Hey Wattpad buddies:
This is Mimi, and I'm uploading this novella for you to read. It is currently available as a free download from several major retailers. I do have copyright of this work (of course), and ask that you read this story from here or purchase from an approved retailer, and do not otherwise distribute. ;-)
If you like this story, there are 4 more available in the Borrowed Billionaire collection. Please visit my website www.mimistrong.com for the full list of approved vendors!
Thank you for your support of indie authors!
Borrowed Billionaire #1, The Walk-In
© 2012 Mimi Strong
Lexie, a professional organizer, is called to a job at the home of billionaire Luthor Thorne. She is told she cannot be seen by him! Unfortunately for Lexie, even his beautiful clothes turn her on, and she isn't able to resist temptation.
12,000 words, or 48 book pages long. This is the first of a 5-part series.
NOTE - a short preview of the opening of Borrowed Billionaire #2 is included at the end!
Erotic. This story contains super-hot sex, M/F. For adults, 18+ only.
PART 1: THE DRESS SHIRT
How are you supposed to meet people these days if you aren't a computer nerd? I've tried nightclubs, but you can't hear what a cute guy's saying over the music, and two or three drinks doesn't exactly help your judgment. If you do hook up with someone attractive, you have to do the morning-after walk of shame, with your panties in your purse, and the worst part is, that deep craving has turned into an unfulfilled ache, because the drunk guy who seemed hot enough at the bar turns out to live in his mother's basement and thinks foreplay is something you do on the golf course.
I'd just returned from such a shameful walk when I got the call. I tossed my keys into the bowl by the door and sat on my vintage chair while I jotted down the details. Some rich jerk was having an organizational crisis, and it was time for me to have a shower, put on my Bitch Boots, and go color-sort a wardrobe full of designer ties and sixty-dollar socks.
Such is the life of a professional organizer who caters to the needs of the mega-rich. Oh, I used to cater to the needs of the just-rich-enough, but then I discovered the Bitch Boots, and they promised me the power to break into the mega-rich market. Or so I believed. In any case, I'd started dressing better, and the jobs had gotten better, and I wasn't complaining about either. You gotta love a quality fabric.
Over the phone, I told Suzanne I'd drive to the client's in an hour. I checked my breath on my hand. “Make that an hour and a half,” I said. “I need to hydrate.”
“Not acceptable!” she yelled into the phone from her side. “We're on the cusp, here, Lexie. Be there by eleven or I'll send another girl.”
“I'll send Trisha,” she said, but her voice had that quiver that said she was bluffing.
“Trisha's in Boston, visiting her mother. I'll be there by eleven-thirty.”
Her voice steely, she said, “Eleven-fifteen.”
“Suzanne, have I ever told you what an excellent pimp you'd make?”