Claimed by the Billionaire: Seduction #1 Read online

  Claimed by the Billionaire

  #1

  Seduction

  Danielle Jamesen

  Copyright © 2014 by Danielle Jamesen. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form without the prior written consent of the author.

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, incidents and events are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 1

  I watched with a sickening swoop in my stomach as the first pile of dirt went onto my husband’s coffin. It was though each pile of dirt that fell on the coffin fell on me too and I was slowly being buried alive. It was all I could do not to break free of my father’s hold and leap in after him, to be buried with him. But no, I chided myself, I had my son to think about.

  My son. I glanced down at him now. His ten year old frame was shaking quietly as he cried into my dress. I played with his chestnut brown hair gingerly with my fingertips. My poor son. Too old to be told the lie “Daddy is going away for a while” but too young to understand what death truly meant.

  My husband. I would now be a widow, I assumed. That was the correct term of things. Serena the widow is what I’d be labeled among social circles who were being kind. Serena the widow who lost everything, among my family. And Serena with the dead husband and no money to speak of, among my old enemies.

  I glanced at my father. His skin seemed stretched taunt, bags heavy under his eyes, his suit smelling of cigarette smoke since he had fallen back into the habit. It was my entire family who had lost everything, I thought, not just me. My father had lost his entire empire, my husband had then lost his job at my father’s company and I had lost my trust fund and my son had lost his college fund.

  I tried to pin point where my father had gone wrong with his business. They had been well off. He had invested in real estate from a young age, riding the bubble up, up, up and spending as though that bubble would never pop. I had had the best of everything as a child and my husband had sold high end properties for my father. Business estates, home estates, all of it had been theirs to sell and rent out. I had met my husband at one of my father’s special meetings for the company and we were head over heels in love soon after. My son I had had first, when I was twenty, with a shot gun marriage soon to follow. But I had loved my husband and the eleven years I had with him.

  I had turned thirty when the real estate bubble popped and the national recession hit. Business stopped. No one was buying and everyone was selling. Neither myself, nor my father, nor my husband had saved up anything, thinking the good fortune would last forever. My father had lost everything and had to shut the business down. My husband had lost everything too and the resulting heart attack from finding out they were poor was too much for him.

  So now here I was, at my husband’s funeral, with my son clutching to me on one side and my father clutching me on the other. I stared as the dirt rose on my husband’s coffin. I knew everything was changing and nothing would be the same again.

  ***

  I finished taping up one box while my best friend, Cathy, closed up another. I was moving, needing to sell the house (for half the price of what it normally would have gotten) and move into a two bedroom apartment to cut costs down. I exhaled heavily as Cathy looked up.

  “So, should I tell my friend you want an interview?”

  Cathy had been talking at length about one of her friends who worked at a high end business in town, who was now moving and needed to fill her place. I had listened to her describe the position which basically sounded like a personal assistant position to the rich owner and how they needed someone ASAP.

  “It really doesn’t sound like my usual thing.”

  Cathy waved her hand, “Listen, it’ll pay better than anything you are planning on looking into.”

  “But being someone’s personal assistant? Aren’t I just running coffee or something?”

  “Does it matter? The money is good, more than you’ll need to pay rent on your new place as well as take care of anything Greg needs.”

  At my son’s name, I sighed, knowing Cathy was right, “What does this guy do anyway?”

  “He’s loaded,” I wished Cathy would stop talking about how rich this guy was, “He created some…I don’t know, some app for smart phones or tablets or something? It’s such an early market right now and he has a huge piece of the pie. His company designs them as well as controls the business side of it.”

  “I don’t know anything about apps.” I said warily.

  Cathy shrugged, “It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s a personal assistant positon.”

  I sighed and agreed.

  I was instantly having second thoughts standing outside the building that was featured downtown. The 20 story glass building I had thought always housed various businesses actually held just the one I was going in for the job interview for. I couldn’t imagine rent on this building was cheap.

  After Cathy had left, I had Googled the business. Cathy had been wrong on some fronts — the business wasn’t just an app related one. The owner, Mr. Bradley Gable, created a processing chip that was used in most smart phones today on top of all the apps he had created. Mr. Gable was the epitome of rich, having hit billionaire status. I knew I had only gotten this interview due to Cathy’s friend, because this had to be a coveted position and my experience was all real estate based.

  I took a deep breath and walked through the double doors. There was a fountain in the lobby, marble flooring, and a soft lighted waiting room. I was expecting to see the other applicants there but it was empty. There was a large desk with a prim looking woman behind it, typing away quickly on her computer. My heels sounded like gun shots as I timidly walked across the floor towards the desk.

  “Uhm, excuse me?” I said, feeling stupid.

  The woman didn’t stop typing but looked up at me, “Yes?”

  “I have an interview,” I said but the woman didn’t say anything back and I stumbled on, “For a position with Mr. Gable.”

  The woman looked at me closer, “This is his company.”

  I wanted to crawl a hole and vanish at this point but I kept going, “Yes, I know. It’s for an assistant position.”

  “Oh!” The woman said, as though now everything made sense, “You have to go directly to the top floor. What is your name?” She finally stopped typing and picked up the phone on her desk.

  “Serena Warden.”

  The woman hit three numbers on the key pad, paused and then spoke, “Serena Warden will be coming up to the top floor for her interview,” Another pause, “Yes, thank you,” She hung up and looked back at me, “You can take the elevator to the top floor, miss.”

  The woman nodded at me and then looked back down at her computer, resuming her rapid fire pace. I took this as the conversation was now over and I walked towards the elevator, feeling more and more nervous. There was no music on the elevator and it felt a bit jarring to me. My thoughts swirled together — why was I so nervous? Mostly because my job interviews basically were zero, having worked for my father for so long. And to work for someone so rich while I was now poor…

  The elevator doors opened soundlessly and I stepped into a small waiting room. Now this was filled with applicants, finely dressed woman in designer clothing. I looked down at my own clothes, which was designer(Chanel), but about three se
asons old due to my financial situation. I was sure these woman could tell that in a heartbeat —

  And why were only woman here anyway? Was this the 1950s, where only woman could be “personal assistants”? I hoped Mr. Gable wasn’t looking for something more than that. I tried to stand taller and went over to the woman behind the desk.

  “Hi, I’m Serena Warden —“

  The woman waved her hand, “Yes, yes, Cathy’s friend. Have a seat over there.” And she pointed to a full couch.

  I walked over to the couch and stood awkwardly near it. The woman were all chatting and I realized they all must have known each other from the inner circles. It dawned on me that I would not get this job. I had only gotten the interview due to Cathy, probably begging for it. I felt grateful for Cathy looking out for me and trying to get me such a great position but I wished it had been something more in my element…or dare say, closer to the bottom?

  The crowd petered out slowly. Cathy’s friend, Janine, was doing the interviews. She spent roughly 30 minutes with each girl and each girl left, confidently strolling out and smiling at the waiting girls as though she knew none of them would get hired. By the time I was called, I had worked myself up into a frenzied mess, trying to tell myself that this didn’t matter. I’d get it over with and then tell Cathy to please keep her eyes open for something that wasn’t so out of my reach.

  I walked into the office of Mr. Gable. It was the size of my new apartment, I noted, with a sleek, massive desk in the middle, windows all along the back that over looked the city, and what looked to be like a living room on one side with a large, flat screen TV. On the other side was a kitchen. It was as though he lived here! I saw another room near the back and could only imagine what was in there too — a bedroom? Janine walked over to the living room and sat down on the leather couch, a clip board in front of her, her Mylar red nails shining from the sun coming in. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, making her features look severe. Janine started talking in a clipped, matter of fact voice about what the company did, which I already knew, and what Mr. Gable was looking for.

  “I organized all his meetings,” She was saying, “I went through all his e-mails, replied to the ones that weren’t important, sent him the ones that would. I handled all his calls, relaying the important ones to him. You are a filter. You make sure nothing that does not need to get to him gets to him. You take care of any media phone calls and requests. You organize any events he has to go to. You are the point person. No one gets to Mr. Gable without you authorizing it.”

  I nodded and said, “Okay.” My voice sounded flat and lifeless.

  Janine paused, as if noting that it sounded so, eyed me and kept going, “This is an important position, Mrs. Warden.”

  I nodded again, “Yes, it sounds so.”

  Janine looked at me again, “Do you have any questions?”

  “No…I don’t think so.”

  Janine stood up, “That will be all I think.”

  That will be all? It could not be all! I hadn’t even been in here for five minutes! I thought of walking past the girls after everyone else had been in here for at least thirty minutes and felt desperate.

  “I, uhm —“I started, fumbling.

  “Janine, is that any way to cut off an interview with someone as interesting as Mrs. Warden? She and her family were the kings of real estate.” A voice said suddenly.

  Janine and I both turned our heads as a man came out of the room in the back. I recognized him from Google — it was Mr. Gable himself. He was wearing a tailored suit that fit him perfectly, his handsome features looking a bit sleepy, his tie undone and his brown hair a little messy. He did not look as professional as I had seen on the internet but my stomach swooped a little bit. He was even more handsome in person.

  “Mr. Gable?” Janine said, questioning.

  He walked over to them and held his hand out to me, “You don’t recognize her? Her family owed every house and building in this city.”

  As if on auto-play, I shook his hand firmly and said to him, “Use to, Mr. Gable. Not so much anymore.”

  He smiled, his perfect white teeth almost blinding me, “Your father sold me my first house over ten years ago.”

  I was surprised, “Truly?” I said.

  “Truly. I will never forget it.”

  “I don’t want to be hired because my father sold you a house ten years ago. I don’t want to be hired out of pity.”

  I knew I had surprised Janine, who looked as though she had been slapped, and Mr. Gable, who now had a bemused expression on his face, but I had surprised myself too. I had been out right rude at this point but brutally honest. I couldn’t stand the pitying way he was looking at me, as though he knew everything I’d had gone through and felt sorry for me. I didn’t want to see that look every day if he hired me.

  His smile only brightened and he said, “Of course.”

  I picked up my purse, “You were showing me the way out, Janine, I believe? I can find it myself, thank you.”

  And I nodded at Janine, and again at Mr. Gable and walked my way out of his office, knowing I had blown the interview and wondering where I would look for work next.

  Chapter 2

  Trying to get Greg to focus on his math homework was impossible and I felt as though I would have more success fighting a hyena with my bare hands.

  “This is stupid!” He exclaimed for roughly the billionth time as he tapped his pencil against his paper.

  I looked up from chopping onions needed for my pasta sauce for dinner and sighed, “Greg. You are going to sit there until it is done. You know how to do it, what is the problem?”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Stop. Get to work. I don’t want to revoke your TV privileges.”

  Greg muttered under his breath as he started working on the next problem. Trying to get that kid to focus was impossible but I didn’t want to put him on medication. I had been trying out relaxing herbal teas first. Cathy thought I was nuts (“Just put him on meds!”) but I had been on medication after I had lost my husband and hated how tired and dragged down I felt on them. Greg was only ten, way too young for that sort of thing.

  Lost in thought, I didn’t realize my cell phone was going off until Greg huffed loudly, claiming it was ruining his concentration. It wasn’t a number I knew.

  “Hello, Serena Warden speaking.”

  “Serena? It’s Janine.”

  “Oh, hello —“

  Janine cut me off, “Listen, we’re offering you the position here.”

  I stopped short, “What?”

  “We’re offering you the position here.” Janine said slower, as though she was talking to someone very dim.

  “I don’t understand.” I said bluntly.

  “The choice was taken out of my hands,” Janine said, “Are you taking it or not?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Mr. Gable must have requested me personally.

  I paused and then spoke, “I told Mr. Gable that I am not —“

  “Mr. Gable requested I tell you that he is not hiring you out of ‘pity’ but because he thinks you would be good at the job.” Janine sounded as though she couldn’t disagree more with the words coming out of her mouth.

  “I’ll take it.” I said.

  ***

  “I move in a week,” Janine was saying, “So I can train you for then but after that, you’re on your own.”

  “Okay.” I said.

  “We’ll run through the basics, but I’m working half days this week as well. So after one pm, you’re on your own.” Her tone did not invite the notion of calling with questions after one pm.

  “Okay.” I said, although I didn’t think Janine was listening.

  “This is your desk, obviously. Like I said in the interview, you’re the point person but don’t think that means you can bother Mr. Gable whenever you want. He likes his privacy and doesn’t want to be bothered.”

  “Of course.”

  “Sit down he
re at the computer and I’ll run you through some things.”

  Janine’s idea of running through things was going at them at a rapid fire pace. It was clear she didn’t like me. I just wasn’t sure why. I could only guess Janine wanted one of the other, more qualified woman in the job but instead it had been me. She probably didn’t like after working here for so long she didn’t even get to pick her successor. And it wasn’t as though she could take it out on Mr. Gable. No, so I would have to do. I tried to keep notes the best I could but by eleven am I was cursing myself for agreeing to the position out of a piqued interest in why Mr. Gable had requested me.

  At two pm promptly, Janine stood up, taking her purse.

  “I’m leaving for the day. You can managed until 5, right?”

  “Sure.” I said, not meaning it.

  “It should be a quiet afternoon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  With a flip of her sleek ponytail, Janine walked towards the elevator, not looking back. After the elevator doors shut, I was hit with how quiet it was up here. Mr. Gable hadn’t come out of his office once. I spent time on the computer, trying to learn where Janine had organized everything. At three pm, the phone suddenly rang on the desk, coming to life in such a manner that I was sure it had woken up the world.

  “I need to talk to Mr. Gable.” Came a woman’s voice, slightly high pitched and sounding annoyed.

  How had she gotten through to his direct line? The phone number we have out went to the desk on the first floor and was redirected from there. But the lady downstairs hadn’t buzzed through to her telling her someone was on the line. This lady could get through directly. She must be important but Janine had said to screen all calls —

  “Hello?” She snapped.

  “Uhm, ma’am, can you please tell me the nature of your call? Mr. Gable is in a meeting right now —“

  “No, he isn’t,” The woman snapped again, getting more and more irate and I found myself getting flustered, “Just transfer me already.”

  I panicked and transferred the call, patching it through directly. It had to have been important, she had had the direct line, right? I heard the phone ring three times in Mr. Gable’s office and then he picked up. I couldn’t hear him but I stared at my computer screen, hoping against hope that I hadn’t made a mistake and berating myself for getting flustered off of one annoyed woman. What a fool! Of course now everything Janine told me was coming back to me. I wanted to just get up and quit now but it was as though my feet were made out of cement.