Billionaire Seeking Bride #1

  Billionaire Seeking Bride #1

  BBW Alpha Billionaire Romance

  Mac Flynn

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Continue the adventure

  Other Series By Mac Flynn

  Copyright (c) 2017 by Mac Flynn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  1

  There we were, dancing to the beat of our bodies against each other. Overhead was the brightest moon I'd ever dreamed I would see, and in front of me was the handsomest man I could imagine. His dark, rugged looks warmed my body, and my thick hips rubbed against his as we waltzed into each others' hearts. I was his and he was mine, and I wanted him to take me with all the ferocity and gentleness of a lover.

  We danced along the grass, and the hem of my dress swooped over the blades and just barely touched their tops. My dress hugged my curvaceous body and accentuated my full breasts. My partner looked down at me and flashed a smile that heightened my desire for him. He opened his mouth, and I leaned towards him to listen to the beautiful words flow from those tempting lips.

  "What the hell are ya doing with that broom?"

  I yelped and juggled the broom in my hand. I managed to get a hold of it and clutch the cleaning supply to my ample chest. A blush rose to my cheeks and I glanced over my shoulder to see Tom the janitor standing in the doorway staring at me with a raised eyebrow. His grizzled old eyes glanced between the broom in my hand and my blushing face. There I was, Miss Vicki Loom standing there with a broom clasped to my breasts like it was the lover I'd imagined. Oh, and did I forget to mention I was also a janitor?

  "Um, nothing, Tom. I was just-um-"

  "It looked like ya were getting ready to twirl that thing out the window," he quipped as he nodded at the large windows in front of me.

  We stood in one of the smaller offices in a tall office building in a no-name city. Outside the tall, broad windows was a night sky lit up with thousands of streetlights, passing cars, and other office buildings. Our duty as janitors in this building was to make sure everything on our designated floors was spick, and to not forget the span. I set the broom on my supply cart and shrugged.

  "I was just, um, just making dust circles. You know, to attract the aliens," I teased.

  "Uh-huh. There better not be that much dust in this place or you won't be making 'em for long," he warned me.

  I sighed and my shoulders slumped forward. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

  "It would for the rent. In all yer fooling around did ya get this place clean?" he asked me.

  "Yes, Tom," I replied.

  "Good. Now let's get to waxing them floors. You know I can't handle that bucking bronco. Not in my old age." He leaned forward and rubbed his back. Tom was approaching seventy and was as skinny as a rail, but I didn't let his frail appearance fool me. That guy could lift two of me, and that was saying something.

  "You just don't want the wax machine to tempt you into taking it for a ride," I teased.

  He grinned and shrugged. "Mayhaps that's true, but yer better at the danged thing than I am."

  I raised one of my pudgy arms and flexed the non-existent muscles. "It helps being a big girl."

  Tom frowned. "It ain't just a matter of what ya look like. You've got a lot of discipline in those arms, more than most girls. Now ya just need to be disciplined in not sweeping the brooms off their feet with yer fancy dancing."

  "It was just a waltz," I argued as I wheeled my cart out into the hall. Tom stepped aside so I could pass. "Besides, a girl can dream, can't she?"

  "Yeah, but I recommend ya not do it on the clock. Wait until yer break to woo the cleaning supplies," he quipped.

  I snorted. "You're such a romantic, Tom. You should try your hand at writing romances."

  He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Not my kind of reading. Give me a western any day."

  I laughed and wheeled my cart down the hall with Tom at my side. "So what floor do we need to wax today?"

  "Our own. It's getting pretty grimy down there," he told me.

  I shuddered. Our 'floor' was the basement of the forty-story building. "It is pretty nasty, isn't it?" We sacrificed our floor to clean the others, we and the janitors who worked the day shift.

  "A cockroach scurried by me and gave me the finger for yelling at him. You know it's gotten bad when those damned things start getting insolent," Tom replied.

  I smiled. "Maybe you squished his father."

  Tom shook his head as we took an elevator down to the basement. "Nope. Don't squish 'em. I kill 'em with spray. Less mess that way."

  "Like I said before, you're such a romantic, Tom."

  "I'd rather be a rich man than that."

  "Well, if you find a nice girl who falls in love with you maybe you can have your Cinderella story come true," I teased.

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal a long, windowless hallway. It stretched the full length of the building and ended in an exterior door that led to an alley. On either side of the hall were doors that led to our own little closets where we could set our carts and put our feet up on tiny desks. Not bad if you weren't claustrophobic and afraid of the dark. "This place is just so cheerful," I quipped.

  We walked forward towards my little hole-in-the-wall on the left. "A job's worth a sight more than the glamorous life of being poor," Tom scolded me.

  "Yeah, but don't you ever want something more than-" I paused as we reached my little abode, and a frown slid onto my lips.

  Tom's eyes flickered between me and the door. "What? Ya see that damned little roach?" he asked me.

  I shook my head and pointed a finger at my door. "My door's open."

  Tom's face drooped and his eyes narrowed. "Is that what has you worked up."

  I whipped my head to him and glared at his wizened old face. "I never leave the door open. Ever. You know that."

  Tom frowned and squinted his eyes at my door. He rubbed his chin in one of his grizzled hands. "Hmm, maybe the latch is broken," he suggested. I grabbed the knob and pulled the door towards us. It latched. Tom frowned. "Guess not."

  I opened the door and reached around to flick on the light switch. The small, concrete cubicle was illuminated by a single bulb. It showed my worn swivel chair and the small, broken desk in one corner, and the bare walls in the other corners. I peeked in and inspected the place. My curious eyes fell on a slip of paper on the desk. Satisfied I wasn't going to be jumped by a rapist with a fetish for large women, I slipped inside and over to the desk. I picked up the paper and frowned.

  "What ya got there?" Tom asked me as he followed me into the room.

  "It's an application for a secretary's position," I told him.

  He raised an eyebrow. "Here?" I nodded. "Maybe it fell out of yer cart trash?"

  I tilted my head towards him. "Nothing falls out of my trash," I countered.

  He shrugged. "Then I'm stumped."

  "So am I. . ." I muttered. My eyes browsed over the application and the attached list of qualifications. "This is weird. The secretary's supposed to be one of the ones helping the CEO, but they're not even asking for secretarial experience."

  "Lemme see that," Tom dema
nded. I handed over the paper and he read the contents. "Well, I'll be. You're right."

  I snorted and snatched the paper from him. "Of course I'm right. Don't you know my last name is Miss Right?"

  He shook his head. "Nope, but what are ya gonna do about the application?"

  I looked down at the paper and shrugged. "I don't know, shred it?"

  Tom leaned towards me and looked me in the eyes. "Why don't you try applying for it?"

  I rolled my eyes to his grizzly, expectant face. "Because the qualifications aren't that low that a janitor should be applying."

  "You've got a good head on your shoulders, and you've got one of them fancy college degrees. What was it in again?" he wondered.

  "English."

  "And that's helped you some. You can bullshit with the best of them," he insisted.

  I snorted. "Have you been reading the boss' trash again?" I scolded him.

  He grinned and shrugged. "Just in a few of the offices. It's good bullshit in those bins. Makes me laugh."

  I looked back at the page and sighed. "I suppose it won't hurt to try."

  "That's the spirit! When's the resume-thingy due?" he asked me.

  "Says it's due tomorrow by five at the top office. I need to leave my resume with the secretary up there," I told him.

  "That'll work for ya. You drop off yer stuff and get to work a little early," he suggested.

  That was easier said than done, as I was to find out the next day.

  2

  I was a little nervous the next day when I came into the building through the lobby like one of the normal employees. The sun was still in the sky and the lobby was crowded with people coming and going as they sought to obey instructions from the top. That's where I was going as I piled into the crowded elevator where elbow room would have seemed spacious.

  Clutched in my sweaty hand was my resume, a single-page report of my few life and professional accomplishments. That slip of paper would decide whether I would even get an interview, or if I would be tossed back onto the trash bin of my janitorial job. I feared and expected that outcome. The expectation arose from my flimsy little resume, and the fear was my large rear would forever be trapped in that trash bin, never to know another occupation. I'd wind up as old as Tom before I retired.

  As my fears climbed so did the elevator. The other occupants came and went, but the crowd slowly thinned until only I remained. The lit numbers on the button panel climbed higher and higher until the illuminated button shined on the number '40.' The elevator stopped and the doors swooshed open. Before me was a small lobby and beyond that was the Long Walk, a hallway that stretched past offices until it reached a pair of doors at the very end of the building.

  Those were the doors to the office of the company CEO, Alec Strong. I'd never met the man in-person, but I knew what he looked like. A tall, dark, handsome man a few years old than me. His eyes bespoke of lust whenever I saw his picture in the downstairs lobby, and his sly smile hinted at pleasures he promised me. That as, in my dreams. He was the tall stranger who wooed me in the form of my broom. Unfortunately, he didn't even know I existed. I was a lonely janitor, he the CEO. It was like Cinderella but with no Fairy Godmother to intervene on my behalf. Tom didn't exactly fit the part.

  I had to get myself together. I wasn't here to woo the boss. I needed to focus on turning in my resume and not let the elevator doors close on me. I yelped and slipped between the closing doors. My belly and back caught a little on either end, but I stumbled into the lobby still in one piece. My little yelp attracted the attention of a few open doors, and the occupants peeked their heads out and raised their eyebrows at me.

  I smiled, straightened my work blouse and coveralls, and walked down the hall as though nothing had happened. The cubicle occupants returned to their typing and talking, and I reached the end of the hall without making a further idiot of myself. The prize that awaited me in front of door number one was an unsmiling woman of thirty with wavy brown hair and a figure that resembled a bone after a hungry dog gnawed on it. Curves in all the wrong places, and most were chewed to a sharp point. On the opposite wall was an empty desk, the tell-tale sign of the vacancy.

  I stopped in front of her desk and stood there for a few moments. On the desk was a nameplate with the name Sarah Vitra stamped on the front, and in a basket beside the secretary was a large stack of resumes. The top resume referenced the job I wanted.

  Miss Vitra's complete attention was on reading a piece of paper in front of her with the tip of her pencil trailing along the lines. I cleared my throat, and she looked up from her paperwork. Her eyes scoured me with a look of disdain. "The trash baskets are supposed to be picked up later," she told me.

  Oh, she wanted to play that game. I smiled sweetly at her. "I was wondering why the trash wasn't in the basket yet, but that's not why I'm here." I snapped the paper towards hers. "I'm here to turn in my resume for the secretary position."

  She raised an eyebrow and took the slip between two fingers like she was afraid I had cooties. Her eyes browsed the few contents and flickered up to me. "Is this it?"

  I shrugged. "It's all I could come up with."

  She glanced over the paper again. "It looks like your only qualification is your degree."

  "I'm still willing to try, so if you could just put my name in the pile I'll go," I promised, hoping that little temptation would get her moving.

  Vitra smiled at me, but I didn't like that look in her eyes. It spelled trouble with a capital 'S' for shit. "Very well. I'll file it where it needs to go." She swung my paper over the stack of resumes and opened her fingers. At the last minute her hand moved a little farther, over the edge of the desk, and my resume fluttered into the waste basket.

  "What the hell?" I growled. I snatched the paper from the basket and inadvertently crinkled it.

  Vitra leaned across the desk and her grin widened. "I'm sorry, but the resume deadline passed five minutes ago. Maybe next time."

  I checked my watch. It was a quarter till five. "The application said it closed at five. I still have fifteen minutes," I argued.

  "I'm afraid there was a change in the deadline. Maybe you didn't see the memo taped to your mop handle," she retorted.

  I was just about to reach across the desk and strangle her scrawny neck when the doors behind her opened. In the doorway stood the CEO himself, Alec Strong. He was even more handsome in the flesh, a thought which got my heart thumping and my cheeks blushing. He walked over to us with a cheerful smile on his face.

  "Who do we have here, Miss Vitra? Another applicant?" he asked his secretary.

  "I-I don't think so, Mr. Strong. She doesn't have very good qualifications," Vitra replied.

  "Is that so?" He turned his attention to me and held out his hand. "I assume that's your resume. Mind if I take a look?"

  His eyes dazzled me, but I shook myself from his power. "What? Oh, sure." I handed him my resume and he browsed the contents.

  He frowned when he noticed the crumpled state of the paper. "This resume's seen some pretty rough days."

  "Miss Blank here was trying to file it under T for Trash," I told him.

  He looked to blank with narrow eyes. "Is this true?"

  Suddenly the top of her desk was very interesting and she shrugged. "It's almost time to stop accepting them," she defended herself.

  "But not quite, so we will accept Miss-" He paused and looked down at my resume. "Miss Vicki Loom."

  I held out my hand. "You can call me Vicki," I replied.

  He smiled and gave my hand a good shake. "A pleasure to meet you, Vicki. It says here you're one of our janitors."

  "Yes, one of the night janitors."

  He stepped to one side and swept his arm towards the open doors to his office. "Won't you step into my office so we can discuss your resume?"

  Vitra choked on her spit. "But Mr. Strong, she doesn't have any qualifications that match-"

  "You can vet the other candidates for me, Miss Vitra, but I belie
ve Vicki needs some special attention," he countered.

  I swear everything he said was a sexual innuendo, or I hoped it was. I brushed past the stunned Vitra's desk and into the office. Strong followed me and closed the doors behind us. This was my first visit in his office. Tom handled the top floor himself. I could see why as my eyes fell on fragile vases, ceramic cats, and candy dishes. There were also posters of old and new movies, baseball cards in shallow glass cases, a few road signs, and a couple of antique metal farm toys. To the right of the entrance and against the wall was a long cloth couch with plush cushions.

  "This is a-um, an interesting office you have," I told him.

  He directed me to a large wood desk at the rear of the room. Two chairs sat on opposites sides of the desk, and I took the one in front of the of the furniture. He took the comfy swivel chair on the other side where he sat down and clasped his hands together. A smile adorned his Adonis-like face. "I admit it is a little strange. Less like an office and more like-"

  "-an attic?" I guessed.

  He chuckled. "More eclectic, but I suppose there are some strange things in here. But let's focus on the task at hand, your resume." He lifted my resume at an angle and read over the contents. "It seems you don't have any personal experience with secretarial work."

  "No, but I did master in English," I pointed out.

  He lifted his eyes from the paper and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "While that is useful, I fail to see your full point."

  "I got a B.A. in BS doing that major. I can type out bullshit with the best of them. If you need a letter sweet enough to give somebody a cavity or mean enough to make them cry then I'm your girl," I quipped.

  He set the paper on the desk and allowed his eyes to sweep over my upper body. I blushed under his intense gaze and looked at my suddenly interesting lap. "You hardly seem the type to be anyone's girl. I would rather think you are very much a woman."

  "I-I don't know about that," I stuttered. My body was lit aflame by his sweet, tempting words. I tried to quench the fire by pressing my thighs together, but that couldn't stop that accursed blush from rising to my cheeks.

  "I'm sure your boyfriend tells you that often," he mused.