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    Not Safe for Work: A Billionaire Menage Novella
    Not Safe for Work: A Billionaire Menage Novella
    Not Safe for Work: A Billionaire Menage Novella
    Ebook83 pages1 hour

    Not Safe for Work: A Billionaire Menage Novella

    By Charlotte Stein

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    About this ebook

    “Employees must maintain clear boundaries between personal and professional relationships and conduct themselves in a manner appropriate to the office…”

    When Hartford brings in Abel Hernandez as the new CEO for his company Hartford Industries, he's prepared for Abel to shake things up…but not quite like this and certainly not with his personal assistant Amy, the one woman he's always wanted but never taken. He sees them breaking all of his precious rules, and he intends to reprimand them for it. The only problem is, it isn't anger he feels towards his two most trusted employees…it's possession. It's desire.

    Originally published in the Filthy & Rich box set, get ready for some #NSFW action in Charlotte Stein's sizzling standalone novella featuring two billionaires and the woman caught between them. Not Safe for Work is your dirtiest boss-secretary fantasies come to life.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMacmillan Publishers
    Release dateJun 27, 2017
    ISBN9781250132413
    Not Safe for Work: A Billionaire Menage Novella
    Author

    Charlotte Stein

    Charlotte Stein has written over thirty short stories, novellas and novels. Her collection of short stories was named one of the best erotic romances of 2009 by Michelle Buonfiglio, and her first novel, Control, was recently called “…a non-stop crazy hot sex book”. When not writing non-stop crazy hot sex books, she can be found eating jelly turtles, watching terrible sitcoms and occasionally lusting after hunks. She lives in West Yorkshire with her husband and their imaginary dog.

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      Book preview

      Not Safe for Work - Charlotte Stein

      The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author's copyright, please notify the publisher at: http://us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

      Chapter One

      The very last thing she wanted to do was show Abel Hernandez—new CFO of Hartford Industries—around. But when Hartford wanted something, Hartford got it. He snapped his fingers and she came into work on a Saturday morning, welcoming smile in place, itinerary on her iPad, every bit of her polished and coiffed.

      Nobody in the world would ever know she was irritated. The only thing they would see was a consummate professional, she knew. She even prided herself on it at times like this. It was gratifying to have Abel offer her a businesslike handshake, and an expression that said he found her correct in every possible way.

      Or at least, she thought that was what his expression said.

      But then he leaned in just as she went to pull her hand free of his, and said in a voice as smooth and warm as molten syrup, You really don’t have to pretend that you’re happy about losing your weekend.

      And suddenly she wasn’t sure what to think. She stepped back so she could get a good look at his face. But his face told her very little. He didn’t seem annoyed, or even like he was making fun of her. His dark eyes were free from mischief, and there was no smirk on his curl of a mouth.

      If anything, he seemed pleased, somehow.

      Like she’d done something super professional, instead of the opposite.

      Even though she suspected professional was not high on his list of pleasing things. Not like Hartford, who almost smiled when someone delivered a presentation without a single typo, or nodded his head just a little any time he saw you following the rules to the letter. No, this guy was different.

      And not just in terms of his attitude toward working weekends.

      She could see it in his dress—a V-neck sweater over a shirt, instead of a suit. Stylish, but not the rigid, stuffy look that Hartford favored. And then there was his hair, all thick black curls that seemed far too messy for someone like Hartford to approve of. It was the type of thing she might have seen in a Vogue spread about rugged outdoorsmen.

      Not something she expected from the new CFO.

      In fact, it made her wonder how Hartford and Abel were even friends.

      And that feeling only increased when he carried on talking.

      Don’t worry, I promise not to take up too much of your free time, he said, as if he truly believed free time was a thing. He even seemed to know what people were supposed to do with it. On a day like this you should be sunning yourself on a veranda and drinking something with twenty fruits in it and a lot of alcohol.

      She was so unused to comments like that she couldn’t properly reply.

      Instead she stood frozen for a second, then just blurted words out.

      I don’t really drink alcohol. Or anything with fruit in it.

      Ah, so you’re more of frozen latte sort of woman then?

      No, actually. I hate coffee, too.

      Well whatever summery drink you prefer, you will soon have it. I have absolutely no intention of keeping you longer than is strictly necessary.

      She winced, then. Somehow she kept contradicting him.

      And now she was going to have to do it again.

      Actually, the tour I had planned will take at least two days.

      I really don’t think we need two days, Ms. Elliot. All I require are the directions to my office, and maybe the bathrooms.

      But I have presentations on personnel and operations, amongst other things.

      She tapped her iPad, intending to bring up the itinerary.

      Only to have him stop her with a wave of his hand.

      Ms Elliot, I can assure you I am already very aware of the inner workings of this company. In fact, it has been my life for the better part of three months.

      Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t know your job, Mr. Hernandez, I—

      "Please, call me Abel. I’d even say call me Abe, but I always felt it made me sound like an old man, or a dead president. Maybe even an old man who is a dead president."

      She tried not to laugh at that. Hartford hated it when she laughed.

      Yet somehow it was spilling out anyway.

      She could feel her mouth curling at the corners.

      The sound was pushing at her pressed-together lips.

      And even worse: he noticed. Those black eyes seemed to dart over every inch of her face, as if searching for any trace of amusement. However, when he found some, he didn’t bark an order at her. He leaned in again, as if they were coconspirators. Murmured words mere inches from her lips.

      You don’t have to hold that in. Not with me, at least, he said.

      And just like that her ability to respond was gone.

      She went to speak, and only air came out.

      He had to fill in the blanks for her.

      Shall we? he asked, and waved one arm in the direction of the gilded bank of elevators. Then he just started walking, leaving her to trail after him in a daze. In fact, by the time he got there she was a good five steps behind him. He had to hold the doors for her, and the way he went about it only made her feel weirder, hotter. He did it with his whole body, so in order to get in she had to almost brush against him. She smelled his cologne, sweet and rich. She felt the warmth of him against the side of her

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