Pawn of the Billionaire by Kristin Frasier, Abigail Moore

heard the shower start and he came back through, comfortable with his toned body. He stretched out his hand.
    “Come on, let’s get you into the shower.”

James
    I sat in the car after lunch, feeling both exhilarated and exhausted. I slipped the papers I needed out of the folder while David drove up towards the city. I couldn’t concentrate on them, and I rubbed my hands over my face and stared out of the window.
    I was besotted. What the fuck was I doing, installing her in my house when I felt like this about her? I’d be better off shipping her straight off to England and letting my father and his staff sort her out. I couldn’t run my business if I couldn’t put my mind to paperwork, or if I just didn’t turn up at work one day.
    But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take my mind off the memory of her body laid over my lap like an offering. An offering that I took. An offering that I would remember for a long time. It was only this morning. I wanted to turn the car around and go home, check those ass cheeks for pinkness, see if my mark was still there.
    I. Could. Not. I must not. I must go to work, and sort out what to do with her app idea. In any event, I’d introduced her to Anne Russell, her new maid, and left the two of them in animated conversation about what sort of clothes would suit her new life. A phone call or two and a team of dressers and a mountain of designer clothing was descending right now at my home. I shuddered. Let them shop. I was well out of it.
    I shook my head. I had to read the papers.
----
    I set down my coffee . “Okay, guys. The main item on the agenda is the release of Chess, which is set for next month. But before we get to that item, I want to arrange someone to be set onto a small vanity project - except that we mustn’t call it that.”
    Tom looked at me in amazement. “A vanity project? Jesus, boss. You know they’re more trouble than they’re worth.” He shook his head. “No one ever believes they’ve invented a dud. It’s always our fault if it doesn’t work. And they never work.” He was leaning forward, intent on talking me out of this. “It’s not fair on anyone to put them on this. It could set them back years in their portfolio.”
    I leaned back in my chair. Tom and I went back a long way. Which is why he was the only one who’d dare to talk to me like he did.
    “It’s no good, Tom. I know all that. But I’ve made a promise. End of story.” I sat forward. “I’ll make sure that whoever takes it doesn’t lose out. But this project starts tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow?” Tom ran his hand through his hair distractedly. “I haven’t got anyone I can spare that soon.”
    “I’ll take it if you like.” The voice came from further down the table. I looked over. It was one of the new guys on internship. I dredged my mind. The name came to me.
    “Paul.” I nodded acknowledgment of his offer and looked back at Tom. I wouldn’t interfere in who he allocated, I’d given him that department.
    Tom looked around at Paul. “I appreciate that, Paul. But you’ve not done a vanity yet. And you’re here to learn real stuff, not personal appeasement.” He glared back at me.
    “See what you’ve done? Paul hasn’t got the experience you’ll need and now he’s going to waste his time on that.” He scowled. “What sort of app is it, anyway?”
    I grinned. “No idea.”
    “What?” Tom shook his head at me. “What the hell’s got into you man?”
    I almost laughed out loud at him. “Not telling.”
    I looked down the table. “Paul, thanks for the offer. You’re paid as from now at the relevant rate. Clear your projects this afternoon. I’ll bring the client along tomorrow at nine. All the usual confidentiality clauses apply.” I met his eyes. “We have to make this one work as well as we can.” I nodded at him, then turned back to Tom.
    “Okay. Let’s talk about Chess.” I leafed through the marketing folder. “Have we fixed all the beta gripes