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Strictly Off Limits
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Strictly Off Limits
A Forbidden Romance Novella
Chapter One
I swiped a finger across my
iPhone one last time and looked at the piece of art lit up on the screen. Even
in the picture I’d snapped before leaving the store, the dress glowed with
thousands of tiny, gold sequins. Its beauty was indescribable. Epic. To die
for. Giving up my spring break would be worth it. Yes, it was far too lavish
and perfect for a fraternity spring formal, but I didn’t care. I had something
to prove.
The elevator dinged at the top floor of Brittany Industries. My heart thumped once as the doors slid open to reveal a sprawling office that looked as though it were regularly scrubbed with bleach. This was only temporary, but my palms were clammy regardless. It would be my first real job. These paychecks wouldn’t be signed by my parents’ neighbors with a smiley face as I balanced their four-year-old against my hip.
Each step farther into the office came with a deep inhalation. In reality, I had nothing to worry about—my new boss, Dean Brittany, was an old family friend. He’d watched me grow up. If my dad had such a thing as a best friend, he would be it.
Directly off the elevator was a platinum-haired receptionist with a low-cut blouse. “June” according to her nameplate. She pointed me in the direction of Dean’s office. I passed an empty desk just outside his door, which I assumed would be mine, and knocked lightly. When there was no response, I knocked again.
“Come in.”
The sunny, downtown Los Angeles skyline brightened an expansive office. Dean was on the phone, his seat angled toward the view so I could only see his profile. He checked his watch and, still staring out the window, motioned for me to sit. I perched on the edge of a chair in front of his desk. He didn’t glance at me once as he spoke into the phone. I, on the other hand, had nowhere to look but at him. Since I’d last seen him, his hair had shaded from black to charcoal.
As he listened, his thick eyebrows furrowed until one shot up. “Next month?” he asked. “That’ll drive up the cost by thousands. What makes you think I have that to spare?” He paused again, staring out at the skyscrapers. “I’ll give you until the end of next week. If it’s not finished by then, you can spend next month looking for a new job.”
He reached out and dropped the receiver without looking, but it landed directly in its cradle.
After a few moments of silence, I spoke. “Dean?”
His leather chair squeaked when he turned to me. “Alexandra James.”
His deep voice rolled over my long, mouthful-of-a-name. My friends and family always shortened it to Alex, and it tied my tongue to hear him say it that way—as if it were some risqué inside joke between us. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He stood and came around the desk toward me. In his sharp, navy suit, he wasn’t a family friend who used to come over for golf. He wasn’t Vivian’s dad, the girl I was sometimes forced to play with during dinner parties. The way he leaned in and straightened his jacket before settling against the edge of his desk was almost threatening.
“How long has it been?” he asked. My eyes jumped to meet his. Those I remembered—his bottomless eyes. Their deep, dark blue was how I imagined the bottom of the ocean.
“A few years,” I said, but it came out like a question.
“Five.”
“Oh. Already?”
“That’s when I moved to Los Angeles full time. I suppose it’s been that long since I’ve seen you and your mother. How are you liking USC?”
“It’s fun,” was all I could think to say. I dried my palms against my pants. This was the same Dean I’d grown up around, but my stomach hadn’t been this knotted since my first day of classes.
“Good,” he said. “I appreciate you doing me this favor. I’m sure this isn’t how you imagined spending your first spring break.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “You’re actually doing me the favor. I need the extra cash.”
“That so?” he asked, shifting against the desk. His knee ghosted against mine, and I jumped a little.
He looked at me expectantly, so I kept talking. “There’s this dress…”
He chuckled. “There’s always a dress. You sound like Vivian.”
“I’ve been invited to a fraternity formal.”
Dean glanced at my hands as I played with the fabric of my pants. I stopped immediately. He still didn’t speak.
“It’s next weekend,” I continued, “and I need a dress for it.”
“Won’t Gary buy it for you?”
“Normally, yes. But Dad said this one was too much. I believe the word he used was astronomical.”
He nodded knowingly. “How much is it?”
“Nine hundred and sixty-five dollars. Including tax.”
That heavy, dark eyebrow arched again. “For a frat party?”
Inside I cringed, but for some reason, my hands dug into my purse for my phone. Dean leaned over when I pulled up the picture, and I caught a hint of his cologne with my inhale.
He made a noise of approval. “I don’t know much about fashion,” he said, “but as far as dresses go, that’s a very nice one. And I imagine you’d look very nice in it.”
It was a harmless compliment, but his voice deepened as he said it. I tugged on the ends of my long, light hair. ‘Thank you’ would’ve been an appropriate response, but my vocal chords wouldn’t cooperate. I was too busy trying not to imagine Dean imagining me in that dress.
“I’m not sure how much Gary told you,” he said, “but my secretary, Grace, is out for her honeymoon. She’s very good at her job, and without her, my life feels a bit chaotic. I understand this is just a temp thing for you, however, I run a multi-million dollar business. While you’re here, you’re not Gary’s daughter. You’re my secretary. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, Dean.”
“Mr. Brittany,” he corrected immediately. “That’s what all my employees call me.”
“Yes, Mr. Brittany,” I said with a hint of a smile. I’d never addressed any of my parents’ friends that way. I doubted I’d be able to do it the entire week.
His eyes searched mine, and he cleared his throat. “Very good. You seem to take direction well. If that’s true, we should have no problems.”
“Consider me yours for the next five days,” I quipped. “I’ll take all the directions you give me.”
He hummed to himself, clasping his hands in his lap. “I’ll be paying you under the table, but as I told Gary, it will be generous. Just enough for you to get yourself that dress. But in exchange, I need your full attention this week. That means staying until the job is done. I requested my secretary not plan her wedding for this time of year, but clearly she did it anyway.”
I giggled into my hand, sure he’d meant it as a joke, but his expression didn’t change. I stopped and put it back in my lap.
He gestured behind me. “Grace left instructions at the desk for you. I’m not even sure what they are, but she should’ve outlined it all in the notes. You get one hour for lunch at noon, but other than that, you should be working on something at all times. If you need something to do, talk to June in reception. Try not to bother me unless it’s absolutely pressing.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, standing. His eyes scanned over my eggshell blouse and grey slacks. The pants hung from my hips since the store had sold out of my size. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but suddenly I wished I’d worn something a little more age appropriate.
“Where’d you get that outfit?” he asked.
“Um, Ann Taylor. I’ve never had an office job so I just—”
“No explanation necessary,” he said, rising with me. “June takes lunch orders. You’ll find my list of preferences in Grace’s notes. If I’m feeling like something specific, I’ll let you know. Otherwise choose from the list. You’re dismissed.”
I left the room with a dry throat. Walking into the office I’d felt apprehensive but easy. Suddenly my body was tight from his tone. His shift from my dad’s friend to my boss was palpable, and I wasn’t entirely sure who this man was. But I was sure of one thing—I did not want to piss him off.
The elevator dinged at the top floor of Brittany Industries. My heart thumped once as the doors slid open to reveal a sprawling office that looked as though it were regularly scrubbed with bleach. This was only temporary, but my palms were clammy regardless. It would be my first real job. These paychecks wouldn’t be signed by my parents’ neighbors with a smiley face as I balanced their four-year-old against my hip.
Each step farther into the office came with a deep inhalation. In reality, I had nothing to worry about—my new boss, Dean Brittany, was an old family friend. He’d watched me grow up. If my dad had such a thing as a best friend, he would be it.
Directly off the elevator was a platinum-haired receptionist with a low-cut blouse. “June” according to her nameplate. She pointed me in the direction of Dean’s office. I passed an empty desk just outside his door, which I assumed would be mine, and knocked lightly. When there was no response, I knocked again.
“Come in.”
The sunny, downtown Los Angeles skyline brightened an expansive office. Dean was on the phone, his seat angled toward the view so I could only see his profile. He checked his watch and, still staring out the window, motioned for me to sit. I perched on the edge of a chair in front of his desk. He didn’t glance at me once as he spoke into the phone. I, on the other hand, had nowhere to look but at him. Since I’d last seen him, his hair had shaded from black to charcoal.
As he listened, his thick eyebrows furrowed until one shot up. “Next month?” he asked. “That’ll drive up the cost by thousands. What makes you think I have that to spare?” He paused again, staring out at the skyscrapers. “I’ll give you until the end of next week. If it’s not finished by then, you can spend next month looking for a new job.”
He reached out and dropped the receiver without looking, but it landed directly in its cradle.
After a few moments of silence, I spoke. “Dean?”
His leather chair squeaked when he turned to me. “Alexandra James.”
His deep voice rolled over my long, mouthful-of-a-name. My friends and family always shortened it to Alex, and it tied my tongue to hear him say it that way—as if it were some risqué inside joke between us. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He stood and came around the desk toward me. In his sharp, navy suit, he wasn’t a family friend who used to come over for golf. He wasn’t Vivian’s dad, the girl I was sometimes forced to play with during dinner parties. The way he leaned in and straightened his jacket before settling against the edge of his desk was almost threatening.
“How long has it been?” he asked. My eyes jumped to meet his. Those I remembered—his bottomless eyes. Their deep, dark blue was how I imagined the bottom of the ocean.
“A few years,” I said, but it came out like a question.
“Five.”
“Oh. Already?”
“That’s when I moved to Los Angeles full time. I suppose it’s been that long since I’ve seen you and your mother. How are you liking USC?”
“It’s fun,” was all I could think to say. I dried my palms against my pants. This was the same Dean I’d grown up around, but my stomach hadn’t been this knotted since my first day of classes.
“Good,” he said. “I appreciate you doing me this favor. I’m sure this isn’t how you imagined spending your first spring break.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “You’re actually doing me the favor. I need the extra cash.”
“That so?” he asked, shifting against the desk. His knee ghosted against mine, and I jumped a little.
He looked at me expectantly, so I kept talking. “There’s this dress…”
He chuckled. “There’s always a dress. You sound like Vivian.”
“I’ve been invited to a fraternity formal.”
Dean glanced at my hands as I played with the fabric of my pants. I stopped immediately. He still didn’t speak.
“It’s next weekend,” I continued, “and I need a dress for it.”
“Won’t Gary buy it for you?”
“Normally, yes. But Dad said this one was too much. I believe the word he used was astronomical.”
He nodded knowingly. “How much is it?”
“Nine hundred and sixty-five dollars. Including tax.”
That heavy, dark eyebrow arched again. “For a frat party?”
Inside I cringed, but for some reason, my hands dug into my purse for my phone. Dean leaned over when I pulled up the picture, and I caught a hint of his cologne with my inhale.
He made a noise of approval. “I don’t know much about fashion,” he said, “but as far as dresses go, that’s a very nice one. And I imagine you’d look very nice in it.”
It was a harmless compliment, but his voice deepened as he said it. I tugged on the ends of my long, light hair. ‘Thank you’ would’ve been an appropriate response, but my vocal chords wouldn’t cooperate. I was too busy trying not to imagine Dean imagining me in that dress.
“I’m not sure how much Gary told you,” he said, “but my secretary, Grace, is out for her honeymoon. She’s very good at her job, and without her, my life feels a bit chaotic. I understand this is just a temp thing for you, however, I run a multi-million dollar business. While you’re here, you’re not Gary’s daughter. You’re my secretary. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, Dean.”
“Mr. Brittany,” he corrected immediately. “That’s what all my employees call me.”
“Yes, Mr. Brittany,” I said with a hint of a smile. I’d never addressed any of my parents’ friends that way. I doubted I’d be able to do it the entire week.
His eyes searched mine, and he cleared his throat. “Very good. You seem to take direction well. If that’s true, we should have no problems.”
“Consider me yours for the next five days,” I quipped. “I’ll take all the directions you give me.”
He hummed to himself, clasping his hands in his lap. “I’ll be paying you under the table, but as I told Gary, it will be generous. Just enough for you to get yourself that dress. But in exchange, I need your full attention this week. That means staying until the job is done. I requested my secretary not plan her wedding for this time of year, but clearly she did it anyway.”
I giggled into my hand, sure he’d meant it as a joke, but his expression didn’t change. I stopped and put it back in my lap.
He gestured behind me. “Grace left instructions at the desk for you. I’m not even sure what they are, but she should’ve outlined it all in the notes. You get one hour for lunch at noon, but other than that, you should be working on something at all times. If you need something to do, talk to June in reception. Try not to bother me unless it’s absolutely pressing.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, standing. His eyes scanned over my eggshell blouse and grey slacks. The pants hung from my hips since the store had sold out of my size. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but suddenly I wished I’d worn something a little more age appropriate.
“Where’d you get that outfit?” he asked.
“Um, Ann Taylor. I’ve never had an office job so I just—”
“No explanation necessary,” he said, rising with me. “June takes lunch orders. You’ll find my list of preferences in Grace’s notes. If I’m feeling like something specific, I’ll let you know. Otherwise choose from the list. You’re dismissed.”
I left the room with a dry throat. Walking into the office I’d felt apprehensive but easy. Suddenly my body was tight from his tone. His shift from my dad’s friend to my boss was palpable, and I wasn’t entirely sure who this man was. But I was sure of one thing—I did not want to piss him off.
book tags: romance books with older men, older man younger woman, boss secretary relationship, forbidden taboo erotic romance, alpha males, los angeles, wealthy ceo, novella, romance books about boss and secretary, college