Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) by Claire Adams

our
way. He leaned over and whispered in my ear.
    “This is the girl I want to introduce you to. She is a
model for lingerie. She was very, very eager to meet the young American CEO I
have been telling her about. Look at her friends, too, Asher! Are they not
sexy? All of them are models—and they are all very, how do you say, liberated
in their attitudes about men and women, if you know what I mean.”
    “Aren’t all the French?” I joked.
    Anton grinned and clapped a hand on my shoulder as he
broke into laughter.
    The woman who had smiled at Anton came over to us
while her friends headed to the bar. She was drop dead gorgeous; she wouldn’t
have looked out of place on any magazine cover. The revealing, white cocktail
dress she wore left no doubt why she was a lingerie model. Long, silky,
chestnut-colored hair cascaded around her shoulders. She locked her stunning
brown eyes on mine and smiled flirtatiously as she approached.
    “Anton, is this your American friend?”
    “This is him, Marie. Marie Thenaud, may I introduce
you to Asher Sinclair.”
She turned to me and took my hand in hers. “It is a pleasure to meet you,
Asher,” she purred, her voice heavy with a French accent, but her English was
flawless. “My friend, Anton, told me you were handsome—but you are, in truth,
even more handsome than I could have imagined. May I sit with you and have a
drink?”
    I was a bit taken aback with how brazen she was. It
wasn’t what she said as much as her body language and tone of voice. Granted,
in my experience, French women rarely had any apprehensions with being forward
and despite how interested she seemed in me—and how incredibly physically
attractive she was— I looked at her sitting across from me and I simply wasn’t
interested.
    I smiled as it dawned on me: there was only one woman
I was interested in and she was back in California hell bent on giving me the
cold shoulder.
    Despite my feelings about the situation Anton had put
me in with Marie, I didn’t want to be rude to her or my host and tell the woman
to go elsewhere, so I shifted over on the plush sofa and made space for her.
Plenty of space.
    “Please, sit down, Marie,” I offered. “It's a pleasure
to meet you.”
    “Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” she said with a wink
and a smile.
    Her companions then showed up, carrying a number of
cocktails, one of which they handed to Marie. Our waiter arrived, as well,
bearing fresh tumblers of whiskey on the rocks for myself and Anton. The women
sat down, one on either side of Anton, and he draped an arm over each of their
barely-covered shoulders.
    “Now the party is about to get started!” he said with
a wicked grin.
      He raised his
glass, and the ladies all did the same. Reluctantly, I followed suit.
    “To Asher Sinclair, my good friend and business
associate!” he roared. Then, in one gulp, he drained his glass.
    “Whoa, thanks, Anton, but that's not how a fine
whiskey should be enjoyed! You know that as much as I do,” I declared.
    “I don't care!” he shouted. “Let's get drunk! Party!
Have some fun!”
    The women next to him giggled and sipped at their
cocktails.
    “Come on, Asher,” he said, “why are you drinking so
slowly? Are you a man or a boy?”
    “Anton, remember what we said? I don't want to have a
hangover-”
    “I said , are you a man, or are you a boy?”
    I shook my head and downed my whiskey. Damned peer
pressure. There didn't seem to be any point in resisting. Anton snapped his
fingers and called the waiter over again. He shot off a rapid-fire order in
French, and the waiter hurried off once more. In the meantime, Marie tried to
make small talk with me while Anton flirted brazenly with the other two women.
    After a few minutes, the waiter returned carrying a
tray with two fresh whiskeys and an array of shots.
    “Oh no, Anton. Come on, I did not agree to this.”
    “It is too late, Asher, my friend!” he said with a
laugh. “Come now! The ladies are going to