Mommy's Boss Read online

  Mommy’s Boss

  An Older Man Younger Woman Forbidden Romance

  S.E. Law

  Copyright © 2019 by S.E. Law

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Also by S.E. Law

  Standalones

  You’re Mine

  Boss of My Panties

  Naughty Relations

  About Last Night

  About This Morning

  About That Evening

  About My Daddies

  Playing with Them

  Playing with the Doctors

  Playing with the Criminals

  Playing with her Priests

  Healing Hands

  Dr. Feelgood

  Dr. Man Candy

  The Boyfriend Diaries

  Mommy’s Ex

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  Contents

  About This Book

  1. Maddy

  2. Cameron

  3. Maddy

  4. Cameron

  5. Maddy

  6. Cameron

  7. Maddy

  8. Cameron

  9. Maddy

  10. Cameron

  11. Maddy

  12. Cameron

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Mommy’s Ex

  About the Author

  About This Book

  My mom’s gorgeous, growly billionaire boss has threatened to fire her unless I agree to be his.

  My mom and I don’t have much in life, nor do we require much. We’re happy together because it’s us girls against the world.

  All we ask is for a roof over our head, food on the table, and maybe a night out at the movies every now and then.

  We’ve been okay so far because my mom works hard at a casino on the Strip. She puts in long days toiling away for a few bucks here and there.

  But now, Grace is sick. My mother can’t work anymore, and her heartless billionaire boss, Cameron Savage, has fired her, leaving us with nothing. Unless…

  … I become his “personal assistant!”

  What?!?!

  Who does Mr. Savage think he is?

  Okay, the billionaire’s got movie-star good looks with intense blue eyes, night-black hair, and a six pack made of steel beneath that fancy suit.

  But to my horror, Mr. Savage wants more than just an executive assistant. For this job, I have to be available 24/7, ready at the CEO’s beck and call.

  In short, I’ll belong to Cameron Savage in every way possible.

  He’s marking me as his.

  I’m his property.

  The problem is …

  … what happens if the alpha male puts a baby in my belly? Will he change his ways once he’s being called DADDY?

  This story is a forbidden, sweet and steamy tale filled with an OVER THE TOP hunky, growly badass of a CEO and a sassy, feisty girl with a strong will. Cameron Savage makes Maddy a dirty deal, but will she take it? No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers!

  1

  Maddy

  “Hi sweetheart,” my mom greets me as she comes in through the front door. Grace is just about to say something else but then she leans over, hacking and coughing like she’s short a lung.

  Immediately, I jump up.

  “Mom, are you okay?” I ask, running over to pound her on the back. But I should know better because Grace is about five foot seven and one hundred and fifteen pounds. She’s as slender as a young bough, and my hard thumps only makes her double over even more.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she manages while holding a hand up. My mom looks up at me and her eyes are slightly teary from both the coughing fit and my vigorous pounding. “I’m going to be okay.”

  My heart lurches because in the harsh light of the front door porch, I can see how Grace has aged. She’s not old, not really. My mom is only forty but a difficult life has put lines onto her face early. There are brackets around her eyes and mouth that make-up can’t hide, and the look of exhaustion in her eyes is undeniable.

  It makes sense after all. My mom hasn’t had it easy from the very beginning. Grace was born into a family that never had much. As a result, when she was twelve, she went out and got her first job. It was just taking in laundry from neighbors, but it was back-breaking work and very humble, not to mention embarrassing when her friends found out. But she toiled away for years, and managed to get a high school degree even while working non-stop. Then, Grace met my dad and thought her days as a low-paid laborer were over.

  At first it was okay because my dad, David, was a handsome charmer. He had the silver tongue of an Irishman, along with canny wit and a head full of crazy ideas. The problem is that his ideas were too inspired. David was filled with all sorts of get-rich-quick tactics, none of which worked. After a flop where he and my mom were supposed to breed turkeys to sell, David high-tailed it out of Vegas, never to be seen again. My mom must have been relieved, to tell you the truth.

  But he also left her pregnant with me, and after I was born, Mom went back to menial labor. She got a job at a hotel on the Strip doing laundry once more, and over the next couple years toiled away like a servant. But then, Grace caught a lucky break. One day, a showrunner saw her walking across the casino floor, and asked her to try out for their next production. Voila. History was made, and Grace Mitchell became a showgirl at Le Palms.

  It’s not an easy job, although my mom never complains. As a showgirl, you have to keep lean, fit, and flexible. My mom always stretches first thing in the morning, and tries to stay limber. She wears make-up all the time, and her hair is always dyed and styled to perfection. It’s a far cry from me, her messy and disorganized daughter.

  But my mom and I are close; after all, Grace is all I have, and I’m all that she has too. It’s just the two of us against the world, so I was concerned to see my mom bent over while hacking up a lung.

  “Are you okay?” I ask worriedly again, while helping her sit in the Barcalounger in our living room. We live in a small condo off the Strip which isn’t fancy, but which is in a good location. My mom has an easy commute to Le Palms, and I can catch the bus to the local high school pretty easily.

  “I’m fine,” she says in a raspy voice with a smile. “Maddy, honey, can you get me a glass of water? I’m sure as soon as I get some water into me, I’ll be fine.”

  I scurry off, only to return with a glass of water in hand to find my mom nodding off the recliner. My heart lurches and tears come to my eyes because Grace is just so damned tired all the time. She hasn’t had a day’s rest in her forty-odd years, and her head droops wearily onto one shoulder. I can see the faint cast of exhaustion emanating from that thin frame and a lump forms in my throat.

  I’m just about to creep off with her water in hand when suddenly Grace jerks awake.

  “That’s just the thing I need, sweetheart,” she rasps in a croaky voice. “Give me a sip and let’s have a chat. Why are you still awake, Maddy? You weren’t waiting up for me, were you?”

  I take a seat, my cheeks a little pink. The truth is that I was waiting for Grace. It’s two a.m. on a Friday night, and I know I should be out partying with boys or at least seeing a movie with my friends, but it’s impossible to have fun when I know my mom is slaving away to pay our bills. As a result, I’m dressed in my flannel PJs, but wide awake and relieved that she’s back now.

  “Sweetheart, you don’t have to wait up,” Grace says, covering my hand with hers. “I’m your dear ol
d mom. No one’s going to kidnap me.”

  I sputter a bit.

  “No, it’s not kidnapping,” I say. “I’m just worried. You work so hard to put food on the table and I feel so bad that I don’t contribute –”

  My mom holds one hand up, cutting me off.

  “I don’t want you to contribute Maddy. I don’t want you to be like me, working from the age of twelve and barely graduating from high school. I want you to have a real future, where you go to college and get a professional job. Where you don’t use your body to make money,” she says, smiling sadly.

  I protest.

  “You’re not really using your body. You’re not taking off your clothes or letting men touch you or anything like that,” I say quickly.

  But Grace merely shrugs.

  “I’m not, but sometimes I feel like I am. There’s a fine line between being a showgirl and being a stripper. But on another note, how are those college applications going?” she asks, sitting up straight. “Have you gotten your essay written? How about your letters of recommendation? I’m sure my baby will get into all the best schools. Imagine it: Madeline Mitchell, summa cum laude graduate!”

  I smile with her, but then my look turns serious.

  “Mom, everything is fine with me, and all my college apps are on track. But what about you? You’re sick, right? Why don’t you go to the doctor tomorrow? You have tomorrow off, and I have time. I can drive you,” I say encouragingly.

  But Grace looks down then, her lips trembling a bit.

  “Mom, what is it?” I ask, my spidey sense going off like a five-alarm bell. “What’s wrong?”

  My mom takes a deep breath and for the first time, I notice a faint gray pallor to her face.

  “Maddy, we should try not to go to the doctor too much. We should save those visits only for emergencies,” she says quietly, although her voice wavers just a bit.

  I nod.

  “Of course, I know we have that thirty-dollar co-pay every time we go. But you are sick, Mom. You need to see the doctor because that cough’s been getting worse over the last week, and not better. You’re not improving.”

  But my mom merely shakes her head again, still looking at the floor.

  “Honey, we shouldn’t go to the doctor unless it’s an absolute emergency because I lost my job today. Evidently, I’m too old to be a showgirl at Le Palms now. I guess being in your fourth decade is a little over the hill for this kind of job,” she says with a small, sad twist to her smile.

  I stare at my mom, my mouth open in shock.

  “But you look great Mom! Who said that? Was it Mr. Crocker, who manages the show? Or the woman who choreographs your routines? Oh, I know. It was that bitchy costume assistant right? The one who’s always dropping hints about dieting and laxatives.”

  My mom shakes her head in defeat.

  “No, it wasn’t any of them. Supposedly, word came from Cameron Savage himself, owner of Le Palms. He thinks I’m too old to perform for his guests.”

  My back jerks ramrod straight in outrage.

  “What the hell? This is age discrimination! I’m going to file something with the EEOC or whatever it’s called. This is total bullshit, and Le Palms isn’t going to get away with it.”

  My mom puts a gentle hand on my arm, and her sad eyes break my heart.

  “No, Maddy. You’ll just make more trouble for us if you report Mr. Savage. Besides, they’ve offered me my old job in the hotel laundry again, so it’s not the end of the world. I’ll still get paid, and there are some benefits attached to that position, provided I work a minimum of thirty hours a week.”

  I open my mouth but then it snaps shut. My sense of outrage is still strong, but my sense of sadness is overwhelming. My mom looks defeated as she sits in the recliner with her slumped shoulders. Her hair, under the harsh light of the lamp, has been dyed platinum blonde but it’s also showing tell-tale strands of silver now. Her make-up looks garish, and her cheeks are beginning to sink in on themselves with age. In short, Le Palms has taken my mother’s best years and then spit her out like she’s worth nothing now that she can’t produce.

  I manage a tight smile.

  “Everything’s going to be fine, Grace. Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. They can’t just use you like this, and then toss you away once you’ve lost your looks. Besides, you’re still beautiful and you’re probably the best dancer they have.”

  The older woman smiles wearily at me.

  “You’re so kind, sugar, and I know we’ll get by no matter what happens. Remember, it’s you and me against the world, right Maddy? I love you, my sweet girl.”

  My heart breaks again and tears come to my eyes. With a heavy lump in my throat, I help my mom up the stairs and into bed before softly shutting the door to her bedroom. But despite my grief, my heart’s pumping with rage, fear, and injustice because I’m not going to let Le Palms use her like this. I’m going to confront Cameron Savage face-t0-face so that he sees the destruction he’s wreaked, and then I’m going to destroy him so that he gets a taste of his own medicine.

  2

  Cameron

  It’s a boring night tonight, which is saying something when you’re the owner of Le Palms. After all, my hotel is the glitziest, most glamorous casino on the Strip. If you want to sample the finest wines, come to my restaurants. If you want to take in the finest artwork, then enjoy our private museum. If you want the best rooms, the best card games, and the most outrageous nightclubs, then Le Palms is your place. So it’s pretty crazy that I’m bored amidst it all.

  But it makes sense on some level. I founded Le Palms twenty years ago when I was a young upstart without a cent to my name. I’d just graduated from hotel school, and had a raging hunger to be successful but only a sliver of an idea how to do it. As a result, after scraping some cash from friends and family, I purchased a small run-down casino that had dollar beers and fifty cent shots. It was that low rent.

  But over the next couple years, I transformed the place into something different. I started upping the ante of everything I touched, from the food and drink, to the slot machines. I put in a nightly revue featuring beautiful showgirls, and then hired an MC who could draw the crowd. Within ten years, we’d moved to a different location and were hosting Vegas residencies by the likes of Celine Dion and Britney Spears. Money was being made hand over fist, to say the least.

  But money gets old. You can’t eat money, you can’t drink money, and you can’t fuck money. As a result, I’m up to my ears in cash, but I don’t care about it anymore. It certainly doesn’t care about me. When I’m in my grave, my bank accounts aren’t going to cry, and my dollar bills won’t hold a funeral to commemorate my passing.

  But it is what it is. I have a lot of it, and people kowtow to me as a result. Everyone calls me Mr. Savage or Sir, and most people maintain a deferential air at all times. It’s always “Yes Mr. Savage” or “Yes Sir, whatever you like.” It suits me okay. I don’t love being surrounded by yes men, but when you have as much as I do, it’s hard to find someone who will give it to you straight.

  Sighing, I lean back in my office chair and look out over Le Savage, our nightclub. My office is situated on the second floor so that I can look down on the dance floor, and it’s always an interesting sight. They have the black lights going tonight, and the crowd is bathed in an unearthly pale blue glow as bodies mash together in a pulsing heap. I can see couples making out while others break apart, only to come back together. I can even see the fronds of a plant over to the left shaking wildly, and I’d bet a million dollars that people are having fun there tonight.

  But this is what Le Savage is about. People come to Vegas to forget their cares, and what happens here, stays here. Let them spend their money and live wild dreams; after all, that’s what I seek to provide. I just wish I had someone special amidst it all. But all work and no play has made Cameron Savage a very boring, if wealthy, man, and no women have caught my eye in quite a while now.

  Suddenly,
a sharp rap sounds on the door. I glance at my watch. It’s about four a.m. and most of my staff has left. There’s probably a bodyguard around, and god knows what he or she wants.

  I call out, “Come,” and the door swings open. But standing there is neither a burly man nor an assistant of any type. Instead, a beautiful girl is framed in the doorway with blonde hair of spun gold, and a curvy figure that makes my mouth water. Unfortunately, the pocket Venus looks as mad as a hornet, and my heart begins pounding with anticipation. What does she want? There’s only one way to find out.

  3

  Maddy

  This is a hare-brained idea, for sure, but I was so upset about my mom’s impromptu dismissal that I had to do something. As a result, after Grace fell asleep, I quickly changed and then jumped into my Jetta and raced straight to Le Palms. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do. Complain to customer service? File a complaint with Human Resources? Who knows?

  But as I sped down the freeway, an idea leapt into mind. I’d confront Cameron Savage himself. He’s rich, but he’s not all-powerful. He’s not God. He needs to see the devastation he’s wreaked upon my family, not to mention the humiliation suffered by my mom. Grace has aged ten years in the last two, and he deserves to get a tongue-lashing if nothing else. Who cares if he fires her from the laundry department? There are plenty of jobs like that around the Strip.