At His Service: The Billionaire's Beck and Call (A BDSM Erotic Romance)

At His Service: The Billionaire's Beck and Call (A BDSM Erotic Romance) by Delilah Fawkes Read Free Book Online Page B

Book: At His Service: The Billionaire's Beck and Call (A BDSM Erotic Romance) by Delilah Fawkes Read Free Book Online
Authors: Delilah Fawkes
me like that.
    “What do you know about me, Isabeau?”
    He leaned forward, and I forced myself to stay
still instead of shying away. He was so close that I could smell the subtle
notes of his cologne: musk and wood with a hint of leather.
    “My apologies…   May I call you Isabeau?” He smiled up at me,
dazzling me for a moment.
    “Of course.” My voice sounded high and breathy. I
gripped the edge of his desk, trying not to fidget.
    “Good. What have you heard about me, Isabeau? What
do you really know about me?”
    What did he want me to say? That everyone said he
was an ogre? Or that they all wanted to sleep with him anyway?
    “I…”
    “Go on. You won’t hurt my feelings.”
    He was still smiling, slight dimples visible in
both cheeks. The sight was destracting, to say the least.
    “I know that you’re the youngest CEO and partner
in the company’s history, and I know that you earned the spot by working your
way up after graduate school instead of using your inheritance as a crutch.”
    “Everyone knows that. What do you know about me? The real stuff. None of
this press release bullshit.”
    I looked down at my hands, anything not to have to
look up at his face so close to me.
    “Um. People say… they say that you’re scary. And
that your assistants don’t last long.”
    He laughed, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill
up the office. I glanced up to see him smirking at me. I relaxed my grip on the
desk a little. Maybe I wasn’t being fired after all.
    “What else do they say?”
    Oh, God. He
can’t possibly want me to tell him everything. Does he? The look on his
face confirmed that he did. It was clear by the way he looked at me that I
wasn’t leaving this office until I gave him exactly what he wanted.
    “They say. Um… They say that you’re very, uh, good
looking… and impossible to please.”
    “Oh they do, do they?” He sat back, and tented his
fingers beneath his chin. “Well, do you agree with them? Do you think I’m
scary, handsome and woefully unsatisfied?”
    My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it
with a snap.
    “Yes. I mean, no! I mean, I don’t know…”
    He stood, then, and leaned in close, towering over
me. “You were right the first time.”
    Anxiety coursed through me, but I have to admit,
being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling the heat radiating off
his body, it made me wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To be his.
To be owned by him…
    His face was almost touching mine when he whispered
to me. “I am unsatisfied, Isabeau. I
want you to be my new assistant. Will you do that for me? Will you be at my
beck and call?”
    My breath left me as his words sunk in. When I
finally regained it, I felt like I was trembling from head to toe. His beck and call.
    “Wh-what about your old assistant?”
    Mr. Drake leaned back again and took my chin in
his hand, forcing my eyes to his. “What about her? I want you .”
    His touch on my skin was electric.   Are we
still talking about business?
    “Yes, Mr. Drake.”
    His thumb stroked my cheek for the briefest of moments,
and then he released me, breathless, and wondering what I’d just agreed to.
    “Very good, Isabeau. I’ll expect you here at 8
a.m. tomorrow, in my office, ready to work. Don’t be late.”
    He turned away, effectively dismissing me. I
hopped down off the desk and quickly made for the door. I didn’t want to give
him time to change his mind.
    “And Isabeau?”
    I turned back, my hand on the knob. “Yes, Mr.
Drake?”
    “I don’t tolerate sloppy work. Disappoint me, and
there will be consequences.”
    I blushed, and nodded, then closed the door behind
me.
    What had I
gotten myself into?

 
    ***

 
    “Isabeau! Get in here, now!”
    I jumped in my seat in front of the big, mahogany
doors, spilling my cup of ramen noodles onto my blouse.
    “Shit! Shit, shit, shit. ” If there was one thing Mr. Drake hated, it was sloppiness,
and here I was dripping with cheap soup

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