Mommy's Boss Read online

  As my car pulled up to the hotel, a sudden pang of fear lanced through my heart. Was I really up for this? After all, Le Palms is enormous. There are huge palm trees planted in a semi-circle before the silver high-rise, and each one likely cost thousands of dollars, seeing that they were imported from a far-away place. Not just that, but the other cars pulling into and out of the hotel’s circular driveway were fancy. There were Bugattis, Ferraris and Lamborghinis, not to mention the occasional Rolls. These weren’t your usual luxury cars; these were la crème de la crème, each vehicle worth at least a few hundred thousand.

  Thus, it was with trembling legs that I parked my Jetta in a spot over to the side before striding to the hotel’s front doors. Once again, I almost lost my nerve. The men and women who passed me all seemed to be dressed to the nines as they laughed and talked. The women wore mini-dresses or ball-gowns, often in jewel tones with lots of sequins. The men were dashing in perfectly-cut tuxedos, the white dress shirts highlighting their tanned skin.

  Meanwhile, there was me. I’m not tanned at all. Instead, I’m as pale as a ghost, although my lips are deeply pink and my lashes and brows a medium chestnut. My hair is a golden blonde, and most days it’s back in a ponytail. But in my rush, it pooled around my shoulders, coasting over the lumpy sweater and jeans I wore.

  Nonetheless, I put my head down and stormed into the casino. Lights flashed everywhere, and the sound of coins clanking seemed to ring out from every corner. Were those sound effects, or were people really playing the slots with that kind of frequency? I jerked my head. Cameron Savage wouldn’t be here. He would be somewhere hidden away and remote, watching the action.

  Slowly, I crept around the casino. To be honest, it was a maze, and it took me quite a while to get my bearings. But finally, I located a map and was able to see a blank area where it looked like there was nothing. Ah-ha! the voice in my head reasoned. That must be where corporate offices are located.

  Following the map, I made my way towards the pulsing beat of Le Savage, the nightclub. The offices had to be around here somewhere. There were lots of locked doors, but one set of double doors to the side were open, and I pushed them wide before letting myself into a brightly-lit hall. I wandered in towards the back, and then randomly began trying doors. Nope, most of them were locked. Meanwhile, the lights grew dimmer and then, I entered a plush walkway off to the left.

  Almost tiptoeing, I made myself down the hall to an unmarked door at the very end. The music from the nightclub was still audible, but it was faint. The walls here must have been sound-proofed, and I was willing to bet that Cameron Savage’s office would be as quiet as library, with its thick, lush carpet and overstuffed furniture. Finally, I stopped before the door and raised one hand to knock. To my surprise, my knock came out firm and decisive, and upon hearing the raps, a deep voice sounded from within.

  “Come,” it said.

  My heart began to pound. Holy cow, was this the lair of Cameron Savage himself? Knees shaky, I turned the doorknob and stepped in to meet the king.

  4

  Cameron

  Holy shit, the girl is beautiful. She’s dressed in rags, but even the rags can’t detract from the perfect symmetry of her features, and the lush lips that have me raging with a hard-on within seconds. I was ready to devour her but then those lips opened to speak.

  “Cameron Savage?” she asks in a challenging voice.

  I smirk.

  “That’s me.”

  Her brows lower and storm clouds descend.

  “My name is Madeline Mitchell,” she says in a huff. “And I’ll have you know that you just destroyed the soul of a beautiful woman who didn’t deserve it.”

  I raise my brows in amusement as the door slams shut behind her.

  “I’m sorry? And would this beautiful woman be you?”

  The blonde shakes her head furiously.

  “No, it’s not, and I don’t appreciate you making fun of me. For your information, the woman I’m talking about is my mother, Grace DeWitt Mitchell, and you have officially ground her into dust with your abominable treatment of her.”

  My mind whirls. Who is this Grace person? I try to think, but no one comes to mind. There was the woman that I hooked up with last month, but her name was something that started with “L.” I would remember if her name was Grace.

  Then, there’s my ex from a year ago who keeps calling and then hanging up before I can answer. Adelaide is insane, and I’m happy to be rid of her. Crazies are difficult to reason with, and being with one who’s hot and crazy seems to be an especially lethal mix.

  But who is the sumptuous woman standing before me, and who is Grace?

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a silky tone. “But I think you have the wrong person. I don’t know who you’re talking about, nor do I know anything about these alleged high crimes I’ve committed.”

  The girl snorts, her cheeks a bewitching shade of pink.

  “Grace Mitchell is my mother,” she says in a trembling voice. “She’s worked for Le Palms for almost ten years now as a showgirl, and you just fired her tonight. You broke her heart, Mr. Savage, and cast her away like she means nothing! After ten years of service. Is this how you treat all your employees?”

  I squint, trying to recall the events of tonight. I did have a conversation with George Cox, who manages the showgirls who work at Le Palms earlier. And he did say something about having to let a couple of the girls go because of drug-related dependencies and general truancy. But he didn’t say anything about firing a middle-aged woman who was supporting her family. Or did he?

  “I’m sorry,” I say with a shrug. “But personnel matters are private, and I can’t discuss them with any random stranger who comes bursting into my office in the middle of the night. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I say in a frigidly polite tone.

  But the blonde’s not having it.

  “No,” she spits. “You listen to me, Cameron Savage. My mom has worked long and hard for years now working her fingers to the bone, and you are not going to break her like this. Before she was a showgirl at Le Palms, she worked in housekeeping doing the hotel linens and other peoples’ laundry. Do you understand what I’m saying? My mom is not a leech. She is not a bloodsucker. Grace is a good person who works hard, and she doesn’t deserve to be fired from her job just like that!”

  I shake my head, weariness overtaking me. The girl is gorgeous, but I hate all matters pertaining to HR. It’s not my forte, although I’ve had to become skilled at managing people out of sheer necessity.

  “I’m sorry, and who are you again?” I drawl. I’ve already asked but I want to get under her skin. Clearly, I’m an asshole of the nth degree.

  Her cheeks flare red again.

  “I’m Madeline Mitchell,” she says stiffly. “Grace’s daughter.”

  I look at the woman for a moment. She really is shapely, come to think of it. The baggy sweater can’t hide the well-formed breasts beneath the thick, lumpy material, and her jeans hang loosely on long, slender legs. She’s well-proportioned, and her face and hair look touched by sunshine, even within the gloom of my office.

  “Okay, let’s just say for argument’s sake that I did fire your mother. What do you want me to do?”

  “Re-hire her,” says Maddy promptly, her hands on her hips. “That’s the only decent thing to do.”

  I lean back in my chair.

  “Yes, but I can’t do that. My guess is that your mother is over-worked and probably too old to keep doing what she’s doing. Being a showgirl isn’t just about smiling and high-kicks; it’s about being an athlete. You have to get up there for three hours straight and take the crowd by storm. There’s all sorts of tumbling, in addition to shimmying, shaking, and multiple costume changes. It’s not for the faint of heart and it’s hard on your body. How old is your mom now? Forty? Forty-one? Forty-two?”

  Maddy’s lip trembles.

  “She’s forty,” she says in a rigid voice.

  I sigh.

  “E
xactly. Most of the showgirls are twenty-five, or even younger. This isn’t really a job for the middle-aged, and my guess is that your mother has been worn down by the experience. It’s kinder and gentler for us to let her go, Maddy. There’s no sense in beating an old horse when there’s nothing left in the gas tank.”

  That makes the blonde girl fly into a rage. She literally charges me, screaming.

  “Don’t you call my mother an old horse! Grace has more than a thousand times your value, you son of a bitch! She’s worked her tail off for this stupid Le Palms for more than a decade, and this is how you repay her?”

  I fend off her blows, which is pretty easy because although Maddy is tall, I’ve got to be at least six inches taller. Not only that, but Maddy is thin and lithe, whereas I’m huge and burly. I’m all muscle, whereas she’s sensuous curves, and she doesn’t have a chance to strike me.

  But against all odds, a small fist gets through my defenses, and her hand glances off my hard chest.

  “You’re a raging asshole!” she’s screaming now. “You deserve to be murdered! I’m going to murder you myself! Ahhh-”

  But then her screams are cut off because I’ve lowered my lips to hers, catching that delectable pout in a searing kiss. Madeline Mitchell is hot, sweet, and so angry that I can’t get enough.

  5

  Maddy

  Cameron’s lips are like fire on mine, knowing, knowledgeable, and so demanding all at once. I beat my fists on that massive chest, looking to do bodily injury, but after a few seconds, my arms are snaking around his neck and burrowing into that thick, dark hair.

  “Cameron,” I whisper. “Oh my god.”

  He breaks away for a moment to look into my eyes. In the gloom, I notice for the first time that his eyes are actually navy blue, and not the flashing black that I’d assumed.

  “Maddy,” he murmurs against my cheek before kissing me again. “Calm down. You come in here like a woman scorned but there’s more to the story. Just hear me out, okay?”

  I shake my head, and to my horror, tears come to my eyes.

  “But Grace is all I have, and I’m all she has,” I choke out. “And now, you’ve taken away my mother’s dignity. How could you do this?”

  At that, the sobs begin in earnest, and my shoulders hunch over in pain. But to my surprise, Mr. Savage doesn’t push me away. Instead, he pulls me into his lap, cradling me with those strong arms as if I’m a little child. He strokes my back and murmurs sweet nothings against my temple.

  “You’re going to be fine, Maddy. I’ll make sure of it, okay? You have nothing to worry about.”

  I hiccup wildly before slapping a hand over my mouth. Have I lost all my dignity? This is the enemy, for crying out loud. What am I doing curled up in his lap and clinging to his massive form like a wet rat?

  I sit up abruptly, looking into those blue eyes.

  “Thanks,” I manage in a choked voice. “If you give my mom her job back, we’ll be so grateful.”

  Cameron sits back then, but to my surprise he doesn’t let me go. Instead, he pulls me against his chest again. At first, I resist and stay tense, but then I give in and melt against that warm hardness. It’s so easy to pretend that everything’s going to be okay when I’m ensconced in his arms like this. It’s so easy to pretend that I’m a princess in a castle, and that my white knight will protect me from all the evils of the world outside.

  “Listen to me, Maddy,” he rumbles. His voice is so deep that I can feel the vibrations in his chest, and merely press myself even closer to his masculine warmth. “It’s probably better that your mom was fired, okay? There are reasons why HR might fire someone. For example, she can collect unemployment if she’s fired, whereas if she quits, my understanding is that she won’t qualify for government help.”

  But these words don’t sit right with me and I sit up indignantly again.

  “Government help? My mom and I don’t need government help,” I say in a stiff voice. “We’ve always been on our own, and I’ll be damned if the Mitchell women live off of the government at this late stage.”

  A corner of Cameron’s perfectly-sculpted lips quirk. He looks like he’s about to say something, and then changes his mind.

  “How old are you, Maddy?” he asks gently.

  I stare at him.

  “I’m eighteen. I’m a senior at North Las Vegas High, and yes, before you ask, my mom had me young. She was little more than a girl herself when she got pregnant with me. It’s how all the women in our family are. We like to have our kids early.”

  He nods thoughtfully.

  “You do seem very ripe,” he rumbles in a low voice. What? What does that mean? But before I can press him, he tips my chin his way. I shiver at the electric contact, and the promise in his eyes shakes me to my core.

  “How about I make you a deal, Maddy?”

  I snort.

  “Like the deal you made my mom? Did I mention that after she was removed from her showgirl position, your hotel offered her her old cleaning position back? So my mom can go back to vacuuming hotel rooms and picking up garbage? I swear, you have no respect for her dignity at all,” I say, tears pooling in my eyes. “Grace worked really hard to become a showgirl, and now you just want her to go back to square one.”

  I nod.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty heartless. Let me just say that I didn’t know about any of this, and that sometimes human resources at big companies can be a little wacky. The left hand doesn’t talk to the right hand, et cetera. We’ll find a better place for your mom at the hotel.”

  I stare at him.

  “But doing what? My mom can’t cook, she can’t clean, and I agree with you: she might be getting too old to wear high heels for eight hours a day. What else is there?”

  Cameron looks thoughtful.

  “How about an office job?”

  I stare at him.

  “But doing what? My mom’s not exactly good with numbers, so she can’t be an accountant. She’s even worse with computers, so she probably can’t even do something like answer the phones and take reservations.”

  Cameron squints a bit.

  “Really? No computer experience?”

  I shrug.

  “Grace has been working since she was young, but she’s always had people-pleasing kind of jobs. She was always the dog-walker, or someone who made drinks for you at the coffee shop. What is that position called again? Oh right, a barista. My mom has never been good at hitting the books, and as a result, she’s always been blue-collar. Not that we’re ashamed of it or anything. It just is what it is,” I say in a rush.

  Cameron looks thoughtful.

  “Okay, so she’s into some kind of customer service.”

  “Without having to use computers,” I add quickly.

  “Without having to use computers,” he repeats in a slow voice. Then the CEO turns to look at me with a gentle light in those blue eyes. “How if I send her to job re-training? That way she could learn to use computers and technology. Lots of people do it nowadays because the world is changing so fast. Besides, I think knowing how to use computers is a good thing, don’t you think? It’ll help her no matter what she does next.”

  “You would do that for her?” I ask in an excited voice. “You would send my mom back to school?”

  He chuckles a bit.

  “I don’t know if this qualifies as sending her back to school, but yes, Le Palms can definitely help her enroll in some job re-training courses. There are plenty at a number of community colleges around Vegas, and this will give your mother some time to breathe as she gets back on her feet again.”

  My cheeks grow warm and I practically do a little dance in his lap for joy.

  “I’d appreciate it so much,” I say in an excited tone. “I didn’t mean to imply that my mom is terrible with technology. I mean, she can use the microwave and turn on the TV with the remote, no problem. But this re-training will definitely help her so much, and it’ll give her so many more options.”

&nb
sp; He smiles at me, and again, I feel that warm balm seep into my soul once more. It’s nice to feel taken care of, and like my problems might go away because Cameron Savage has made it so. But then, I frown.

  “But would it be okay for her to get a stipend while she’s training? Otherwise, we won’t have any money,” I say plainly. “We won’t be able to afford our rent, and I’m still in high school so I don’t have a job.”

  The billionaire looks thoughtful, one large hand stroking a curl behind my ear.

  “We can talk about a stipend, but I’m a businessman, honey. I don’t love giving things away for free. I’ve worked for everything I have, and I expect other people to do the same.”

  I stare at him again, the bronzed skin so tanned and masculine against his white shirt collar.

  “But my mom worked for you for ten years. Surely, that’s enough for a significant stipend? Or even something small just to get us through these difficult times. Please,” I say plaintively. I hate the begging tone in my voice, but this man literally has my family in the palm of his hand. I’ll do anything to save my mother, and to get us out of this bind.

  Cameron looks thoughtful for another moment before turning to me with an unreadable gaze.

  “Let’s compromise then, Maddy. High school is old enough to start working. Would you like to come work for me, here at Le Palms?”

  I stare at him, trying to digest his offer.

  “But doing what? I’m so sorry, Mr. Savage, but I don’t have many skills. I’m trying to take practical classes like Journalism and Home Ec, but you don’t need a reporter do you? Or a seamstress?”

  He throws his head back and laughs.

  “No, we don’t need a reporter, thanks. We have a PR firm that handles all our publicity for us. Although a seamstress could come in useful,” he muses with a gleam to his eye. “We do lose a lot of buttons on our curtain sashes, and there are always sheets to be repaired and all sorts of linens to be patched. How good are you with a sewing machine?”