Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales #1)(2)

But Maggie—she was different.

Yeah, she was gorgeous, but he was fairly certain she didn’t have a clue. And when she smiled, sometimes she scrunched up her face, and those three little freckles across her nose danced. Her long, wavy brown hair and blue eyes—so dark they were more smoky gray than blue, really—haunted him when he was in bed alone.

Not that he’d noticed.

There was just something about her he couldn’t explain. He’d give anything to have her turn one of those bright smiles on him—preferably while naked and screaming out his name—but she was his employee, and he was her boss, and such things weren’t allowed in his office.

Yet another reason he was the Beast of Gale.

He had a strict policy against dating in the office. It was necessary if he wanted his employees to focus on their work and not each other.

But with Maggie, it might be worth—

Tugging on his tie again, he stood, walked over to his minibar, poured himself a shot of Macallan, and downed it. He needed to stop that train of thought before it even left the station. Fucking around with Maggie wasn’t something his father would have ever done. It wouldn’t get the investors his mother had in her pocket off his back, either. Ever since she’d received her cut of the company shares, she’d been a…nuisance, to say the least.

And at this point in the fight to retain control as CEO, he couldn’t afford to f*ck up over a pretty face and a sexy smile. After he poured another drink, he walked to the window, staring down at the dark city from ten stories up. Cars honked, sirens screeched, and steam rose from the subway. A couple fought at the corner of Fifty-eighth and Lexington, and across the street, another couple kissed.

The energy from watching all the lives that intertwined and intersected made him feel…alive. Even though he wasn’t the one out there actually living, he loved it anyway. All those people down there were so free. So original. So impulsively thriving.

Everything he could never be.

His phone rang, tearing him from his thoughts, and he crossed the room to pick it up. “Gale.”

“It’s Carl. Carl Forbes.”

Benjamin sank into his desk chair and rolled his eyes at the formal greeting. His father’s old work crony was nothing if not old-fashioned. “Hey, I was just watching out the window, checking to see if I could spot that ugly old yellow Jag of yours coming down the road yet. You’re late, old man.”

Carl chuckled. “You wouldn’t recognize beauty if it punched you in the face, son.”

Oh, but he did. One of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen sat outside his office, working on a Friday night, probably cursing his name with every breath. He’d rather make her out of breath for better reasons. “I beg to differ, sir.”

“Well, regardless, you won’t be seeing it. I have to cancel. My knee’s giving me trouble, and it’s supposed to be icy tonight. The old lady won’t let me leave.”

He sighed. There went his “exciting” Friday night plans. Not that they’d been much to write home about, since his plans had been eating in the office with a sixty-five-year-old man, and then returning to work. “I completely understand, Carl.”

After they rescheduled and exchanged a few more words, Benjamin hung up. No sooner had he set the phone down than he heard voices outside his door again, this time Maggie and his butler. Sighing, he moved his empty glass to the bar.

The door opened, and William carried in a tray with three covered plates, an open carafe of wine he’d never finish on his own, and two glasses. “Good evening, sir.”

“Wow, that was quick, Willie. Might be a new record.” He checked his Rolex. “Five minutes?”

William cracked a smile at the nickname he “despised,” and set the tray on the table by the window. “Last week we made it down here in under four and a half—but that was only with one meal.”

“Impressive,” he drawled, grinning as he rolled up his shirtsleeves. Willie was the only person he truly relaxed around. “Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” Willie straightened and smoothed his gray, balding hair. “Shall I send for whomever this third dinner is for?”

“Oh. No. I’ve got it.” He stopped mid-roll. “I’ll tell her myself.”

William bowed, but his eyes lit up at the mention of a female. “Very well, sir. I’ll see you when you come up.”

“Thanks,” Benjamin said, smiling at the old man, who’d been there for him since the moment he’d taken his first breath. “Don’t wait up. It’ll be another late night.”

“Very well, sir.”

After the butler left, he straightened the table, picked up one of the plates, and made it halfway across the office before he froze. He had all this wine, and all this food. Why not invite her to eat with him? Sure, it might not be proper, from a boss-employee perspective, but no one would find out.

It wasn’t as if he was going to f*ck her over his desk, no matter how much he might wish he could. And it was Friday night. It seemed such a damn shame to waste the bread and wine. Despite what everyone said, he wasn’t a beast, and he did like Maggie. He wasn’t heartless. He was motivated.

Back before his father had died, Benjamin had lived hard, partied harder, and laughed loudly. Now, he tried to pretend that version of him never existed, and he did his damnedest to be the man he should have been back then. Sometimes it felt as if that younger Benjamin had died, leaving a stranger in his place.