The Hated Billionaire by Erica Frost

Chapter 8: Christina

I was sitting in my office, quietly calming down after the finance meeting, when my boss came to call. I had noticed he seemed a little tense – during the meeting, he had been sitting rigidly, answering questions as if he was on trial for something really awful. I had wondered if there was something bothering him.

“Christina…I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said, raising one shoulder in a shrug. “Sounds good to me. What’s up?”

“Christina…we need to talk privately. Can you come?”

“Sure,” I said. He walked into his office and when I was inside, he shut the door. Already, I was feeling pretty alarmed. I really didn’t need someone shutting me into their office. It was just the sort of thing to put me in a really bad space. I looked at him.

“Christina, I need a report done. And it has to be done the day after tomorrow.”

“What?” I stared. “What report is it?” I asked. It couldn’t be anything demanding – if it was a summary of something we’d already done, that sounded reasonable. I could do that. It would be extra work, but if it was something simple, it certainly wouldn’t bother me.

“I need a report written from the beginning – to describe all our calculations for the financial projections for the new venture. Everything has to be done transparently, so that the board can see why our return on investments is so big.”

“What?” I swayed on my feet. That wasn’t just some extra work – that was a massive task. And it needed to be done in a few days? That wasn’t sounding like something I could do, unless I could have my juniors working alongside for the two days – we could get it done together in that time, I guessed.

“I am sorry, Christina. But it needs to be strictly confidential, which is why I came to you. I knew that you would be able to do it alone, without needing to tell anybody what we’re doing.”

“What?” Now I was furious. This was just wrong! How could he expect me to do such a huge task alone? I hadn’t even done all of the projections – some of them were his! How I was supposed to explain stuff when I hadn’t done stuff was a mystery to me. I looked at him.

“I know you can do it,” he said firmly. “I know you will do it, because I can recommend someone to take over when I finally retire, and I know that I would recommend you if you do this for me.”

“You are literally threatening me,” I said. My heart pounded. I felt sick. How could he do this to me? He hadn’t actually threatened me, but it felt like it.

He shrugged. “I just said I’d recommend you if you did it,” he said. “I don’t see a threat there. Now, I expect to see that report the day after tomorrow.”

“You can expect it if you want,” I said, finally losing my temper. “You can’t get it.”

“Well, if you can’t do it by then, I will wonder whose projections were wrong.”

Now I really was angry. He meant that he would blame me for everything if I didn’t do this. And then I would be in danger. I had no way to avoid what he was requiring me to do.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it. But I won’t trust anything from you again.”

He nodded. He seemed perfectly calm. I was sure that he had every reason not to worry – after all, I was no threat to him, but he was a huge threat to me and he knew it.

I went into my office, sat down and tried to be calm.

“Okay,” I told myself firmly. “It can’t be that hard. Why would it be that hard? I can copy and paste bits out of the report we’ve already done and just expand on them – it can’t possibly be that difficult; not really.”

I opened the files he had sent me – the ones where he had done the calculations. I tried to understand what he had done and how he had done it. I was struggling.

“What the heck is that about, and why would he do it that way, anyway?” I asked myself, quite loudly.

I worked through my normal leaving-time. I was still working when my boss put his head in to say that he was leaving, and to ask me how it was going.

“Christina, you can finish it tomorrow. Really – go home and get some rest.”

“No,” I said. I was determined to finish. I was going to do it as soon as possible and get it out of the way so I didn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the week.

“Okay,” he said. He left. I felt better after he had gone. I shut the door and put the lights on and considered making some coffee. If I was going to be here all night, I might as well stay sensible.

I made some progress, and the report was starting to grow. It was getting dark outside. I stood up to close the curtain. I was starting to feel a little nervous. I had never actually worked in this building late on my own. It wasn’t a nice feeling and I focused harder on my work, trying to ignore the fact that I needed something to drink and my water-glass had been empty for a while.

I absolutely didn’t want to go out into that hallway.

Suddenly, I was thirteen and terrified again. My dad had come back from the gambling hall and he was swearing and cursing, stumbling up the hallway, trying to switch on the lights and getting frustrated and angry. He was shouting, kicking at the door. I could hear him shouting and I knew that if I went out into the hallway, something would happen. I needed to stay in my room. I needed to be quiet.

If I did everything right he wouldn’t shout at me. I needed to stay where I was and be still so that nobody would hurt me. If I did everything right, I would be safe.

I started crying.

I didn’t know why – I guess maybe the situation with my boss, and the assignment…it was all so similar, in its way, to how I felt as a child, hiding in my room so nobody would hurt me.

I knelt on the floor, sobs racking my body. I didn’t want to go out into that hallway. I was tired. I was scared. I had so much to do and if I didn’t get it right, someone would hurt me.

I was kneeling on the floor, sobbing, the tears running down my cheeks that had been inside me since I was small, that had been held frozen because it was dangerous to make a noise.

I knew the situation wasn’t the same, but I was tired and it was late and it was so similar that my brain was acting as it had when I was little. I straightened up, sniffing. I thought I had heard a noise.

The instant tension in my body; the huge fear that washed through me because I thought there might really be someone out there made me sob more. I was so scared, so unable to hold my tears back. I rolled up with my knees to my chest, my arms wrapped around them, wishing I could just feel safe.

Suddenly, the door opened.

I shot upright, ready to defend myself, my heart pounding sheer terror through my body. I stared as someone looked at me, eyes wide with concern.

“Christina?” Mr. Caden said. “What happened?”

“I was…crying. Sorry,” I said. I sniffed. My face was wet and I ran my hand across it, feeling the color drain from me. It was so embarrassing! I stared at him. He was looking at me, brown eyes wide. I had expected to see ridicule there, but instead I saw tenderness and sadness.

“Christina,” he said gently. “Please, come out of here. Come into my office. What happened?”

I sniffed. The lights were on in the hallway. It was inviting and warm. I followed him out of my office – where the terror had been so real – and up the bright, carpeted hallway that was empty, now, of people. We went across and up to where the big white desk where his secretary sat separated his door from the rest of us.

He stood back for me, opening the door so I could go in before him.

“Christina,” he said gently, as he followed me in. He shut the door behind me. I looked around and sat down on the leather chair across from his computer. He sat down on a stool, almost so close that our knees touched. I ignored that – I was too tired for the moment to think about it.

“I’m sorry,” I said. It was the only word in my mind just then. I kept on repeating it. I felt so stupid. What would he think? That I was crazy. I was sure he had already decided that I was a poor senior executive and that he was already wondering how to shoulder me into another position. “Sorry. I was just tired. I shouldn’t have been crying.”

“Christina,” he said gently. “Why would you say that? Of course, you should have been. The problem is with whatever made you cry, not with you.”

I looked up. Weirdly, that was something that had never occurred to me. Where I came from, it was your reactions that were wrong, not whatever had made you unhappy. I found myself looking into his lovely brown eyes. He was full of tenderness and compassion.

“I shouldn’t have been losing it like that at work,” I said. I sniffed. I reached for something to wipe my nose. He passed me a piece of kitchen paper towel. Our fingers touched and I was surprised by the tingle that went through my arm and rushed all the way to my mind.

“It’s almost eight at night, Christina,” he said gently. “It’s not work anymore. How long have you been here?”

“Since this morning?” I smiled. I tried to dry my face. I was sure he thought I was crazy, but he hadn’t said anything about that fact.

He chuckled. “Hell, Christina! I do give you a tough job. What the heck have you been doing in there since nine a.m. this morning?”

I sniffed. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it. Confidential.” I sniffed, blowing my nose.

He looked at me, his eyes wide. I could see gentleness there, and confusion. He coughed, clearing his throat. He had a beautiful mouth, I noticed – well-made lips, soft but well-formed. I felt my heart start to thump. I was tired.

“Christina, I am the company head. I don’t think you need to keep it secret from me.”

I blew my nose, trying to think of what to say. If I told him about the mess-up, maybe Burgess would be angry with me. But at the same time, he should know.

“I had to do a report. And fix some calculations,” I said. I found myself looking into his eyes.

He smiled. “I think that whatever it was, it can’t be that urgent,” he said gently. “You are so tired. You shouldn’t be working so late.”

“I’m not tired,” I snapped. I didn’t want to be angry, but I felt like he didn’t understand what had just happened. I knew that was ridiculous, but I was tired and my mind wasn’t doing the best thinking at that precise moment. “I am overworked, frightened and exhausted. I am trying my best to do something that someone has told me to do, which is impossible.” I drew a breath. “And I need to do it or nobody will ever think well of me again.”

I couldn’t stop crying. I knew he was there, and that it was inappropriate to cry like this in front of him, but I couldn’t help it. Almost twenty years of pain were welling up inside me, unable to be held back anymore.

“It’s okay,” I heard someone say. Suddenly, I was being held in someone’s strong arms, the scent of cologne and cotton suddenly overwhelming me. I wrapped my arms around him and held him and for the first time ever, I felt safe. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

I let those words sink into me and I held Brett Caden and he held me and let me cry. I slowly felt the tears start to lessen. I could sit up now. I leaned back, and felt his arms gently unfurl from around me. Slowly, as I stopped crying, I became aware of other things. How his knees pressed to mine. How his hands held mine. How he looked into my eyes, the tenderness mixed, now, with a strange interest.

I felt my heart start to thud. This time, the feelings that washed through me were not sadness. Or fear. I was looking into his eyes and feeling my body warm with heat that I had not felt in years. My heart was racing and I felt warmth flood throughout my body.

I thought that he was feeling something too. He was looking at me and the depths of his brown eyes were lit with an intensity of feeling that made my face flush. He took my hand and then, suddenly, he was leaning towards me and I was leaning towards him and our lips were meeting and we kissed.

I felt his soft, warm lips move onto mine, his tongue gently stroking across my own, seeking entrance. I felt my own lips part under his tongue, and it slid in and out again, carefully, teasingly tasting. His mouth tasted of warmth and mint and some slight musky taste that was uniquely him. I wrapped my arms around him and drew him closer and he held me and I could feel his hands on my back, even as my own were moving down his back, feeling the thick muscle that corded it.

He stood up and I stood too, our lips still together, our bodies pressing together with an urgency that raced through me. I drew him closer, feeling his hard, lean body against mine, the cool fabric of his shirt under my hands, his thick muscle beneath.

“Christina,” he whispered.

I looked into his eyes and I could see longing there; the same longing that was washing through me. I felt my heart race. This feeling was like nothing I had ever dreamed I would experience; nothing like my mind could encompass.

We embraced again. I was aware of the deep longing coursing through me, making me tighten my grip on him as he kissed me, my body and his both moving together, pressing on each other with a clear intent. I could feel his hips on mine and I wanted to push against him as his hands stroked to my lower back, just where my blouse and trousers met.

He was holding me, his lips pressed to mine, his body and mine grasped so close to each other that I could feel his breath as I breathed my own.

He looked into my eyes and I nodded. I wanted this as much as he did.

We grinned at each other, breathless and a little bit surprised, I thought, by our collective daring. It started to feel a little unreal to me as we walked through the door and down the stairs. Then, at the bottom of the stairs, he embraced me again, his lean body hard on mine and I knew that I wanted him more than anything.

We went down to his car. It was in the cellar – a parking-area reserved for the CEO and the other chief executive officers. I followed him to his car, parked by the front gate. It was a black BMW and I slipped into the interior and then he was sitting beside me, his body pushing against me as he kissed me, our hands straying from stroking backs to pressing breasts and stroking down between my thighs.

I gasped as he touched me. My need for him was urgent. His hand was between my thighs and I pressed against him, wanting him so much that I could barely hold back. He was looking into my eyes, his own body suffering as mine was with the longing we experienced.

He straightened up, grinning at me. “I think I should drive,” he said.

I nodded.

He moved so that he was sitting at the steering wheel and we drove through the darkened streets, the city quieting down as we moved from the busy downtown and towards the leafier part of town which he seemed to find more relaxing and familiar.