The Boss's Orders: Alpha Male Billionaire Office Romance Read Online Free PDF

the same color as the file folders. So it makes them hard to see.”
    “I see. So you would prefer…?”
    “The bright green ones. They’re my favorites.”
    His mouth twitches into something almost like a smile. “I wasn’t aware one could have a favorite post-it.”
    I blush as it dawns on me how stupid I sound to be standing here, talking about post-it colors with a man whose time is probably worth a thousand dollars a second or something.
    “Can I just put some things on the company card?” I ask, wanting to get out of his office as quickly as possible now.
    He looks surprised. “Of course. Claire, that card is yours. You don’t need to ask my permission. I trust you to know what you need to do your job.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    I go back out to my desk and pull up the website of the office supply company. I go on the shopping spree of my organization-loving dreams, adding to my cart highlighters of every color, bright yellow in-and-out trays to put on my desk, a dozen purple pens, a mint green pen holder, and of course, lots and lots of bright green post-it notes.
    Okay, so maybe working here isn’t so bad after all.
    With a twinge of guilt I think of Kelly and my other colleagues from Prescott & Bailey who were let go. I feel guilty for enjoying my work here, especially when it was because of Mr. Godrich that they lost their jobs. And at the same time, I feel guilty for not being appreciative of my job, when I know most of them would probably kill to be in my position.
    So, basically, guilt layered on top of guilt. A great feeling.
    I open up my personal email and shoot an email off to Kelly, telling her I hope she’s doing well and that I’d love to get together with her for coffee sometime. It doesn’t completely assuage my guilt, but it helps a little.

6
    Claire
    O n the weekend , I do everything to keep busy. I scrub the apartment from top to bottom, do nine loads of laundry, and make enough soup to live on for a month. I even go out for a drink with Vanessa and April, a first for us. Funny how it’s easier to be friends with someone once you’re not in debt to them.
    When I find myself on my hands and knees, voluntarily scrubbing the bathtub, I realize something’s going on.
    I’m trying to distract myself.
    Despite my best efforts, William Godrich is invading my thoughts, even when I’m not on company time.
    And every time I finally find myself free of thoughts of him, something will bring him back to mind. The smell of Vanessa’s fresh-brewed coffee. An ad for Rolex in a magazine I’m flipping through. A man in the grocery store who looks just like him from the back (and disturbingly like my high school chemistry teacher from the front, but that’s neither here nor there.)
    It all does nothing to help my crush, and I’m forced to admit that, despite my best efforts, I’ve got it bad. I can’t explain it. The arrogant smirk. The eyes that bore into you. The ripped body that I just know is hiding under that suit. The big throbbing … oh, my mind goes to some very dirty places.
    And I can’t help but wonder why he still hasn’t done anything even remotely like hitting on me. Not even a bit of flirting, really.
    By the time Monday rolls around I’m so frustrated and on edge and, yes, horny, that I abandon my usual black work suit and pull on a red wrap dress that I know shows off my chest in a borderline-inappropriate way. The dress is basically okay for an office — I mean, it’s not like I’m going in there in a cheerleading costume — but at the same time, I know I’m only wearing it because I want Mr. Godrich to take notice of me.
    And that seems like dangerous territory.
    But still I do it.
    Because the dress is such a soft fabric, I have to wear a thong underneath, or risk obscene panty lines. And of course, the only clean thong I can find is a black lacy number that I bought for a promising third date last year — a date that had gone nowhere, I might add.
    The thong does