Scrooge McFuck (Some Girls Do It #2) Read online

  Fuck.

  “Very well, sir,” was her reply, and she even managed a following smile, just because she knew it annoyed him.

  She considered spitting in his next coffee, and the thought cheered her up. There always was that option.

  “Anything else I can do for you?”

  Strangulation, asphyxiation, maiming. There was a wide range of things she was all but ready to perform on him.

  Scrooge McFuck pushed his rudeness to an all-time high, dismissing her with a wave of his hand before turning his back on her, and stalking away. And damn him to all hells for this, but she totally looked at his catwalk. Those dress pants fit his ass in a way that should be illegal, making her want to take a bite. Or spank it.

  She stifled a laugh, and awkwardly disguised as a cough when he turned around, but she couldn't help it, imagining herself wrapped in something shiny and black, a flogger in her hand. It wasn’t her thing, but for him? She’d make an exception. Or ten.

  She returned to her desk to grab a coat, and rolled her eyes at the humongous pile of work he’d thrown at her, wonderingly daydreaming about the joys of unemployment. Sure, she’d be kicked out of her flat within three months, then Maya and she were going to either end up on the street or have to beg her parents for help, but hey, on the plus side, there would be no McFuck in her life.

  All in all, she couldn’t pick which option was more appealing.

  “Nine months,” she whispered to herself.

  According to her calculations, in nine months she’d have enough money saved to comfortably accept a position paying less, somewhere else - anywhere else.

  “Are you pregnant?”

  The question was almost spat out.

  She lifted her head to find her boss hunched over her desk – damn him for his stealthy approach, she hadn’t heard a step!

  “Weren't you supposed to go out?” She found herself blurting out, her tone perhaps lacking professionalism, but he’d surprised her.

  He didn't pay any attention to it, too taken by his fantasy world.

  “Because you’d need to notify me immediately. I’ll need to find a suitable replacement right away.”

  Never mind the flogger, she wanted to spank him with her bare hands and feel him tremble under her palms.

  Trust the jerk to immediately assume that women couldn’t possibly think of anything else than pregnancy when they talked about nine months.

  “No,” she replied stiffly, unadorned, somehow managing not to add, not that it would be any of your business, dick.

  “Besides, the company has a wonderful policy for pregnant women. While you would certainly need to replace me, would that be the case, it would be temporarily.”

  She dared him to contradict her. Parents who took leave were offered their position back according to company policy; if he said otherwise now, she was definitely going to spit in his damn coffee.

  “I’d still need to know, Ms. Stone,” he insisted, narrowing his eyes.

  “And let me assure you, I’ll notify you if I ever intend to take a maternity leave.” Again, she didn’t add.

  He was still staring at her, but he took a step back, mistrusting as he added, “I don’t know what Reginald is doing with the Tokyo deal. It should have been on my desk days ago, and there’s no word of an agreement. I’ve schedule a video conference.”

  She nodded, wondering why he bothered to tell her; conferences with Japan happened after hours. When she wasn’t working.

  “You’ll stay to take minutes.”

  Somehow, she didn’t growl; it wasn’t like she was all that astonished.

  “No.”

  The man surprised her this time; instead of exploding, like she’d imagined he might, he laughed. He fucking laughed, like her refusal was somehow amusing. His expression seemed to say aren’t you cute, thinking you can refuse me.

  “You’ll stay,” he added, lips pulled over his white teeth for the second time today. “For a rate of ten times your usual overtime, Ms. Stone.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it, calling him every name under the sun in her mind. Damn him but she didn’t have a choice – from what she’d known of his previous calls with Reginald, they lasted around five hours – he was basically going to pay her one week of work, and she needed it.

  “That’s an awful lot of Louboutin shoes,” he smirked.

  Someday, she really was going to slap his smug grin. Of course, she wore Louboutins; she was the executive assistant of the CEO of a multibillion dollar investment firm – she didn’t have a choice. Or rather, there was a large panel of brands she could have picked, but Louboutin had been the cheapest.

  The expense of her new work wardrobe had completely wiped her account, and she wouldn’t have managed it if the HR department hadn’t authorized an advance on her salary, but she’d needed it for the job. They both knew what McFuck would have said if she’d turned up to his lobby in business casual.

  The first month before her salary hit had been full of mac and cheese and other cheap meals. Worth it though. Now, she and her girl were out of the woods, miles above poverty line. It was all worth it for Maya.

  As it wasn’t penciled into her budget, the extra pay would mean an amazing Christmas present for her girl, and also some spare cash to put away - or maybe even a trip somewhere. Maya and her both longed to see the North Pole - Maya, in the hope of catching a glimpse of Santa, and she, to see the Northern Lights. They could go on her “next arranged paid leave.”

  She had to say yes and Scrooge McFuck knew it.

  Bennet

  He had to admit it, to himself at least; he was ridiculously smug about the fact that Piper had caved when he’d mentioned giving her some extra money; it showed that the perfect Ms. Stone was just like the rest of them; interested in the bottom line.

  When he got to his desk, though, Ben stopped, trying to make sense of it. Because she shouldn’t be so easily motivated by a couple thousand dollars. It didn’t compute with the rest of the information he had about her.

  Piper Stone, in his mind, had a large allowance from her father, a cushy flat in town, like all the socialites he knew, and she worked only to occupy herself until she’d snagged a husband; she’d probably opted to work in an affluent investment firm to try to meet suitably rich guys amongst his clients. Women like her weren’t after overtime, normally. It was too much like hard work.

  He dismissed his thought; maybe she’d spent more than she ought to on clothes or make up. She might also be paying off the impressive rack she tucked under her stripped suit jackets; there was no way a girl as slim as her could naturally have been blessed with assets like that. They were store bought, he would have bet a million on it without hesitation.

  Ben found himself quite uncomfortable, like every time he was forced to acknowledge Piper Stone’s appearance. Damn her, but his assistant was hot. He didn’t often allow himself to look past her green eyes, but when he did, he always frowned, displeased. Assistants shouldn’t look like that; those who did were the reason why so many men ended up requesting blow jobs in the copy room.

  Piper was nothing like Jennifer, or Miriam for that matter. Her figure wasn’t the eerie, slender, model-worthy frame that always looked so good on his arm; she was of average height, and… womanly. Her curves formed a perfect hourglass; curved hips, generous bust, and a slim waist in between. That was the kind of body a man couldn’t help picturing covered in red silk…

  That just wouldn’t do. Back in the day, Ben had played around, but he was in a relationship, and that was that. Contrary to most of his friends and acquaintances, he was entirely monogamous – his father, in all his bossiness, had taught him to give nothing less to the women he chose to spend his time with. If he strayed, how could he expect his partner to respect and stay faithful to him?

  Yet, every day since she’d waltzed into his office, he’d had to look at Piper Stone, and admit - at least to himself - that he was salivating over those fantastic curves. He wouldn�
�t, but he’d love to get his hands on those.

  What did that say about him? He was pretty sure his father never thought anything of the sort involving anyone except his mother, hence why the McFinnley seniors were still together, still ridiculously content, after four decades of marriage.

  He wanted that. He wanted to go home after his long hours of work, and have a woman who’d listen to him, and cared for him. He had picked one, and that meant that he had no business longingly staring at Piper’s ass when she bent over to pick up her pen.

  Ben bit his knuckles, and forcefully turned around, willing himself to look away, walk away. But just then, when he was almost ready to do so, the damn woman tripped on her heels, and fell ungracefully, forcing him to grin and think of her in terms that shouldn’t enter his mind. Such as adorable.

  It wasn’t of his own volition that he moved, walking towards her, and offering his hand.

  She stared at it confused, distrustful, but after a beat, she took it and used him to get back up on her feet.

  Awkward. The only way to describe the whole thing was awkward - infinitely so…because he didn’t let her hand go, not immediately. It wasn’t his fault. She felt…soft. Very much so. And they’d never been in such close proximity before, so it was the first time he got a proper whiff of her enticing scent; probably something called Seducing a Billionaire 101.

  Dammit.

  It took a while, but he forced his eyes away from hers eventually.

  “Don’t forget: coffee at four,” he barked, storming out.

  He knew he treated her poorly – perhaps even worse than any of his previous employees – but the woman didn’t seem to take it to heart, and it helped keep the distance he needed, so he didn’t intend to stop a recipe that worked.

  “And how is dear Piper, sweetheart?”

  “Dammit!” he cursed out loud, throwing his fork on the table, aware that he was acting like a child having a tantrum. “Enough about Piper already. She’s an employee - nothing more.”

  His parents always enquired about her, even though both of them seemed to forget Jennifer’s name from one meeting to the next.

  “She’s a family friend,” his mother replied sharply, her tone making it clear that she was done taking rudeness from him.

  She knew just how to look and speak to keep him in check; seeing her amber eyes, so similar to his, flash with something intimidating, he knew he’d hit the limit of her indulgence. In a minute, if he didn’t behave, she’d kick him out before dessert, or invent an equally brutal punishment.

  He’d most definitely taken after his mother.

  “And a very lovely one at that,” she added.

  Ben sighed. His parents hadn’t said as much - not yet, in any case - but he suspected that neither of them would be against a Stone-McFinnley alliance. Never mind that they were perfectly aware that he had a Jennifer Smith waiting for him at home.

  Well, not literally. He hadn’t moved her in; they’d only dated exclusively for three months. Even meeting the parents, and speaking in serious terms was premature, but he was ready for something solid, durable, so it hadn’t stopped him.

  Ben had been ready for a long time, in all honesty.

  “She’s fine. Not very fond of overtime.”

  “Well, I’d understand, given her circumstances,” Wendy McFinnley replied mysteriously - and seeing her smile, he knew she was doing it on purpose, to intrigue him. To interest him.

  Damn his mother - the matchmaking fiend. Because despite himself, Ben wanted to know what she was on about.

  He resisted - with difficulty.

  Never mind that all night that Saturday, instead of relishing in the company of his lively girlfriend, dressed in a golden sheath, he asked himself about Piper’s “circumstances.”

  Mother - one, son - zero.

  Piper

  Damn him. Damn him to all hell and back, for making her feel that way.

  It had been a simple touch, a simple look; something that could have been innocent – but it wasn’t and she hated him for it. The way he’d lingered, his fingers brushing hers, had made her feel all kinds of wrong. It had awakened things she didn’t think she’d ever feel again, deep rooted needs in her groin, so strong it was making her believe that she might die if the ache didn’t go away.

  Fuckity fuck, she had to get a hold of herself. McFuck was a dick and a half. He was her boss. He had a girlfriend. Dammit, what had she been thinking, gazing into his eyes open mouthed when she knew he was taken? That made her a Jezebel. Shame on him, on her, and on them both. But mainly, on him. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

  She could have taken a step back and retracted her hand. Dammit.

  The rest of the day was rather uneventful; she might be wrong, but she thought Bennet purposefully avoided looking her way. He told her to leave the archives in favor of some pressing issues, and she thanked her lucky stars for whatever hiccup he’d encountered. They worked in their respective rooms, in silence, punctuated by the occasional instant message requesting a folder or a coffee. At six, she called for some takeout at his request- Thai; a rare treat. It almost made up for the long, dull video conference she suffered through, dutifully taking the short notes he’d requested.

  “Thank you for your time, Ms. Stone,” he finally said, and she practically flew out of doors before he changed his mind.

  Piper ran all the way from the station to her flat, grimacing as she always did when she took in the exterior of the building.

  She’d made a home within the concrete walls but outside, it was nothing short of a dump. Literally; her neighbors saw no problem littering the floor with cans, and suspicious syringes. Needless to say, there was no security anywhere.

  God, she needed out of that hellhole like she needed air. Not only for her own safety, but for her girl’s, too.

  “Next month,” she promised to herself.

  She’d have the money for a move then.

  “Mommy!”

  All her weariness disappeared when she got in, to be greeted by hugs and kisses.

  She eventually looked up from Maya to look at the sophisticated woman leaning against the kitchen door.

  “I owe you, big time.”

  “Nonsense,” Lucinda Warner replied, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. “I got to spend time with my favorite goddaughter, and you got to keep a job you despise.”

  Lucy held her gaze, conveying everything she wouldn’t say in front of her daughter.

  “It pays the bills, Lucy.”

  “Amen to that. But you should totally come work for Harris Toys, dude.”

  They’d had that argument a handful of times at least; Lucy didn’t get why she wouldn’t – couldn’t – accept her offer to set her up.

  They were friends; good friends. The best, in fact. But they were both extremely opinionated and over the last two decades, they’d argued five times – each instance had turned their classroom into a war zone led by two Queen Bees. And juvenile as it sounded, it had happened their last year of college, too.

  Lucy had been as firm as her parents in her disapproval of her husband, and their argument had created a humongous rift between just about everyone in the entire school. They had been those girls. In a way, they still were. Lucy ruled by fear at Harris Toys, and although Piper had a different way of handling things, she had the affection and support of just about anyone at McFinnley Investments. Putting two women of that sort in the same company was madness, regardless of how close they were.

  Unlike her parents, Lucy had gotten in touch with Piper six months after their fall out, and made her swear she’d get to say I told you so when everything went up in flames. In the meantime, she’d informed her that she was more than ready to humbly accept the role of godmother to her spawn.

  Piper couldn’t be more thankful, especially since Lucy, to her credit, hadn’t even gloated about John’ disappearance. Yet. She was probably just waiting until Piper got her
shit together to rub it in her face.

  That being said, the last thing she wanted was to turn their workplace into a rendition of “Mean Girls”, so Harris Toys was the one company she most definitely wouldn’t work for.

  Piper decided to switch gears, asking, “You’re still an executive assistant? I mean, nothing wrong with that, but you did finish your MBA. You could get another job.”

  It had been a matter she’d pondered upon a few times, and as she knew her best friend well, she’d come to a conclusion that was more than likely on point; but if it saved her from another lecture, she was happy to pretend to be in the dark about her intentions.

  Lucy sighed, and said exactly what Piper had guessed: “I could, but I’m good with people. I like to work on them. Carter Harris would move me to his business team if I asked - and I’d hate it there. Being his assistant is…interesting.”

  Then, Lucy’s sharp green gaze fell on her, and she shook her head.

  “Which you knew. No need to try to deflect; you’re off the hook anyway. I don’t have time to argue with you today.”

  “Oh?”

  It sounded intriguing; Lucy always had time to let out some steam. She had natural red hair, and the temper to match, although she did hide it well when she wanted to.

  Until she exploded.

  “I have a date,” she said, with a mischievous smile.

  Piper glanced at the time, and felt guilty as hell - it was past ten already; the phone call between McFuck and his minion hadn’t lasted as long as it could have, but she’d taken up a lot of her friend’s evening.

  “And don’t give me that look - it’s not that kind of a date,” she added before giving her the chance to apologize. “I have a date with a set of copied keys, powder laxatives that look like sugar, and transparent hair dye to add to some shampoo.”

  Most people might have been surprised, but as it came from Lucinda Warner, Piper just shook her head.

  “I’m not sure I want to know who your victim is. I might be held accountable as an accomplice.”