Blackmailed by the Billionaire Brothers: The Complete Series

BOOK: Blackmailed by the Billionaire Brothers: The Complete Series
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Blackmailed
By The Billionaire Brothers

By
Sylvia Banks

 

Copyright © 2015 by
Sylvia Banks.

All rights reserved. This work may not be copied, redistributed or
stored in a digital database, with the exception of short quotes and passages for
the purpose of review or analysis.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any
resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Organizations,
places events in this book are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

 

Dear Reader,

Thank you for
purchasing this
ebook
. I hope
you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Join my mailing list
 
and I’ll let you know when my stories are at a special price or free!

- Sylvia

Other Titles By Sylvia

Bought By My Billionaire Boss: The
Complete Series

Chapter 1
 

The ultimate dare flashed over my
computer screen. I read it twice. My online friend, or rather, my online
acquaintance, “
Bouncy_loudmouth
”, triple dog dared
me. How juvenile. My fingers danced over the computer screen.

 

What do I get if I do?

 

I waited for a moment and then
I got a reply.
You’d get laid.

 

My girlish squeak echoed over
my cubicle wall and into the row of my neighbor office rats. Oh crap. Did
anyone hear that? I stood up, all five foot six inches of me, and tippy-toed
over the top of my fake wall. A sea of carpet-coated foam core board and thin
metal supports stared back at me. Nobody cared.
Story of my
life.
I sat back down and typed.

 

That’s insane. You’re insane.

 

Footsteps approached and I did
an “alt-tab”, switching back to my report.
Nothing to see
here.
Just on my lunch break. But people always got upset about me using
the work computer for personal things, even though I was punched out and off
the clock. If I thought about it, I was actually on a working lunch break. But
the last thing I needed was my boss coming over here thinking I was slacking
off during work hours.

A
suit clad
body went by and I switched back over to the private chat room.

 

Bouncy_loudmouth
replied
,
you don’t have to do it.

 

Of course I didn’t have to, but
you might as well call Marty
McFly
chicken. A triple
dog dare? Obviously Bouncy didn’t know me very well. Which reminded me…

 

Will you tell me if you are a boy or girl if I do this?

 

Long pause. Come-on Bouncy, I
don’t have a lot of time left on my lunch break.

I’d been talking, or more like
typing, to Bouncy for a few weeks and I didn’t even know his or her real name,
where she/he worked or any kind of in-depth detail about everyday life. We’d
gotten into deep and dirty details about our lives right after “hello”. I could
tell you all about
Bouncy’s
deep fear of heights,
political beliefs, and desires but if I had to tell you what Bouncy had for
lunch—forget it. With the heartfelt detail from the person on the other
end of the screen, I was willing to bet Bouncy was a girl. No guy would ever
divulge the things Bouncy did. Five minutes into our first chat session and we
were in our own private room talking about commitment issues.

 

Bouncy finally replied.
Sure.
How will you prove it?

 

What you don’t trust me?

 

Ha-ha. Yes, actually I do.

 

“Ms.
Renzi
,”
a flat male voice said.

I shot up from my chair,
twisted around and stood face-to-face with Warren
Trost
,
my boss. “Yes, sir.”

“When your lunch is over, would
you mind taking these packages to the mail room?” His gaze never wavered beyond
my face. His eyes were like two flames burning a hole through my soul. His face
a cool mask, but those eyes…Warren would be handsome if he didn’t look like he
was sneering all the time. Honestly, he was still gorgeous even with the
dead-pan
attitude and the intense expression. But, I was
never sure if he
was
plotting to fire me or murder me
so he wouldn’t have to pay a severance package.

He gestured with the parcels in
his hands. Mentally rapping on my brain, I came to attention and took the brown
wrapped boxes and said, “Sure thing Mr.
Trost
.” I
hoped I gave him a winning smile. It felt
fake
. He
probably knew it was
fake
. Why did I bother?

Warren looked like he was going
to say something else, but seemed to think better of it and shut his mouth. I’d
heard his last assistant quit within a week. She rambled something about his
etiquette as she stormed out the office with her file box. Not even our
persuasive HR manager, Ellis
Trost
and exact opposite
of his brother, was able to calm her down.

That was how I was promoted
from the filing room to the CEO’s assistant of “
BankTrost

after working here for two months. Ellis interviewed me for the position before
he
introduced
me to Warren. As long
as “introduced” meant Warren scanning me from head to toe for two seconds,
saying “she’ll due” and then waving me off.

There was a moment of awkward
silence, at least on my part, and then Warren left. My right
eye
lid
started twitching and I put slight pressure with a finger to relieve
the stress. Then real panic set in. I turned around to my screen. The line of
text starting my conversation with Bouncy was at the very top.

 

I triple dog dare you to sleep with your boss.

 

No! Did Warren see that? My
face burned in embarrassment. How could I face him again? Oh my cannoli. I had to
lie to myself and say he did not see that. It was the only way I was going to
get out of this day alive. Otherwise, I’d shrink down to two inches and get
stepped on by the five o’clock rush to get out of this place.

“Fabulous?” A familiar voice called
my pet name. It wasn’t a nickname—my real name,
Fabiola
,
was shorter.

I looked up and saw Barbara, my
old co-worker and boss, manager of the filing department. Scrambling to my
computer, I disconnected from the chat room and turned back to a stack of files
dropped in my lap.

“What’s all this?” I said.

“I know you’ve moved up in the
world, but really does Warren make you do anything?” Barbara leaned against my
cubicle entrance. Her fitted navy suit made her look like the
confident
bank manager I’d want on my side when applying for
a loan.

I sighed. “Well, I have these
packages to deliver.” I pointed at the small stack.

Her curly brown hair barely
manageable,
shrouded her brown eyes. Barbara was a sharp
shooter and I loved working with her. She’d been my manager until Warren
extracted me from my happy work home. I was still adjusting to his surly
attitude.

Curly brown hair waved as she
shook her head. “Well, at least he’s not chasing you out of the building.”

That was always a plus.

“So,” Barbara said. “Which
one?”

In total confusion I looked up
at her. She pointed at my computer screen. “Technically, you have two bosses.
Which one? Ellis or Warren?”

Heat rushed to my face fast and
hard as a steaming train. I was sure my face was the same shade of red as my
hair. She’d seen the dare. Speechless, I sputtered. “Uh…oh…
ahhh
…”

Barbara laughed and shimmied
her full-figured dairy-
aire
out of my cubicle. “File
those when you have time, please,” she called out. “It will give you something
to do.”

Yay. Work for me. Not that I
wasn’t busy. Warren kept me jumping but it was meaningless crap. Much like the
“take this to the mail room” garbage. I was waiting for the inevitable “get me
a Grande double frap coffee”. I got the notion he didn’t trust me to be his
personal assistant. He probably thought of me as just another crazy
red-head
to steer clear of, s
he’ll due
indeed. Wouldn’t it be a kicker if he expected me to
sleep my way to the
top.
But as stiff and well dressed
as Warren is, he probably liked men.

Besides, I had another boss
that was much more my style. Ellis, Warren’s brother, was the head of Human
Resources and much more…likeable. Eli had a sense of humor, made people feel
comfortable around him and called his brother “War” which I found hysterical.
War was the perfect nickname for him as my direct boss claimed battle on all
his rivals. I shuddered. Warren’s reputation as a ruthless leader and staunch
competitor was well known and respected. I thought it was awesome we had a
fierce commander in chief. Not so cool when he turned his brutal attentions to
me. Which was right now.

Light green eyes penetrated me
through to my core. The man wanted to give me a heart attack. Warren stood in
my cubical staring at me. His creepy silence unnerved me. Thank god the
computer screen was off. Barbara let me off easy. Try explaining my triple dog
dare to the boss.

“Ms.
Renzi
,”
Warren stared intently in my eyes.

I sprang up. “I’m on my way to
get these to the mail room.”

“That can wait, will you come
see me in my office?”

Oh crap. What have I done now?
My gut twisted. At the same time a lustful twinge ran through my girl parts.
Great. This was
Bouncy’s
fault. If I hadn’t been
challenged I wouldn’t be thinking about sex with Warren right now.

Following him into his office,
my legs moved like they were wading through sand. Was I already fired? Mom
would kill me. Warren took his seat behind his desk, scanning a piece of paper
in between his fingers. He held the sheet like it was fine crystal. If his
masculinity didn’t assault every one of my senses I’d think he was prissy.

I sat and his eyes flicked to
mine. The same unwavering intensity was even more unnerving being alone with
him. Intriguing how Warren never actually brought his face up. Rather, he
watched people through the filter of his nicely shaped eyebrows. It wouldn’t
surprise me if he thought keeping his head down saved economy of time. That was
just the way of my boss.

“It says on your resume that
you graduated from Notre Dame,” Warren eyed me. I couldn’t tell if he was
waiting for confirmation or an objection.

“Yes.” I smiled. Nobody dared
asked the real question. The question they wanted to ask. The
why aren’t you in accounting
question.

He set the resume down, folded
his hands and brought his face up. Not many received the full brunt of his
severe facial expression. Not head-on at least. Warren was blessed with a face
meant to command masses. His cleft chin begged to be slapped. Taut lips too
thin to pout but thick enough to bite hardly smiled. His strong nose blended
well with his light green eyes that usually saw people through long lashes and
perfect, masculine eyebrows.

“Why are you wasting your
time?” He said.

My smile dropped. “What do you
mean?”

The look on Warren’s face could
scare babies and almost scarred the piss out of me. He did not tolerate fools.
I saved him from actually asking the embarrassing question. “You mean, why am I
not in the finance department?”

The man stared at me. He
expected an answer and for me to read his mind. “I don’t want to be an
accountant,” I said. There, how ‘bout that
War
.
I wanted to stick my tongue out at him. He and my mother could brow beat me all
they wanted, but I hated numbers.

He picked up another piece of
paper. I could recognize the Experian report. My score was something in the upper
seven hundreds, I had no police record, never accused of illegal activity and
nothing that would suggest that I was a bad accountant. In fact, I was a very
good accountant. I just didn’t like financing.

“You’ve had no incidents in your
accounting career, and I’ve found no discrepancies,” he said. “So you want me
to believe that after four years of study, you don’t want to become an
accountant?” His sneer became more pronounced.

“That’s correct.” I lifted my
chin in defiance.

He looked through me or rather
he was trying to look around my answer—as if he could see the “real”
reason why I avoided the accounting department. The messiah’s honest truth
was—I didn’t like accounting. Four years was enough. I’d agreed with mom
to take the business track because it would be good for running my own
business. I wanted to run a bakery. But capital had all been drained with
student loans and living expenses. It would take me another five years before I
could save enough for my dreams to come true.

“I’m re-assigning you to
accounting,” he said. Warren glanced down at his desk as if the conversation
was over. He grabbed a pen and a form and started writing.

I gritted my teeth and said, “I
don’t want to go to accounting.”

Warren dismissed my words. “Report
to Barbara tomorrow. She will set you up.”

He was not going to get away
with this. If I didn’t need this job, I’d quit. But I had two more years until
my loans were paid off and rent wasn’t cheap. “Did you hear me?” My voice
climbed to shrieking tone. “I said I don’t want to be in accounting.”

“You better serve the company
there,” Warren said without looking up. “Not wasting your time across from me.”

I was ready to pull my hair
out. I stood and leaned over. “I’m going to talk to Ellis about this.”

“Go ahead.”

His mind was made up. Usually,
men had a difficult time countering an angry
red-head
.
Warren didn’t seem to care. He continued to write while I stormed out of his
office. I would not be transferred. I would speak to the Human Resources head
and clear this up. Or maybe I would quit. I wasn’t sure yet. First, I’d go see
Ellis
Trost
and see how he could help me.

BOOK: Blackmailed by the Billionaire Brothers: The Complete Series
12.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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