The Executive Read online

  The Executive

  Copyright © K.I. Lynn

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This work is copyrighted. All rights are reserved. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the author.

  Cover design by Lori Jackson Designs

  Editor

  Evident Ink

  Marti Lynch

  Danielle Leigh

  Publication Date: January 30, 2019

  Genre: FICTION/Romance/Contemporary

  ISBN-13: 978-1948284059

  Copyright © 2019 K.I. Lynn

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Playlist

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  After all the words and the stuffs

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

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  Youngblood—5 Second of Summer

  Give You What You Want—Avril Lavigne

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  Like I'm Gonna Lose You—Meghan Trainor feat. John Legend

  Lies in the Dark—Tove Lo

  Way Down We Go—Kaleo

  Tear You Apart—She Wants Revenge

  Must Be the One—She Wants Revenge

  Love Me Like You Do—Ellie Goulding

  Take Me To Church—Hozier

  OctaHate—Ryn Weaver

  Bloodstream—Stateless

  There You Are—Zayn

  Ivy

  It was going to be a good day. At least, as soon as I was out the door. I could feel it deep in my bones—today was my day.

  It was my day to be offered a new position and finally quit working for the womanizing asshole. Maybe the grass wasn’t greener on the other side, but I no longer wanted to work for someone without morals any longer. The environment was toxic, and I was tired of fighting off unwanted advances.

  The clock was almost hypnotizing, the second hand captivating. I watched it tick around, passing numbers, running down the minutes until I left, making me zone out and jump when the phone rang. Everything around me came back into focus, and I quickly picked up the receiver.

  “Good afternoon, Ivy Prescot, assistant to Dante Kilgore.” Ugh, I hated the way I had to answer the phone. It was such a mouthful, but those were my instructions.

  “Hello, Ivy. Mike Deacon, here.” It was a familiar and welcome voice.

  A genuine smile crept onto my face. “Mike! How are you doing?”

  “Fine, fine. How’s Dante treating you today?”

  The conversation brought me out of my zoning, and I started going through the new emails. “Same as always. Like I owe him time between my legs.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  I made a noise of agreement. “What can I do for you, Mike?” I asked. It was unusual for Mike to call instead of his assistant.

  “I need to cancel our lunch next week. We’ll set up something in a few weeks.”

  I pulled up Dante’s calendar and flipped to next week, finding the Wednesday appointment. “That’s too bad. Why didn’t Stephanie call me?”

  “Unlike other CEOs, I’m fully capable of pulling up a number. Plus, there is the added bonus of hearing your sweet voice.”

  “Flattery. You’re just trying to make me feel good before Dante goes off.”

  A soft chuckle. “He is rather impetuous.”

  Something about the cancellation bothered me, and I couldn’t help scratching the itch. “May I ask why? This has been in the works for months.”

  “You really are quite perceptive. Honestly, I don’t like the way he handles things. I would have left negotiations long ago if it hadn’t been for you, but I’ve been hearing rumors.”

  I tried to ignore the part about me. It wasn’t a romantic sentiment, definitely professional, but still it made me wonder. “Rumors? Really?”

  Another chuckle. “You can’t hide the glee in your voice, young lady.”

  “Calling me young lady. Fourteen years older than me isn’t that bad, you know.” I slapped my hand over my mouth while I questioned my sanity. Flirting? Really, Ivy? You have Peter, remember?

  “Don’t tempt me,” Mike said, his voice lower than before. Almost suggestive.

  I was almost speechless. “Have a good day, Mike.”

  “You, too.”

  As I hung up the phone, I let out a sigh. Mike was a gentleman. He even had the distinguished look with a little bit of salt in his hair. Handsome, polite, and somehow, I couldn’t help flirting with him, just a little.

  Perhaps it was because he saw me as a person, not just a pussy. Or maybe it was just that Mike Deacon made me swoon. I didn’t normally swoon over men.

  “Ivy, where are the financial reports for last quarter?” Dante yelled from his office.

  I was tempted to ignore him, to continue working until he noticed the file sitting in front of him. Then again, I was fairly certain he’d been distracted by an intern hiding under his desk when I set it down.

  “Ivy!”

  With a sigh I grabbed my laptop and a notebook.

  “Have you checked your desk?” I asked as I walked in.

  His eyes narrowed, then down to his desk and the file.

  No sorry or thanks. Never. Always expectation.

  “The numbers aren’t great,” I said as I sat in a chair across from his desk.

  “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Why do I pay a sales team if they can’t fucking bring in new accounts?”

  I was so incredibly tempted to respond, but instead, I bit my tongue. The sales team wasn’t the problem. They did bring in potential clients. It was Dante who couldn’t close the deal.

  Dante was actually a good-looking man, yet his personality was disgusting. The quintessential handsome man with dark brown hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw. He liked to have a “personal relationship” with all of his clients. At least that was the bullshit he spewed dazzling them with his charming smile.

  Many had been snared in the web of charm. Many signed contracts.

  Unfortunately, his dick always got in the way of business, causing him to cancel lunch meetings to fuck whatever random girls he had on the side.

  All those cancelled meetings resulted in pissed-off people who didn’t sign new contracts. Lately Dante’s ego had taken over, and he let customer interaction slide. He was the boss, after all, and therefore, he c
ould do whatever he wanted.

  The numbers told a different story, and this rat was ready to abandon ship for more than one reason.

  “At least we have Chandelier set up to sign next week,” he said as he closed the file.

  “About that…” I trailed off.

  He groaned and leaned back in his chair. “What now?”

  “Mike Deacon just called and cancelled lunch for next week.”

  “Cancelled? Did he say why?”

  I shook my head. “He’s consulting his calendar for a new date.”

  “Shit. We’re never going to close this deal.” He let out a sigh.

  I said nothing. There was no reason to bring up what I knew. Rather, I liked seeing him stew. Mike wasted months talking to Dante. Then he realized Dante would never be able to deliver the sort of attention to detail a company like Chandelier demanded.

  I scanned over the calendar as I tapped my pen against the armrest. “Newlyn is coming on Monday.”

  Dante sat straight up, a determined look settling on his angular face. “Newlyn. That’s the department store chain, right?”

  I nodded. “They have over two hundred locations and are rapidly expanding.”

  “If we can get ahold of them, that could be long term.” He strummed his fingers against the wood top of his desk for a minute before looking to me. “Why don’t you come over to my house this weekend so we can work on the pitch?”

  And it begins. “We can work on that Friday during business hours.”

  He ignored me and attempted to sweeten the idea. “I can order from that Italian place you love.”

  “You love Eduardo’s, not me,” I reminded him.

  He waved his hand in the air. “Whatever. We can order a nice dinner.”

  “Dinner?” I asked with a quirked brow. I would never work with him on the weekend, let alone at his home, so it was somewhat entertaining to watch him flounder. Almost as if he would find something that would make me fall for it.

  “Or lunch, and we can work our way to dinner.” He grinned at me.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, Ivy,” he said with a smirk. “You can’t resist me forever.”

  “Watch me.” I glanced up at the clock behind him and cursed. “Shit!”

  He glanced behind him, then back to me. “Something wrong?”

  I jumped up and gathered my notebook, stacking my laptop and the files together. “I have a doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes,” I said. Though the doctor part was a lie, I did have an appointment I couldn’t miss.

  His brow scrunched. “Did you tell me?”

  I rolled my eyes. The man never listened to me. Captain of what was plainly obvious if he ever bothered to pay attention. “Last Thursday, Monday, yesterday, and this morning. I even put it in your calendar.” He would be doomed without me, and after five years of bullshit, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

  “Why can’t you make these appointments for after work?” he asked, clearly annoyed.

  “Because they’re only open until five.” I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I wondered how the man tied his own shoes. Then again, I’d been doing everything for him for years, and there were probably other women taking care of him before that.

  Dante was nothing but a man-child with a teenage libido and an entitled mindset.

  “Fine. We’ll talk about this weekend in the morning.”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “Always so feisty.”

  “Don’t chase me.”

  “That makes me want to chase you more.”

  “I’ll just run faster.” I waved my hand in the air as I made my way out the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  The second the stack from my hands was on my desk, I grabbed my jacket and purse, and was out the door.

  Once in my car, I pulled out my phone and noticed a missed text message.

  Good luck today. You got this!—Peter

  I smiled down at my phone before slipping it back into my purse. I’d only been dating Peter a couple of weeks, but he was a nice guy and we had fun together.

  Traffic was always a pain and I was a few minutes behind when I pulled into a parking garage across the street and found a spot. The few sparse minutes I had remaining to get inside and up had my pulse pumping as I speed walked across the street.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I walked up to the towering seventy-six stories of the Columbia Center. The sun reflected off the huge windows that encased the interior, almost blinding me.

  For five years I had worked my ass off, waiting for a promotion and a decent raise that was always out of reach. All because I wouldn’t sleep with my boss. Passed over to reward those who kept his dick wet or were one of the boys.

  A change was long overdue, but I was comfortable. One late night and a handsy executive who thought my thighs should spread for him, and I’d officially had enough. Pushing Dante away was almost a game after all these years, but I no longer felt safe after hours.

  Data Consolidation Services, or DCS, was a data collection and cloud service company with in-house software design tailored to its clientele, and similar to Kilgore Industries. The difference was DCS was a serious company while Kilgore was more Dante’s playground.

  The head of DCS was Lincoln Devereux, a young and driven CEO who quadrupled the company’s revenue in the six years since he took over.

  He was an icon of brains and an idol of looks. He embodied the sexy executive look, with perfectly styled hair, strong jaw, and piercing eyes. It didn’t hurt that his perfectly tailored suits accentuated his strength.

  I may or may not have stalked his photos when researching the company before my first interview. And then maybe a little after. He didn’t have a Facebook account or Instagram that I could find, but there were still photos of him everywhere. There was article after article about his accomplishments with DCS, but sparse when it came to his personal life.

  He was also very giving in his yearly donations, and not just the company, but with his own money as well. I still swooned over the fact that he gave so much money to The London Foundation, a charity to help survivors of suicide or the families they left behind. One hundred students’ tuitions were covered for one year at the University of Washington.

  I still couldn’t believe that the position for his executive assistant had been open for months and that, with the possibly hundreds of candidates, I’d made it through all the hoops to an interview with the man himself.

  My palms were already sweating, heart hammering in my chest as I made my way through the three-story glass and marble entry. It was light and airy and filled with the bustle of a busy afternoon. There were shops in the atrium as well as on the second floor.

  A chirp filled my ears, and I turned to see two birds chasing each other around the potted trees growing in what appeared to be an indoor grove.

  I was captivated watching the birds in my power-walked to the elevator, and I wasn’t looking in front of me. I barely caught the grey color in my periphery before slamming into an arm and chest. The hit left me off balance and gravity took over.

  My future flashed before my eyes and I saw myself sprawled out across the floor, before something grabbed me and I spun, ending in a dip like a perfectly choreographed dance. Though I was certain I didn’t look nearly as elegant.

  I blinked, wide-eyed, at the man who caught me as my heart slammed and adrenaline pumped through my veins.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said as he brushed a strand of hair from my face.

  “I-I’m so sorry.”

  I stared up at the man who caught me, and was struck stupid.

  I slammed into Lincoln Devereux.

  My brain short circuited, because Lincoln-fucking-Devereux had his arms around me, and there were some serious sparks flying. Photos did not do him justice. The man was so much more handsome in person.

  “No need. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He was beautiful. Ele
gant and regal in a crisp charcoal suit. Slowly he straightened and planted me firmly back on my feet. Then I noticed the men he was with, all in equally expensive crisp suits. I felt the heat flush across my face.

  “Thank you so much. Again, I’m so sorry,” I apologized profusely. Why did it have to be him? My stomach was so tight I felt nauseous.

  “It’s fine,” he said as he looked me over. “No blood.”

  “It’s all in my face.”

  He chuckled. “That it is.”

  He fished into his pocket and pulled out a business card holder. After borrowing a pen, he began writing on the back. “If you need someone to watch over you tonight to make sure you’re okay, give me a call.” He winked at me. “I’d be more than happy to make sure the blood has receded. I’ll be very thorough in my inspection.” He held the card out. “My personal number is on the back.”

  I stared down at the card in shock, trying not to notice the way my body tingled at just the thought.

  “Okay. Have a good day.”

  Have a good day? Way to sound like a complete idiot, Ivy.

  He smiled at me, that blinding, seductive type that makes women go weak a the knees, and returned to his companions.

  I watched after him, trying to settle down and not fawn over the fact that he gave me his number. Granted, it was an invitation for sex, but still, I was floored.

  Lincoln Devereux really was a god.

  I was in a bit of a daze as I made my way to the elevator and up to Amy in HR. We went over a few things and she gave me a few pointers, all of which went in one ear and out the other because of the way my skin still tingled from his touch.

  It wasn’t until she led me down to his office a few minutes later that reality kicked back in. Suddenly, I was a mess. There was already panic settling in knowing I was meeting with him, but after the encounter in the lobby what would his reaction be to seeing me again? Would I be the idiot girl who made a fool out of herself, or would he find it entertaining?

  The girl manning the desk outside his office had a frightened look on her face, her hair a mess as she searched the desk for her phone.

  “Mr. Devereux, your four o’clock is here,” she said with a squeak.

  Her demeanor was one of utter chaos, and by the state of the desk, the position was in desperate need of me.