be.
It might seem like I have everything well in hand, that I’m confident and sure of myself, but the truth is that I feel like a fish out of water. Seattle is about as unlike Colfax as you can imagine, and while my dreams have always been huge, living them out is proving to be a bit more stressful than I expected.
All the same, I must be doing something right to even be considered for the internship. Obviously, getting in on the ground floor isn’t the most glamorous way to begin my career, but I’m more concerned with what awaits me at the end of the tunnel.
But unless I get my ass out of this apartment, the end of the tunnel won’t be coming any time soon.
My expression looks no softer than when I started applying my makeup, so I try a smile. I find myself looking more demented than anything, but maybe that’s my nerves talking. I’ve been told that I’m attractive, and while every girl has days where she feels less than pretty, most days I feel pretty confident in what I see in the mirror.
Pulling my long blond hair back, I allow a strand to frame either side of my face. One more attempt at a smile, and I don’t look half bad this time. I take a moment to internally celebrate the small victory, then, pulling my purse over my shoulder, I grab my keys and slip out of my new apartment.
Considering how lonely I’ve been since moving out here, it occurs to me that it might have been nice to find an apartment that allowed pets. I’ve received my share of calls from family, mostly my father sounding terrified that some criminal from the big city will lay hands upon his only daughter. Unfortunately, the calls do nothing to replace the company of another living being.
Shaking off the thought, I make my way down to the lobby, cursing the steep flight of stairs that I have to ascend and descend every day. I’m not out of shape by any means, but it’s a change of pace—I’m used to descending two steps, off of the porch of my childhood home. My younger brother would have already beat me to the door at this rate, but he’s always been far too energetic.
My gorgeous, red, classic muscle car sits waiting for me in the parking lot, and I can’t help but breathe a sigh of contentment. I approach the driver’s side, unlocking the door and easing comfortably in the seat. The one thing that has remained reliable in my life is my car, the trooper that she is. We fiery-spirited girls have to stick together, after all.
The engine thrums, seemingly in time with my heartbeat as I start the car, smiling a toothy little grin to myself. Coming out of college, my car was the one extra expense I allowed myself. Every other paycheck has gone towards funding this move.
Hopefully, my persistence will pay off.
I shift the car into reverse, pulling out of the lot and onto the main street. I’m not awfully familiar with the route to my workplace yet, but I know it will come in time. In the meantime, I set my GPS to take me to SharpeFocus headquarters. A peppy song plays on the radio, and I tap my fingers along to the beat.
Pulling up to the skyscraping offices sooner than I expect, I thank my lucky stars that I chose an apartment that was close to the office. Finding a parking space is a bit harder than I had originally expected, and it becomes increasingly clear just how many employees work in this building.
I find parking about a thousand miles away from the office, but at least it’s a little cheaper. Stepping out of my car, I move as quickly as my high heels will allow, checking my watch all the while. I have time, but not as much as I had hoped.
When I step into the building, I stride over to the front desk, smiling and presenting the letter I’d been told to bring with me. The receptionist is an older woman who considers me with vague interest. I try not to fidget beneath her gaze, and she gestures away with a gnarled finger.
“In front of the camera, Miss…” she trails off, looking over the letter.
“Rhodes. Aimee Rhodes,” I quickly supply, shrinking back as she turns hard eyes upon me.
“Right,” she drawls, tapping a small camera on the top of her desk.
I step far enough back for her to get a decently angled picture, and moments later, she provides me with a badge. My picture is atrocious, and I’m briefly tempted to ask if I can retake it, but she’s speaking again before I can ask.
“You head on up to the twelfth floor. Your manager’s office will be down the first hall, to the left,” the receptionist says coolly. I smile nervously before edging away towards the elevators.
I rush once I’m out of the receptionist’s sight, jabbing the button to summon the elevator. It dings pleasantly before the doors part for me to step inside. All at once, a flood of people storm out of the elevator, while another crowd stampedes towards it. I lurch inside before I’m trampled, desperately hitting the button for my floor.
I lean against the back corner of the elevator, trying to ignore my anxiety when faced with the close proximity of what I can only assume are other SharpeFocus employees. One or two people file out at each floor, and the car is nearly empty by the time we reach my floor. I put on my best smile as I step out of the elevator, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
Now, to meet my manager.
I march in the direction the receptionist had directed me, finding a door with a name that’s barely legible on it. It appears to be ‘Jack’ something, but the last name is long and hard to pronounce. While I’m considering it, the man in question steps out, not looking remotely pleased to see me.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
“Yes, Mr…” I trail off, averting my gaze.
“Jack is fine,” he grumbles, gesturing for me to continue.
“My name is Aimee Rhodes. I’m the new intern. I was told to meet with you,” I smile awkwardly again. He considers me for a long moment, humming under his breath before nodding and slipping past me.
“You’re just in time, Miss Rhodes. I’m just on my way to a staff meeting and I’d like you to accompany me,” Jack announces, and I raise a brow before rushing to fall into step behind him.
“A meeting? Already? I hardly think I have anything to contribute,” I mutter uncertainly. He chuckles, pausing so I can catch up.
“It’s just the department heads, a standard meeting. All you have to do is sit still, listen closely, and take notes. Keep quiet, and you’ll have no trouble,” he says calmly.
I swallow a lump forming in my throat, nodding my head obligingly as we walk back to the elevators. We step inside, and he hits the button for the top level. I can feel myself growing dizzy just at the thought of how high up we’ll be, but I manage to keep my composure.
The elevator opens to a much more sparsely populated floor. Jack steps out, gesturing for me to follow. I jog to keep up with him as he briskly walks down a maze of hallways. After what seems an eternity, he opens a set of double doors and gestures for me to step inside.
My eyes widen as I take in the massive meeting room, wondering how I managed to get this far in over my head. Everyone smiles as Jack and I step inside, however, and I can only hope the group is as friendly as they seem. Jack takes his place at the table, pulling out a chair beside him, presumably for me. I sit down, casting my gaze across the crowded table. I don’t really recognize anyone, but…
Wait…
Holy shit.
There, at the head of the table, sits the man who had forged this empire. Carson Sharpe, the namesake of SharpeFocus.
My God, he’s gorgeous…
Keeping my eyes off of the CEO
is a challenge, but he seems not to notice me. I listen absently to the conversation that’s taking place, though most of it flies over my head—lots of real estate jargon that I’ve yet to familiarize myself with.
Carson Sharpe glances from department head to department head, looking somewhat troubled by the course the conversation is taking. I blink for a moment, tuning in as the meeting gets more heated. Carson slams a fist on the table, his gaze pointed as he scrutinizes each of his employees. He looks past me entirely, and I can only guess he doesn’t consider me relevant for the time being.
“Come on, people. Property values on the east side are dropping like crazy, and we’ve invested too much time and effort into our own lot to sell it for less than it’s worth,” Carson says icily, and I glance towards my manager as he stares intently at his hands.
I honestly fail to see why the marketing team has even been brought in for this particular meeting, but everyone looks shamefully lost as to what to suggest. I hesitate for a moment, biting my lip.
“If the property values are dropping, why not buy out the area? From there, you can improve the lots you own and hopefully drive up the value of all of them and the surrounding area,” I say with uncertainty in my voice, and Jack turns angry eyes upon me. For that matter, the eyes of everyone in the room are locked on me in that moment, including those of Carson Sharpe himself.
I shift uncomfortably, and Jack turns an apologetic look to the CEO.
“I’m sorry, Carson—she’s new and you know how they can be, these interns thinking they’re hot sh—” he begins, only for Carson to cut him off.
“What’s your name, young lady?” the billionaire says abruptly, his eyes capturing me in their snare. I give pause for the briefest of moments before speaking.
“Aimee Rhodes, sir. I’m sorry if I was out of line,” I manage, and he considers me for a moment before grinning.
“An insightful suggestion on your part, Miss Rhodes. We’ve been clumsy to overlook that possibility. Rick, get on the phone and see about buying out some of the other properties for rock-bottom prices,” Carson commands, drawing his eyes away from me for a moment to consider another man in the room who nods his head obligingly.
He turns to look at me again, seeming to drink me in, almost staring into the depths of my soul. There’s something less-than innocent about his stare, and I feel warmth pooling in my gut at his attention. “All right, team, get on the project immediately. This meeting is adjourned,” he announces.