My Flower (A Dirty Boss Romance #3) Read Online C.M. Steele

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Erotic, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: A Dirty Boss Romance Series by C.M. Steele

Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)

Mr. Hardwick will deal with his new assistant as he sees fit.
She wasn’t his to begin with, but knowing she wasn’t in his reach had been too much. Now that he had her just feet away, how could he make her his without sending her running to human resources?
A hint of attraction is all he needed to claim what had been on his mind from the moment she called out his name and took away his pain.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One


The sound of Davis’s voice drones on while my headache builds around my temples. With my head throbbing, I should have rescheduled the meeting, but I’d rather get it over with.

The ideas for the latest marketing campaign are reasonable and have potential; however, something is missing from his plan. He pauses his long-winded speech to dig through his enormous pile of documents.

Although it’s a pleasant break from his speech, I’m pressed for time, and I can’t be delayed. “Is something wrong, Mr. Davis?”

“No, Mr. Hardwick. It seems my assistant didn’t put in one of the documents.” He continues fumbling with the papers, only adding to the noise and annoyance, driving me insane. Understanding how easily an assistant can ruin a project, I will give him the benefit of the doubt; however, this meeting is at an end.

“Mr. Davis. I’m afraid I don’t have time to wait for the projections. Do you have that information in your notes?”

He looks up from his splayed-out mess on my conference room table, and the color leaves his face. “I’m afraid I don’t.” Yes, I have fired people for ineffectiveness before, but he’s the marketing director, and it would be hard to replace him over a missing document. His assistant, though, is altogether another exception. However, I’ll let it go, seeing as he’s the one who will be dealing with her.

“Well then, please have your absentminded assistant bring it up directly after lunch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a call to take in twenty minutes that I need to prepare for. This meeting is at an end.” I close my leather portfolio and stand without waiting for a rebuttal.

“Yes, Mr. Hardwick,” he stammers, gathering his things. His two mindless employees that sat in on the meeting don’t say a word as they look at their boss while he flounders and sinks.

Normally, I’d just have the document brought up immediately, and the problem solved, but my head hurts too damn much to tolerate incompetence today. After having to fire another useless assistant, I’m forced to handle everything on my own, turning my mood sour.

I step out of the conference room and walk straight to my office, not bothering to see them out because I don’t have time for it. My schedule is already swamped, as always. Sliding off my suit jacket, I place it over my chair and sit down before I dig out the new prescription from the doctor. Hopefully, it works because my mood isn’t improving as I look through my calendar on my desk.

My next meeting runs a lot smoother, even though my head hasn’t quite eased up. After the call, I drafted the agreement for my client in North Carolina. Checking the time, I noticed it was time for lunch, so I heated the special meal I had my chef prepare for today. It’s not a bad dish, but I’m a grown man at six-foot fucking four and two hundred ten pounds. This lunch is only enough to feed a five-foot-nothing ninety-pound vegan ballerina watching her figure.

I get back to work and forget about my empty stomach because there’s a lot to get done before I’ll get out of the office. Next on my to-do list is the stack of documents my former assistant screwed up before I fired her. Without a doubt, she did it on purpose. As she was led off the floor by security, she said I was an asshole to work for and that I needed a lesson in manners.

She’s the one who needed a lesson in telling time. It wasn’t difficult or some type of science because technology made it easy for everyone to read a digital clock. Hell, they hardly made clocks with hands anymore. College educated, but she couldn’t get to work before nine every day when we started at eight—and I was considered the asshole.

An hour later and my head’s still aching, so I take another migraine pill with a bottle of water, hoping that the throbbing pain will subside, but it’s not looking good. The numbers and words on the page are starting to float around, driving me into madness. My thoughts go to my father, who passed away when he was in his thirties from a heart attack. Maybe I’m working my way into an early grave.

With a deep breath, I close my eyes and lean my head against the tall back of my leather chair. The silence eases the tension in my head, and I doze off in my seat.

“Mr. Hardwick,” a soft voice wakes me from my sleep, and I jolt straight up in my seat, ignoring the flash of pain in my temple. A woman I’ve never met before stands with one hand mid-air, about to knock again on my open office door frame. She’s small, barely five-foot-two blonde with a slender body, a rounded face, and bright blue eyes. Anxiousness screams from her body as she teeters from one foot to the other. Her eyes are expressive as she waits for my reply, but my brain is still trying to process her presence.