Just This Once: A Billionaire Boss Romance

“I got an interview!” I thrust my hands in the air in celebration as I stand up, my desk chair shooting out behind me.

I glance around nervously, trying to judge if anyone heard me. Probably not the best idea to be shouting about a new interview at my current job.

I sit back down and read the email again for a third time.

“Oh my God, I got an interview,” I repeat in disbelief.

When I applied for the open Chief Operations Officer position at Baxley Technologies, I truly didn’t expect a call back. Not to say I’m not qualified for the job; I feel I am, but most companies want to see at least fifteen years on your resume before they even consider you for the COO role.

I close my office door and grab my cell to call my best friend Callie.

“Hey, this is a lov—”

“I got an interview,” I blurt out, cutting her off.

“An interview for—oh, for Baxley?”

“Yes!” I’m attempting to whisper but with my excitement it’s coming out more in a whispered shout. “I’m in complete disbelief, like me? Seriously?”

“Of course you, why not you? First of all, you’re very qualified. Your insane work experience in just six years speaks for itself, not to mention the MBA and undergrad from an Ivy League school, both of which you got into on merit and not because your family had money.”

“I know. It’s just that I don’t want to get my hopes up if they’re not serious about me.”

“These are billionaires, sweetie. They wouldn’t waste their precious time if they weren’t serious about you. Now stop doubting yourself and get ready to go out and celebrate tonight. Think about where you wanna meet for drinks.”

I smile into the receiver. If there’s one person who will always have my back and gas me up, it’s Callie. She’s been my ride or die since the day we met freshman year at Northwestern. I didn’t think she’d associate with me at all. She comes from a very wealthy family, old money, from the North Shore and I… well, I’m an only child, that I know of, raised by my grandma after my mom went to prison and my dad abandoned me.

I put my phone on my desk and turn back to my computer to finish up my workday. I feel too giddy to focus, but if this interview does actually turn into a new career opportunity, I don’t want to leave this startup I’ve been at for the last three years high and dry. I need to finish up a few projects before I officially leave this place.

I knew from a young age I wanted a career, a big one. I busted my ass in high school, opting for any and every extracurricular and after-school program, even summer school. I graduated early with honors and was accepted into Northwestern University with a focus on business and finance.

Even through high school and college I worked any and every odd job I could find that would pay my bills and give me experience. I started in fast food, working my way up to a management position and then the corporate office that happened to be located in Chicago where I lived. Even through getting my MBA, I continued to move up the ladder until I was brought on as a project manager and financial advisor here at this software startup. In only three years we’ve grown from nothing to a multimillion-dollar company that’s in the final stages of IPO.

I was determined to break the cycle of failure in my family if it was the last thing I did. Sometimes I still struggle with imposter syndrome when I look in the mirror. Like who is this girl who came from nothing and why does she deserve this opportunity?

I shake the thoughts from my head and power through the rest of my day before sending a text to Callie.

Me: Leaving here in the next twenty. Mitzy’s for martinis?

Thirty minutes later I take the first celebratory sip of my dirty martini.

“Will Todd be surprised when you put in your notice?”

“If I ge—”

“When,” Callie says emphatically with an arched brow.

“When,” I start over, “I get the job, I think Todd will be sad to see me go for sure, but I think he knew from the get-go that I didn’t plan to stay long term. I think when you jump in at the ground floor of a startup, it’s a much quicker burnout period than other jobs, you know?”

She nods and takes a sip of her French martini, her eyes rolling back in her head for a brief second. “Yeah, for sure. You have literally put blood, sweat, and tears into that place. I hope he knows what he has with you.”

“He does. He’s always been extremely generous with pay, but as we all know, there’s zero work-life balance when it comes to a startup. I’m only twenty-seven and I already feel like between school and all my jobs over the years, I’ve never had a chance to just breathe, enjoy life, and take some downtime.”

I do feel a little guilty wanting to move on from Code Red Software, but I’m beyond excited that I even get the chance to interview at a tech giant like Baxley Technologies.

I swallow down the fear in my throat as I stare up at the massive mirrored building on Franklin St.

I close my eyes for a brief second and take in a deep breath. “You’ve got this. You deserve this. You’re going to nail it.”

I square my shoulders back, lift my chin up, and march up to the massive revolving door emblazoned with the world-famous gold BT symbol.

“Please have a seat, Miss Monroe.”

I take a seat in front of a large table where six other people are sitting across from me. “I’m Pierce Denton, Executive Vice President here at Baxley.” The rest of the individuals follow suit with their name and title.

Round table style interviews are nothing new to me. I had to do them for my MBA program and when I came onboard with Code Red, but this one is intimidating. Not only is it filled with department heads, but the collective net worth in this room alone is more than I’ll see in ten lifetimes.

“Mr. Baxley won’t be here today for this interview. If we decide to move forward with second rounds, he’ll be present for that one,” Mr. Denton says.

I nod and try to consciously make eye contact with each person while not looking crazy at the same time.

“You have an impressive background, Miss Monroe. I’m sure it’s not the first time someone has told you that.”

I smile. “Thank you. Yes, I have heard that from previous employers.”

We go through some general questions about my background, education, and then come the fun ones… the ones about how I’d be an asset to the company, why I should be considered, what value I’d bring to the company… a fight for my life or basically a modern-day version of a mock execution.

But this is where I come alive because I’m not just trying to blow smoke up these people’s asses; I’m serious about my career and where I see myself, and I see myself at Baxley Tech.

I feel confident as I stand and shake each of their hands.

“Great job today, kid.” Eric, the CFO who introduced himself earlier during the round table, gives me a wink and touches my elbow.

An instant ick feeling settles in my stomach but I don’t let him see.

“Thank you. I feel very confident about the next steps.” I maintain solid eye contact with him, refusing to let him make me feel out of place with his subtle comment about my age.

I’m more than aware that I’d be the youngest person in an executive position at this company, but that doesn’t scare me one bit. It just stokes the fire of determination inside me.

“I have no doubt we’ll be in touch shortly,” Mr. Denton says after walking me to the elevator.

“Thank you and I look forward to it, sir.” I step into the empty elevator and press the button for the ground floor. The moment the doors close, I toss my hands in the air again and do a happy dance.

It’s been four agonizing days since my interview and I am a nervous wreck. Every time I turn around, I’m either knocking something over or tripping over my own feet. My nerves feel like they’ve been juiced up with adrenaline and caffeine and all my breath work is for nothing.

I glance at the clock; it’s 4:48 p.m. on a Friday. For most people, the workday is done already but for me, I’ll probably be here till at least seven p.m. or later. I’m used to it at this point—that’s not why I’m looking at the clock. I refresh my email for the fiftieth time, but there’s nothing from Baxley.

“Hey, Savannah, doing anything fun this weekend?” Lynn, my coworker, pokes her head in my office.

I shrug. “Nothing on the books. Probably be here pretty late tonight. What about you?”

“Pete’s uncle is taking his boat out on the lake so we’ll probably join him. It’s not exactly my cup of tea, fishing and drinking beer, but it’ll be nice to get out in the sun.”

“That does sound fun. And hey, maybe you can convince him to take you to that cute French bistro you saw the other week that you mentioned.”

Her eyes light up, “You are so smart. I completely forgot about that.”

I’m about to respond when my phone buzzes and I look at the screen.

Incoming call from Pierce Denton.

“Oh, I have to,” I say, pointing to the phone, and she nods and waves, shutting my door behind her.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Monroe. Apologies for the late callback. I know how annoying that is, but business gets in the way sometimes.” He chuckles and I hold my breath. “Anyway, we would love to have you back for another round of interviews next week. That work for you?”

“Yes!” I attempt to readjust my volume as my excitement gets the better of me, “Yes, sorry.”

“Great. I’ll have Dorene from HR set it up with you. She’ll send over an email with some proposed times.”

“Will Mr. Baxley be there?”

“Yes, he will be—should be. You’ll be interviewing with him and Eric Oliver, the CFO you met at the last interview.”

“Oh, okay. Yes, I remember him.” I try to sound positive, but I don’t love the idea of having to speak to that man for several hours as these interviews can run long. At least Mr. Baxley will be there to hopefully correct him if he calls me kid again.

Per usual, I stay late tonight but with a little extra pep in my step. I double down and make sure I finish up as much as I can, knowing that there’s a good chance I’ll be gone from here in a few short weeks.

Normally, my Friday nights are a stressful battle between me trying to work late to finish things up so I’m not so stressed the next week and trying to appease my boyfriend via text with promises to spend every minute with him this weekend.

However, after several painful and teary conversations into the wee hours of the morning, Nick and I recently decided that after four years together, neither of us could offer what the other needed.

It wasn’t easy but it was right, and we both agreed. The breakup was mutual and amicable, and I’m sure we’ll stay friendly over the years. I promise myself that this time, I’ll give myself at least a year off from relationships.

I grab my purse and head down to my car, already yawning. I received an email about an hour ago from Dorene with three times next week for my interview. I confirmed one for Monday morning so now I can actually relax over the weekend… at least until Saturday afternoon when I start panicking all over again.

I hold my purse, plant, box of knickknacks for my office, and a bagel all in my hands as I walk through the revolving door of Baxley Tech, my new job where I, Savanna Grace Monroe, am COO. It still feels unreal.

Unfortunately and strangely, I have yet to meet Warren Baxley himself. He was called away on business before our interview so he was only able to attend via audio, sitting quietly on the call. I wouldn’t have even known he was there if Mr. Oliver hadn’t told me.

I purposely made eye contact with Mr. Oliver the entire interview because less than thirty seconds into it, his eyes dropped down to my breasts when I dared to look away for even a brief second.

“Hold it, please!” I say as my heels furiously click across the marble floor of the lobby. I dart through the closing doors of the elevator just as someone rushes up behind me to do the same.

I stumble as I feel two warm hands grab at my waist. I try to turn and see who it is when I hear his voice. “Whoa, kid. I’m sorry. Almost took a tumble on your first day.” Eric Oliver flashes me a smarmy smile, acting like he isn’t the one who caused me to stumble in the first place when his chest ran into my back.

I give him a slight smile and try to push my way to the back of the elevator.

“You need me to show you around? I can—”

“No, thank you. I know where I’m going. Much appreciated though.” I shut it down before he can offer anything else. “This is me,” I say, exiting the elevator the second the doors open.

But it isn’t me. I glance down to my right, then my left. I spot a bench and place my stuff down to pull up my email again to check the floor and suite number of my office.

“Shit, two floors up.” I walk back over to the elevator and press the button. This time when the doors open, it’s empty. I let out a sigh and step inside, but it stops after one floor and wouldn’t you know it, he gets back on the elevator with me.

“You sure you don’t need some help there, little lady?” He chuckles and pokes at my orchid that bobs over the top of my box.

“I’m sure.”

“Well, listen, I mean it. If you ever want to get lunch and get a feel for the company or need a mentor, I’m here for you.” It’s like he has zero control of his eyes that once again look down at my breasts at least four times in that one sentence.

I spin around and exit on my correct floor this time, finally finding my office and placing my things down. I straighten out my button-down blouse and pencil skirt, second-guessing my very professional clothing choice… Maybe I should have opted for a damn potato sack.

I don’t have many personal items to display in my office, not because I’m particularly private but because I have no family to have framed photos of or gifts or sentimental knickknacks. Besides my orchid, which I place on the corner of my desk, the only thing I have is a small five-inch-tall Eiffel Tower.

I click the button on the back of my iMac to turn it on, but nothing happens.

“The hell?” I mutter as I do it again and still nothing. I look under my desk and see that it’s not plugged in. I reach under my desk and plug it in. I grab my chair to help pull myself back up, but it swivels, so I launch myself forward and land right on my belly on the floor.

“Glad to see you found your office. Everything okay?”

I hear a voice behind me as I right myself. I’m on my knees, readjusting my ponytail I just knocked askew. I am really not in the mood for this man’s continued attempts at flirting or whatever the hell he’s thinking. Time to let him know this won’t fly with me.

“Sir, let me be very clear,” I say with my back still toward the door. “I’m not your midlife crises, okay?” I stand up and brush down my skirt. “This is a professional setting.”

“No, you’re not, but I’m pretty sure I’m your new boss.”

My spine stiffens and I feel my eyes bug out as I slowly turn around to face the man standing casually in my doorway.

Warren Freaking Baxley, in the flesh.

Shit.