Bossing the Virgin: A Steamy Office Romance
Copyright
© 2017 Lila Younger
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Mikayla
Logan
Mikayla
Mikayla
Logan
Mikayla
Logan
Mikayla
Logan
Epilogue | Mikayla
Enjoy the first chapter of my book Yes Sir...
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About Lila Younger
Mikayla
It’s just another interview, I repeat to myself as I turn off the car. No big deal.
Only it is. A big deal that is. That’s why I’ve shown up almost twenty minutes early to it. I didn’t want an accident on the road or something else to make me late to it. I’ve done my fair share of interviews, ever since my first job at sixteen, but this job was different. This job could really help me make a name for myself. I couldn’t even believe it when I got the call telling me they were interested in interviewing me. The only reason I even heard about it was because an old family friend mentioned it and passed my resume along, but I assumed I would just get the generic ‘thank you for applying’ email followed by radio silence. Instead, two days later, I got the call to come in to Red Canyon Steakhouse’s headquarters for an interview.
My phone beeps and I pull it out of my purse. I turn it to silent and open up my text messages.
I’m not going to tell you good luck, because I know you don’t need it. I’ve already stocked up on chocolate and wine to celebrate :)
Thanks, I type back. I’ll let you know when I’m done.
I smile. Violet and I have been best friends since we sat beside each other on the bus to school. She’s the one who encouraged me to apply to culinary school, even though it seemed like a silly idea at the time. My parents took much longer to convince, even though I do almost all the cooking at home. If I could land this job though, I know that they will finally start to believe in me.
Red Canyon Steakhouse is an institution in these parts with many locations here and throughout the surrounding states. Growing up, it was the fancy restaurant that we would go to for birthdays, or when relatives visited, that sort of thing. They had these fancy leather booths and tablecloths and more spoons and forks than necessary. The waiters and waitresses were dressed smartly, and they knew how to recite all the fancy words on the menu. That sort of a place. Even though we haven’t been there in a while, it still stands tall in my memory. So to have a chance to become a chef for them, well, that’s just amazing.
I go over my answers to the common interview questions a few more times, then I open up my phone and click onto the job posting that I was told to apply at. I’m at bit short on the experience front, but the ‘driven and creative chef’ part describes me to a T. I’ve always known that becoming a chef wouldn’t be easy, but I’ve done it all on my own. That’s surely got to count for something. The idea that I’d be able to set my own menu, that I’d be able to make up new dishes for Red Canyon Steakhouse... all of that has my fingers itching. I check the clock again. Ten minutes. That’s close enough I think.
Pulling down the visor, I check the mirror one last time. I’m not big on the makeup and girliness front. It just doesn’t make sense in a hot kitchen. Most of the time, I just brush my hair back into a tight bun and call it good. Big hazel eyes stare back at me, framed by long lashes. Violet’s always declared that I’m lucky to never need mascara, but I figure it couldn’t hurt to put on a little for the interview. Satisfied that I don’t have any smudges, I push the visor back up, grab my purse, and head out of the car. The heels I’m wearing are just a little too high, or maybe I am nervous despite everything.
The secretary at the desk shows me to Mr. Leary’s office as soon as she hears my name, which sends the butterflies in my stomach fluttering. I didn’t expect to be seeing the owner of Red Canyon Steakhouse today, that’s for sure. The office is large and resembles an old English study. Two bookshelves flank a massive oak desk, filled with clothbound books, busts of famous people, and even a globe. Directly behind the desk hang plaques for various awards given to Red Canyon Steakhouse. The secretary announces me and closes the door.
“Welcome,” Mr. Leary says. “Have a seat Mikayla. You can call me Logan.”
Logan Leary is young, a lot younger than I expected. He’s only in his early thirties I think, and looks absolutely scrumptious in the black suit he’s wearing. He’s got definition that even his jacket can’t hide. Almost exactly like what I’d imagine if I was into the whole fuck your boss fantasy. Which I’m not. Probably shouldn’t be gawking over a guy who could be your boss soon, I chide myself, especially when I’ve always been told my face is an open book. For a fleeting moment, I almost wish I wouldn’t get the job, but squash the thought immediately. I want this. I need this. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I draw myself up, square my shoulders and hold out my hand for a firm handshake. His hand is warm and strong, and I almost don’t want to let go.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I remember to say. “Your dad was a great man.”
The elder Mr. Leary was very well known in the city, not just because of his restaurants, but by how he managed to transform his parent’s restaurant into a chain that spanned the entire region. He did it through the recession even, which makes it even more impressive, according to my dad.
Logan nods his head stiffly. He must still be torn up over it, I think sympathetically. I couldn’t imagine losing my dad. I put my purse down by my feet as he opens up a file with my information. I sneak a peek at his desk. It’s immaculate, with almost nothing on it to clutter it up. The only decorative item on there is a simple, silver picture frame. It’s pretty much the complete opposite of my own space at home, which is covered with post-it notes clustered around my laptop and half-finished food magazines piling up in the corner. My eyes dart up to his classically handsome features, then down at my hands. Way to pick a time to be nervous, I groan inwardly. Come on Mikayla! Good eye contact is important in an interview.
“So Mikayla,” Logan begins, and my eyes snap back to his. His gaze is dark and smoldering, making me feel things that have no place in an interview. I squeeze my fist to pull myself together. I’ve never felt so off balance at an interview before. “You’ve just graduated from culinary school.”
“That’s right,” I say, keeping my chin up. “However, I’ve worked in many kitchens before, and I have done catering before where I’ve been tasked with creating my own menu.”
“Can you give me an example menu for what you might serve if I wanted to hire you for a dinner party in two weeks?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say confidently. I outline a menu featuring local, fresh ingredients, giving a little twist to each. I try to keep my answer short and to the point, but it is food, and I can’t help but describe it, especially dessert. That’s okay though, because instead of looking bored, Logan looks almost hungry. “Of course, with the colder weathe
r lately, some of the ingredients can’t be guaranteed, but I try to do my best to go with the seasons when it comes to food. There’s nothing that can beat the taste of fresh.”
Logan nods appreciatively.
“Tell me,” he says. “When was the last time you visited a Red Canyon Steakhouse?”
I freeze momentarily. I want to say, ‘just the other day’ but honestly, it’s been a few years. Even though our state isn’t known for its cutting edge food scene, we’ve been swept up in the trend of farm to table and international fusion. There are so many wonderful new restaurants that it’s honestly been quite a while since I stepped into a Red Canyon Steakhouse. In all my preparation for the role, I hadn’t even thought to visit one of the restaurants.
“I’ll take your inability to remember to mean it’s been quite a while,” Logan says drily.
“Well, yes,” I confess. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like the food. I have many fond memories of celebrating birthdays there.”
“Unfortunately, that seems to be the case with most people,” he says, leaning forward. “Red Canyon Steakhouse has fallen behind on the times. In fact, we haven’t changed our menu since my father took over that first restaurant. And it shows. Nowadays, there are so many exciting options for food, like the kind you describe, that we are often put on a backburner. There’s nothing exciting on the menu, nothing to draw people in. But I want to change that. The menu you have, it’s exactly the direction that we want to be heading in. I want to update the restaurant, make Red Canyon Steakhouse the place to be again.”
“That sounds fantastic,” I say. “I would love to be given a chance to be a part of that.”
“There’s a lot of work to be done,” Logan says. “And obviously, since it’s across a whole chain of restaurants, there are restrictions on just how much you can do. I won’t be able to give you carte blanche to create as you please like you would if you were only cooking at one restaurant. Supply chains will sometimes dictate what we can and can’t put on the menu.”
“I understand. But that only adds to the challenge. It’s easy to be creative when you can do whatever. It’s much harder when there are rules,” I grin. I’m pretty excited at the prospect. I want to wow him, even if more than a little bit of that has to do with the job. I catch the smile on his face, and hope that it means I gave the right answer.
“Mikayla,” he says. “I think I’d like to offer you the job. When do you think you can start?”
“You- you do?” I ask, shocked that he’s already made the decision. “I would love to! I can start today even!”
He laughs.
“Well you don’t have to do that. How about tomorrow though? You’re one of the most important parts of this update, and I want to get you into the kitchen to see what you can do. There’s going to be a lot of paperwork for you to take home and fill out today too, which we will need as soon as possible. My secretary, Mrs. Stiller, can give you those.”
“Of course,” I say, blushing. “That’s wonderful. Thank you so much for the chance.”
Logan gets up and I do too. He holds out his hands again and we shake. His blue eyes capture mine, and it feels like he’s going to say more, but he releases my hand and moves around the desk to escort me out. I let go of the breath I’m holding and grab my purse, giving my head a little shake. What is wrong with me? Logan’s my boss. My boss of the dream job that I’ve wanted for forever. I can’t mess it up by mooning over him. I have to act professional.
Once we’re out of the office, Logan gives directions to Mrs. Stiller, then says goodbye and heads down the hall. She quickly goes over the paperwork. Logan wasn’t kidding. There’s a stack at least an inch or so thick. I already know that I’ll be spending most of the day going through it all, but I don’t care. I’m hired!
That night, I whip up a bacon carbonara while Violet uncorks one of her fancy wines. It’s a decadent meal that’s perfect for celebrating my new job. We throw ourselves down onto the couch and throw on the television to watch America’s Next Top Model while we eat. It’s a guilty pleasure for the two of us.
“To Mikayla’s new job!” Violet toasts.
“To finally getting off your couch!” I joke. I’ve been here only a few nights, but already my back is killing me.
“To new beginnings,” she says a little more solemnly.
“I’ll drink to that.” We drink our wine, and I pause.
“Hey,” I say softly. “Thanks for always being here for me.”
“What are friends for?” she says, smiling.
I’m really lucky to have Violet. When I discovered that my boyfriend Jake had cheated on me practically from the beginning of our relationship, I completely fell apart. Never mind how foolish I had been to believe that he would wait for me... I’d been dazzled by his wealth, the way he showered me with gifts and made me feel so special even if I wasn’t from the same social circle he was that I had looked past everything. It wasn’t until Violet showed me pictures that I finally had to face the music. Love had never come easy for me. I’m naturally shy, and it was easier to focus on school instead of trying to make dating work. I met Jake when I moved to the city for culinary school and completely fell head over heels. I almost dropped out of school for him. I couldn’t believe I’d almost let him convince me to give up on it.
Having my first boyfriend turn out to be such a douche, well, that just messes with a girl’s confidence. He’d taken everything else away from me, but I wasn’t going to let him take my dream too. So I put men to the side and made food the only thing in my life. After culinary school I felt rudderless. I’d applied at over a dozen places, but none of them wanted me. Hearing my classmates all find work made me start to doubt myself, and I ended up moving back home and working at a Denny’s for almost a year. I knew that if I wanted to become a great chef though, I had to come back to the city. So I asked Violet if I could crash on her couch and sent off another round of applications. I asked everyone I knew if they heard of any job openings. And here I am.
“So,” Violet says, leaning in. “What do you think about your new boss?”
My eyes fall down to my plate. Where to start? With the dreamy blue eyes? Or the perfect body and ass? Or with the fact that Logan reminded me a lot of Jake? He’s rich, powerful, and probably used to everyone listening to him and doing what he says. I can’t get involved with him, no matter how sexy he looks. My heart can’t stand to be broken in half like that again. I stab my pasta and twirl it onto my fork. Best not to think about Logan at all.
“He’s okay I guess. Kind of reserved. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him much.” Technically no lies were said, but I still felt as though I was lying to my best friend, just a little.
Logan
I am more confident in my plan once I hired Mikayla for the job. To be honest, she wouldn’t have been my first pick. Fresh out of culinary school, not too much experience under her belt; it all added up to a big gamble. But I’d already interviewed a more chefs than I can count, and none of them could accurately describe the direction that I wanted to take Red Canyon Steakhouse. More than a few of them were concerned about changing the menu at all. But complacency was the reason we were in this mess to begin with. Even restaurants need to keep up with the times.
It has nothing to do with those perfect lips and mile long legs, I tell myself. I almost believe it. Not that I was about to step over the bounds of professional ethics. The company has enough shit to deal with. The last thing that I needed was for the board and everyone else to lose faith in me and hand the company over to some guy who would squeeze everything he could out of the company my father started before selling it off.
I always knew that someday I would become owner and CEO of Red Canyon Steakhouse. My father had drilled it into me ever since I was a kid. Back then, I would come home after school every day and do my homework at the table between lunch and dinner service, when the restaurant was quiet except for the sounds of the chefs in the kitchen prepping for dinner.
Then, at five, when the first diners would start trickling in, my aunt would come pick me up to go home so that my parents could keep working into the night.
Family dinners weren’t a thing in my household. Instead it would be family breakfasts, where my dad would go and talk about the restaurant and explain to me how things were done. I’d done my fair share. When I turned sixteen, I became a dishwasher; at eighteen, when I went to college, I became a waiter. When I was getting my MBA, I was assistant manager at one of the smaller branches near campus. There was no such thing as a free ride with my dad. He’d worked too hard for every cent and he wanted his boy to know that same lesson. ‘Nothing is a replacement for cash earned with your own hands son,’ I can still hear him saying to me. At the time I resented my dad for it. We were clearly doing well. At that point, Red Canyon Steakhouse was opening new branches left and right. Now though, I’m glad for it. If I didn’t know how to run a restaurant inside and out, I know we don’t have a rat’s chance in hell of getting out of the mess we’re in.
“How could he have let all this happen?” I mutter to myself.
But I do know how. My father died of a heart attack at his desk. He was working late that night, like most nights, and hadn’t been found until the next morning. It was too late then. According to my mom though, what killed him was the stress. He had kept her, and everyone else, in the dark about the true nature of things. She thought he was planning on taking the chain national, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, we had expanded too quickly, and we hadn’t been able to scale our operations to keep up. The standard had slipped at Red Canyon Steakhouse, and with it, our profits. I’m heading to a meeting right now to see just how bad it all really is.
I enter into the meeting room, and steel myself for bad news. The grim faces on my staff say it all. Each of them has a piece of the puzzle, but because my dad handled everything, nobody knew just how bad things were. Until now. Until I stepped in. I wasn’t going to do things like my father did. He was a great man, but he was also a control freak, and that just doesn’t work in a company with more than a handful of restaurants. There are just too many moving pieces to keep track of. Add to that the shoddy bookkeeping, and well, it’s a miracle our doors are still open.