The Alpha's Hunger Read online

  “Really? For an interview?”

  He didn’t answer that question, as if he only had a certain allotment of words each day and he didn’t want to hit his limit answering stupid questions from her. She sat back in the seat and watched the skillful way he navigated traffic.

  “Thank you for picking me up today.” Lame, Ashley. Very lame.

  He didn’t even look at her this time.

  Right. Keep your mouth shut, Ash.

  When they reached the building, he pulled into his reserved spot, right by the elevators.

  “Thanks again,” she said as they stepped into the elevator together.

  He didn’t answer, but his eyes were on her face again, studying her. Her cheeks grew warm. His mouth twitched. “Where are you from?”

  “Oh,” she said, drawing a breath to recover from the scrutiny of his gaze. “Here. Lakewood,” she said, naming the suburb of Denver where she’d grown up.

  He nodded.

  “Sports? Activities?”

  “I took State in swimming in high school,” she offered hopefully.

  This won an almost smile.

  The elevator arrived on her floor. “Well, um, thanks again. I’ll see you at three. I mean, I’m looking forward to our meeting,” she said, backing out of the elevator.

  Only his eyebrow moved in acknowledgment. The doors slid shut and she exhaled, smiling as she walked to her cubicle. She had landed the interview. Now she just had to figure out how to impress him. What did Mr. Stone like in an employee? She feared there was no one at Stone Technologies who knew the answer to that question.

  * * *

  Ben didn’t have a clue what he would do with a personal assistant. He didn’t like anyone in his business or his space. He didn’t want to hear their whispers or smell their smells. He didn’t want to have to talk to them. What had possessed him to invent a personal assistant job? Ashley Bell, obviously. For whatever reason, he wanted to keep her close at hand.

  Her scent still lingered, filling his mind with images of stripping her naked. He wanted to sink his teeth into her shoulder while he plowed into her from behind, hard and fast. But she was human. Hell, even if she was a shifter, with Carlos Sandoval out to kill him, he was not mate material.

  He sighed and picked up his phone, asking Karen, his secretary, to make the arrangements to add a workstation to the office next to his.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, knowing better than to ask him who or what it was for.

  He leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, and opened Ashley’s personnel file. It contained very little—her resume, application, references. Well, what had he expected, a life history?

  He opened his computer and searched for her name on the Internet. It produced three references—one from her high school swimming championship and two from her college academic achievements. He searched her name on Facebook and perused her photos, which she unwisely shared with the public. The same girl from the photo she’d flashed him in his office appeared in many of them—a sister almost identical to her, except for the cut of her hair. They must be twins. Her relationship status was listed as single and very few guys appeared in the photos, which was fortunate, because he might have hunted down any man pretending to be good enough for her.

  Karen called to say his top level management team had arrived for the morning meeting, so he picked up his coffee mug and headed to the conference room.

  Jack, his brother’s best friend and vice president of development met him at the door with the same disapproving, pinched expression he always wore. Jack hated that Ben had taken the helm of the company and, in his opinion, was running it into the ground. The programmer had been part of the company since its initial start-up. Jack had helped design the first game software and been at Leon’s side during the lean years, helping him to grow it and get it where it was now.

  When Leon died, Ben had thought about turning his share of the stock over to Jack and letting him have the company, just as he’d refused to take leadership of his brother’s pack, but in the end, it didn’t seem right. His brother had left the company stock to him rather than to his wife and young children, which told him something. If Leon had trusted Jack to run the company, he would’ve left the stock to Shayla, presuming she and their children would be cared for. By leaving it to Ben, it meant Leon needed Ben there to look after things, to ensure the profits continued for the benefit of his family. And so Ben was there, running a multi-million dollar company with no experience. But he owed his brother. If he had done his duty in the first place, Leon would still be alive.

  He went into the meeting and listened as the team presented their weekly reports, which were dismal, as usual. Suma Games was rapidly taking over Stone’s market share. When he questioned the causes, he got excuses. In the first year, he had believed them, still getting his bearings and the culture of the company. Now he’d come to recognize the bullshit, but he hadn’t figured out what to do about it yet. As he stacked the reports in front of him, he hatched an idea.

  When Karen buzzed him that afternoon to say Ashley had arrived, he told her to send her to the conference room. He picked up the reports his management team supplied him with and entered.

  She jumped to her feet, knocking her rolling chair backward.

  “Sit.”

  “Woof,” she said.

  He arched a brow, hiding his amusement. No one talked back to him at Stone Technologies, but for some reason, on her, he found it cute.

  She blushed. “Sorry,” she mumbled, settling back into her chair. “I was just making a joke…”

  He walked around to the seat opposite her, but sat on the table rather than a chair, dropping the sales reports and financial data in front of her. “Sales are down. Costs are up. Find me ten strategies to rectify the situation and you have the job.”

  She gaped at him, her blue eyes wide. “Um… okay.” She picked up the papers and began leafing through them. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and he nearly groaned at the sight.

  “You have one hour. Two if you need it.”

  She exhaled. “Okay. Got it. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Her jaw dropped momentarily before she snapped it shut and blushed again. “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry, I don’t know the right etiquette, or protocol or whatever, but I’ll learn. I’m a quick learner.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he said, standing up from his perch on the table and walking out.

  He left her alone for an hour, then another. At five o’clock he opened the door to the conference room and found Ashley sweating, the reports and papers spread out in front of her.

  She jumped up.

  “Sit.”

  “Woof.”

  This time he actually smiled. He couldn’t help it. That she had tried her joke a second time after failing the first showed a confidence and resiliency he admired.

  When she caught his smile, her face broke into a wide grin.

  Torn between wanting to stare at its brilliance and needing to shut her down before she gained any further footing, he looked down at the papers. “Well?”

  “I only found eight,” she said immediately, clicking the top of her pen. “But I’m sure I can find two more if you give me just a little more time.”

  He hadn’t really expected her to find ten. Hell, he hadn’t expected her to find more than three. “Tell me what you’ve got.”

  Ashley picked up a piece of notebook paper where she’d made a list. “The first one is phasing out the NE3 Game Stations. A lot of money goes into maintaining them, when if you’d just refuse to service them any longer, everyone would buy the E6’s.”

  He nodded. The idea had occurred to him as well, but he hadn’t acted on it, mainly because the NE3 had been his brother’s first product, the platform for Robo Shooters, and the company, himself included, clung to it with a sentimental attachment. Hearing confirmation of his instinct from Ashley made up his mind. “Next.”

  “Um�
�” She looked down at her paper. “Costs on a number of these products seem too high, considering what we’re charging. The profit margin isn’t large enough. I suggest we institute a cost reduction team, awarding prizes to engineers or teams who can reduce by the most.”

  He liked the way she used the word ‘we,’ if they were already a team. It was presumptuous, yet it sounded right coming from her lips. “Good,” he said, throwing her a bone.

  She lifted her eyes at the compliment, then looked at her paper once more. “My third suggestion is to recover the market we lost to Suma Games last year. This is sort of a two-part suggestion, so I counted it as number three and number four.” She raised her gaze again, as if checking to see if he would allow it.

  He nodded.

  “So, the first would be an advertising campaign. And the second would be product development to compete with their D-boy unit. I understand both of those will require an outlay of capital, but I do think the investment would be worth it.”

  He didn’t comment.

  “Okay,” she said, drawing another breath. “Number five is to thin out some of middle management.” She stopped, watching his face for a reaction.

  “Reasoning?”

  “Right. Um, the reasoning is that you have an awful lot of people who sit around here and don’t do anything but tell others what to do and report further up the chain.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  She hesitated. “Yes, sir.”

  He liked that she remembered to call him sir.

  “Number six?”

  She continued, describing her last three ideas, of which all but one seemed sound.

  When she finished, he let her sit for a moment while he contemplated her in silence.

  “So, as I said, I’m sure I can come up with two more—”

  “Yes. I will expect you to. You can think about it tonight. You’ll start tomorrow. Karen will show you your new office.”

  Her face split into a grin. “Mr. Stone! Thank you. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

  He tapped the table. “See that I’m not.” He started for the door and stopped when he reached it. “Type up those suggestions and send them to me in an email, along with the backup data.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, still beaming.

  He walked out, shaking his head, not at her, but at himself. Inviting her into his personal space was courting disaster.

  Chapter Two

  Ashley arrived at work the next morning by 7:15, since she knew Ben arrived at 7:30. Karen, his secretary, was already there, her French twist in perfect order, her manicured nails tapping on the keyboard.

  “Good morning,” Ashley said breathlessly. “I baked some banana bread.” She set it on the counter of the wet bar.

  “I don’t eat wheat,” Karen said without looking up.

  “Oh,” she said, deflating slightly. “I’ll make it with rice flour next time. It tastes just as good—even better, really.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t eat in the morning.”

  So eat it for lunch.

  She squared her shoulders and headed for her office. The top floor was set up with Ben’s large windowed office in the corner, and smaller offices all around, all empty, except for hers. Karen sat at the reception desk outside. From what she understood, when Leon Stone had worked here, these offices all contained top managers—the CFO and vice presidents—but Ben had moved them all down a level when he took over because he liked the quiet. Obviously it hadn’t been a popular move, and had set the tone for his leadership.

  She had packed the things from her office on the fifth floor into a box the night before, so she began unpacking now, pinning pictures and cards to her bulletin board, and setting up framed photos.

  The elevator dinged and Mr. Stone emerged. She lifted her chin and hurried out. “Good morning, Mr. Stone. I baked some banana bread if you’d like some. It has chocolate chips.”

  His green eyes raked over her with a curious glint, but his “No,” was about as curt as it gets.

  “No, thank you?” she corrected. She didn’t know what made her dare it—just disappointment and frustration at the rebuff, she supposed.

  He stopped in his tracks, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “Is it your place to teach me manners, Ms. Bell?”

  She felt the blood drain from her face as her body went cold. “No, sir.”

  Then she saw it—the faint lift in one corner of his mouth. “No, thank you,” he amended and continued into his office. A shiver of excitement ran through her. What was that? Were they flirting? Why did she find his gruffness so darn appealing?

  She exhaled.

  Karen was looking at her with laughter in her expression.

  Not sure whether she was laughing at her or with her, she braved a return smile, trying for rueful. “I’ll be lucky if I make it through the day, at this rate,” she said.

  Karen seemed as silent as her boss, only smirking.

  “I can’t believe I got the job. How many people applied?”

  “I think he must have created it for you,” the older woman said, looking at her speculatively. “If you want to last, don’t stay out here and chit-chat. He hates noise. That was why he moved all the other offices downstairs.”

  “Okaaay,” she said. “Got it. Thanks.”

  She walked to her office. How would she survive up here with no one to talk to? She was, for the most part, a very social creature.

  She finished organizing her desk, which didn’t take long, since her cubicle downstairs had been tiny. This big office, with the windows overlooking downtown Denver, seemed stark and empty. She would need to buy some paintings for the walls or something.

  Her phone rang and she jumped, knocking the receiver over before she picked it up. “This is Ashley.”

  “Come into my office.”

  “Oh, ah, yes, sir,” she said. She started to put it down, then returned it to her ear to listen. Does one say ‘goodbye’ in this situation? The line was dead. Okay, clearly not. She grabbed a notebook and pen and headed into his office.

  “Sit,” he said.

  She didn’t attempt her doggy joke again as she settled into the chair across his desk.

  “Thank you for the report, and the additional ideas you sent at,” he checked his computer screen, “five in the morning.”

  Did she sense faint amusement there? She flushed. “I’m excited about this job.”

  He touched his fingers together. “I’m glad.” His face looked anything but glad, the firm lines of his jaw looking as stony as usual. “I’d like to begin to implement some of your suggestions. Arrange a meeting with the advertising agency to talk about our new campaign and get me a list of your recommended cuts from middle management.”

  She gaped. “Um… okay. So, do I invite sales and marketing to the advertising meeting?”

  He cocked his head. “What do you think?”

  She licked her lips and found his eyes on her mouth. Her heart picked up speed. Did he find her attractive? The idea came as one part thrilling and one part disappointing. If she’d landed this job only because he wanted to get into her pants… She shifted in her chair. Not that she was entirely opposed to letting him in her pants. Or skirt, as the case may be.

  With effort, she dragged her mind back to the rather overwhelming issues at hand. “Well…”

  “Talk through it out loud,” he said, circling his finger in the air. “I want to hear how you think.”

  Okay, maybe she had won this position fair and square.

  “Well, I’m thinking they bring a certain close-mindedness to things. I mean, they’re set in their ways about what they think we should be doing, and we’re trying to do something new. On the other hand, to go around them would totally ruffle feathers and make it harder to get buy-in.”

  Mr. Stone regarded her with cool assessment. Not surprisingly, he said nothing.

  “I guess, selfishly, I’d rather keep them out, at least initially, because I’m a
fraid all my ideas will get trashed.”

  “I appreciate your honesty, Ms. Bell.”

  She rubbed her lips together. “So what do you think?”

  “The choice is yours.”

  She gaped. “The choice is mine?”

  He nodded. “Make a good one.”

  Oh, God.

  She looked down at her notebook where she’d written down his direction. “And for the second one—I’m not sure I’m qualified to make that sort of assessment.”

  “Well, do what you need to do to get qualified. I’m asking you to make it.”

  “That’s a pretty huge responsibility; I mean, you want me to make a recommendation that affects people’s livelihoods.”

  “And the future of this company. Welcome to my world, Ms. Bell. Do you want to be my assistant or not?”

  She flushed and looked down at her paper to compose herself. “I do,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your faith in me.” When he said nothing, she amended, “Or maybe this is a test, in which case, I plan to pass it.” She lifted her chin.

  A smile flashed around both corners of his mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Go,” he said, with his characteristic curtness.

  She stood and walked to the door. Grasping the knob, she screwed up her courage and turned around. “Mr. Stone?”

  He turned from his computer screen and raised an eyebrow.

  “Did you hire me for this job because you actually think I show promise or is it because—” She stopped.

  He didn’t help, gazing at her with both eyebrows raised now.

  She swallowed. “Because you like the way I look in a skirt?”

  The smile flitted across his face and his eyes dropped to her skirt and down her legs.

  She flushed, wishing she hadn’t said it.

  “Get out, Ashley.”

  She actually laughed. Well, it was more a gasp for breath, or a sob. But it came out like a bubble of laughter. He’d called her by her first name, which felt like a success. And she loved the way it sounded in his deep, rich tones, evoking intimacy and… heat. She pushed the door open and stumbled out, relieved to be out of his intense presence. But the moment she shut the door, she missed it.