Claimed by the Billionaire: Lust #2 by Danielle Jamesen

Chapter 1
     
    I watched the rain fall through the window that was closest to
my desk. It splattered against the window, the clouds dark and angry. It was
day four of this endless rain and it made me tired. It made Greg cranky too, I
realized, having dealt with one of his temper tantrums this morning about going
to school.
    Mr. Gable had been in
his office all day, as usual. It had been a full two weeks since our almost
kiss in his office and me finding out his “date” had really been him just
meeting about his divorce. Things had been strictly professional since then
although he was a nightly fixture in all my fantasies. In fact, what I had for
him before — a crush, a flame, whatever word you wanted to use — had seemingly
grown tenfold since he distanced himself from me.
    Gone was his invites to
lunch or offers to do a meeting on Monday morning. He was clearly avoiding me.
If I hadn’t known he had been meeting about his divorce two weeks ago, I would
have thought he despised me.
    But I knew better and
being alone had made me abnormally confident. (Most likely due to the fact that
I didn’t actually have to speak to him or interact with him in any manner that
would test this new found confidence.) Mr. Gable had a meeting in ten minutes
with some investors but I had everything already prepared in the meeting room
that was down the hallway at my right. I yawned, which I quickly stifled as the
door behind me opened.
    “Serena,” Mr. Gable
said and I turned around to look at him, “Can you sit in the meeting
today?  I’ll need someone to take down notes and clear the calendar.”
    “Of course.” I said,
nodding.
    He looked extra good
today, I thought to myself. His hair was slicked back which was the only thing
I didn’t care for. I liked it better when he had his hair messy and tousled,
like the day of my interview. But other than that, Mr. Gable wore a perfectly
tailored suit with a tie that looked like something I could have afforded back
before I became poor. He carried himself with such an easy confidence that
usually would have been off putting, but in his way was more entrancing than
anything else.
    He headed off towards
the meeting room, “Show him in when he gets here.”
    “Yes, sir.” I said
after him but he didn’t turn back around.
    It was ten minutes
later on the dot when the man showed up, Mr. Stevens, from some investor
company that wanted to meet with Mr. Gable directly. I have to admit it that I
hadn’t paid much attention when I set up the meeting. I just didn’t find it
interesting and I was discovering that I had a talent for catching the most
important details with the smallest amount of effort.
    I led Mr. Stevens to
the meeting room, with a large mahogany table, a flat screen TV over it and a
mini bar off to the side, like something from the 1950s. Mr. Gable had his
tablet in front of him, as well as one phone off to one side (his business
phone, he told me) and another one he was slipping in his pocket (his personal
phone, wonder what he was doing on that one?).
    I sat down next to Mr.
Gable, who slid the tablet to me. I brought up his calendar and on it as well
as a section for notes and got ready.
    Mr. Gable cleared his
throat and leaned over to me as Mr. Stevens sat down, “Mrs. Warden?”
    “Yeah?” I replied,
flicking my gaze up to him.
    “Would you like to see
if Mr. Stevens would like a drink?”
    Oops. I stood up
quickly, almost dropping the tablet, asking Mr. Stevens if he’d like a drink.
He said no and smiled kindly at me, like I was the daft girls they hired back
when he was staring out, which, judging by his age, was roughly eighty years
ago. The meeting began and I began to tune out. Very carefully tune out. I made
the applicable notes and kept track of what I could but most of what the two of
them were discussing went deftly over my head.
    “…And we were wondering
if you and your assistant could come to our convention in Las Vegas next week…”
Mr. Stevens