The Master's Plan Read online

  The Master’s Plan

  by

  Lesley Ann

  Copyright

  EBook Edition

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person. No part of this book may be copied or shared, unless a small excerpt or blurb is needed for review or marketing purposes. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2023 Lesley Ann and Midas Jinx

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  The Master’s Plan

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  About THE MASTER’S PLAN

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  The End

  Review, reviews, reviews!

  About the author

  Catch Lesley Ann online

  Other books by Lesley Ann

  Acknowledgements

  I love writing contemporary romance stories. I especially love office romance ones. It does my heart good to swoon over a sexy CEO, or to snort at the antics of an sassy assistant. I write these books for readers like me who just. can’t. get. enough.

  Also, this book is for the people (especially women) who get told they curse too much. I am one such person. And so is Jerry, the heroine in this story. Let’s all stand together on this issue, and tell the judging ba$t@¬d$ to pigg off! ;)

  I’d love for you to sign up for my newsletter, and like my Facebook page.

  Happy reading!

  About THE MASTER’S PLAN

  They call him The Master because everyone's in awe of his business savvy. I call him my obnoxious new boss, the grumpy b@stard with no people skills and a knack for making women's knickers drop. Sebastian Masterson has everything money can buy, and no one dare refuse him anything... until me. He hates it, I’m fairly sure. I annoy him with both my professionalism and my ability to be a hot mess at any given moment.

  Well, the feeling’s mutual, buddy.

  Things change between us when I’m breaking into his garden (as part of my job, of course) and I accidentally catch him screwing his latest woman. For some unknown reason it puts me on his radar. That’s my first mistake.

  He says that he wants me. And I tell him he can’t have me because HELLO? He’s a rich, arrogant billionaire who scowls at lot. Have I mentioned he hates to lose? So, he makes me an offer I can't refuse. His plan is devious and beautiful, allowing me the closure, and okay revenge, I crave. So, I become his fake fiancé. That’s my second mistake.

  My third? Well, that would be the moment all the fake kisses, thong twanging, and scrumptious @rgasms become too real for me. It’s my fatal mistake and there’s no way I’m going to survive his new charm offensive. No way in Hell. And then I wonder, do I even want to?

  Chapter One

  Okay, seeing my new boss fucking his latest squeeze shouldn’t have shocked me as it did. And yes, all right, I probably shouldn’t have been standing at the patio door of his sprawling townhouse in Kensington, rooted to the spot because I’d been attempting to break in, either. Whatever way you explored those facts, I was buggered.

  Except, I have to say, the show in front of me had me riveted and completely distracted. Maybe I didn’t care that I was definitely getting fired if he ever found out about this.

  I mean, he was... well, he was... gifted. I waved my hand in front of my face. Was this late November weather turning for the better? I felt warmer than I did a few minutes ago. I touched the silky white fabric of my blouse and bellowed the collar a little, allowing a little chilly air to hit my cleavage in a welcome blast.

  I sighed, focusing my scattered brain and smoothed down my black, knee-length pencil skirt. I wasn’t flustered. And I really needed this job after the shit show that happened across the pond. I also didn’t need a criminal record, either. There were probably laws about spying on your boss after breaking into his back garden in a mortifying attempt to redeem yourself.

  I’m not a bad person, honestly. Probably stupid at times, but not bad. I simply have the worst luck ever, it seems.

  Today things were going swimmingly with the new boss. I hadn’t seen him all day and he couldn’t give me that scowl that he so often did. You know the one. It said, I’m really not sure why I hired you, Jerry. Maybe I need another personal assistant before you wreck my entire office? He did that one a whole lot. Sometimes it wasn’t justified. Other times? Absolutely.

  See, the thing is, I’m actually a great personal assistant. I have references and years of experience. And I know I wouldn’t have gotten this job unless I checked out. My new boss is relentless in his pursuit of perfection.

  And I was his perfection, if only for a few moments in the interview. Then, as soon as I started work at his prestigious construction company, things went downhill fast.

  Probably doesn’t help that I’m a klutz. Things just tended to happen around me and I can’t do a damn thing to control them. And the more nervous and irritated he made me, the worse it became.

  And that absolutely drove him mad. I just knew he was biding his time before firing me because, for the most part, I was a damn good member of his executive team. I simply had a lot of moments where I was less so.

  The root cause of my current predicament was sitting right there in my hand. The document had arrived this morning and had quickly been buried under the mass of files brought up from HR when they’d purged their systems of all obsolete personnel, and it was my job to oversee the physical deleting of each individual file. Of course, there were better uses of my time than shredding these pages, but it had been suggested that I do it by the big boss. I think he was trying to make me quit. Of course, I wouldn’t. But, either way, there was a lot of paperwork on my desk. That was error number one.

  And then I’d found the memo he’d left on my desk this morning before he’d left for the day. The fact he still used paper when he had the electronic world at his fingertips, was a bit of a mystery. He was old-school, I guess. Or maybe it was another way to push me out on my ear? So yes, that memo was under my coffee cup. And yes, I might have mopped up my spill with it, too. That was error number two.

  How was I to know it contained instructions to send a time-sensitive contract to his home address as soon as it arrived? It would have been nice for him to have at least mentioned this in passing before he left the office right after I arrived this morning. Or emailed. Or a dozen other ways to communicate with his assistant. The only thing he did was scowl at me, look me up and down, and lift his chin.

  All I’m saying is where is the common courtesy? Bastard.

  Error number three had run fast on its heels by me having an amazing idea to go to the dreaded boss’s house myself and put it through his door. Only, he didn’t have a letter box. Who in the blue hell buys a multi-million-pound house and then forgets to have a letter opening attached to the door or somewhere on the damn property?

  Obviously, my boss. Why should he trouble his pretty little brain with such menial things?

  So now here I was, on a Friday afternoon at the end of November. Standing in the back garden of the one man I really shouldn’t be, in a posh part of London.

  My heels had sunk into the perfectly manicured lawn as I’d trotted as fast as I could around the back of the house without breaking my neck because, of course, the back gate was open and I was pretty absent on common sense when it came to keeping my job.

  It was a job I really needed. I’d run away in order to lick my very open, very painful wounds. And I’d thrown myself completely at this opportunity as soon as I’d found out about it through a mutual acquaintance.

  I had been warned that he wouldn’t be an easy employer to work for. Of course, I had. That was nothing new. Most of the successful employers I’d had definitely had their quirks.

  But I hadn’t thought a thing about it until he demanded I do the same hours as him, have coffee available on a conveyor belt, and not be allowed to be human—only a robot. I’d actually thought this would be a step up from the shit show I’d been employed at in New York, a few short months ago.

  The thought of my last boss simultaneously made me angry and sad and I dismissed the rogue thoughts before they made me even more depressed than I was. I swiped at my heated forehead, recounting my stupidity over the past minutes.

  "I need this job,” I’d chanted to myself as I’d tried first the back door, then the patio door. "I’m simply doing this to keep that job.” I again reminded myself. There was a lot of competition for work in this city. And I needed to survive after pretty much leaving my life back in the States and starting afresh. "This is part of my job,” I tried to tell myself again.

  And this document was time sensitive. I knew, from my recent dealings with Sebastian Masterson, that this could be the end of the line if he found out I fucked up. I wasn’t go
ing to test my luck with him on this.

  He was definitely a lion waiting to pounce when it came to me. I could feel it, sense it even with the way he looked at me. I shuddered, finding that thought excited me more than it should.

  My phone chirped a message and I scrambled in my small bag to find it. God, what if he hears me out here? I knew the blood had drained out of my face. Because that would be bad. So very bad.

  I needed to dump this document and run. But where?

  I glanced at my phone quickly to make sure it wasn’t important. It was Honey. I sighed, quickly reading the text. She was asking me to dinner.

  Since I’d come back into the country, our Friday night dinners had become a regular thing. Leo and her were the only family I had, and now that she was involved with the very delicious Ty Falco, she was happier than ever. I quickly responded and dropped my phone back in the bag because I would forget if I didn’t do it immediately.

  And I was pleased for her if a whole lot jealous. Especially after—no I wasn’t going to go there again. I was a fucking fool, I pivoted to stomp away from the house, thinking I should get off his land so I could think straight again, and stopped, dead at the slight movement just out of my periphery.

  My gaze slowly lifted and I saw a state-of-the-art camera pointing my way.

  "Fu-ck.” Now what was I going to do? "Fuckity, fuck, shitting balls,” I chanted in frustration.

  I’d no doubt been seen so I had to confront him and drop the damn file with him.

  I turned again to face the house in an attempt to wiggle the file through the small cat flap, then text him that I’d done, but stopped.

  Sebastian Masterson was standing there, almost naked, observing me from the window.

  "Oh, my fucking God.” I wasn’t sure whether I was more concerned at being caught by my grumpy-arsed boss having broken into his back garden, or the fact that I could see the outline of his cock underneath the short towel he’d slung around his hips.

  Okay, yeah, I was pretty sure the latter was the priority here.

  I didn’t honestly know what to do. I was rooted to the spot and my jaw had gone slack.

  Think, Jer’, think.

  "Miss Roberts. What a surprise.” The door was open and there was nowhere to run. Believe me, my mind considered and dismissed every possible avenue of escape.

  And he didn’t seem in the slightest bit embarrassed at me seeing him there. Visions of him pushing the beautiful blonde woman over the back of that ugly long chair and fucking her bombarded me.

  My skin flamed and it annoyed me. I didn’t get embarrassed. That wasn’t me. Yeah, I did stupid things on occasion, but I owned it. Completely. For some reason, I was flustered with this situation. With him.

  Fuck.

  I lifted my chin and smiled. "Mr. Masterson.” I purred and it annoyed the shit out of me that my body and voice were reacting to him.

  His brow lifted and I clenched a fist at my reaction.

  What was wrong with me? This was my boss. I was his very well-paid employee. He didn’t need me going all gooey over his penis in a tight towel, that he’d carefully draped around himself after having sex with a gorgeous woman who was now, I noticed, nowhere to be found.

  My inner temperature rose again but I was determined not to show it.

  "Mr. Masterson. I have your file here.” I thrust the brown file out towards him, keeping my eyes very much on his.

  I wasn’t a prude, but God damn, his muscled chest could have made me find religion at even the mere thought of getting to lick him.

  "Are you listening to me, Miss Roberts?”

  I blinked at the man in front of me and nodded, quickly. Of course, I was bloody well listening. Wasn’t I? What had he said? Something about over-zealous assistants traipsing around his back garden?

  "What?” I belatedly, said, furrowing my brow. "I am not over-zealous. I simply knew you needed this document quickly and wanted to drop it off to you personally. If you’d had a letter box at the front of the house, I wouldn’t be here, right now, seeing you—” I cut myself off before I got myself into any more issues.

  "Seeing me, what, Miss Roberts?” I surveyed him carefully and saw amusement dancing across his pretty baby blues. Son of a bitch. He was enjoying making me uncomfortable.

  "Seeing you at less than your best,” I said loud enough for the neighbours to probably hear.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and I noticed a tattoo snaking around from his back and over his shoulder, then. I swallowed. Was it possible for this man to be any hotter than he already was?

  "Less than my best?” His deep voice was soft, sexy and my breath caught. "And what would my best entail, Miss Roberts?”

  I was getting in to no-man’s-land here and I didn’t know how to get myself back out of it. "Dressed, for starters,” I said at last. Relieved to have my voice not completely abandon me.

  "I’m fairly sure I’m allowed to be dressed however I choose in my own home, Miss Roberts.”

  "It’s Jerry, if you don’t mind.” Fucking Miss Roberts. I hated that he always called me that. "And I know you’re allowed. It’s just unexpected to stumble upon you and your—” I shut my big fucking mouth.

  "My what, Jerry?” He wasn’t trying to hide his amusement any longer, his lips quirked up in a sexy smile and the effect was truly devastating. And my name on his lips did funny things to my toes. Damn appendages, never listening to me.

  I clamped my mouth shut and refused to answer.

  Long seconds passed and I was acutely aware that I was still standing on his back doorstep while he was semi-naked. And I was so close to his penis I was in reaching distance, if I was so inclined. Which, I hated to admit, I absolutely was, despite him being the arsehole of all arseholes.

  I chastised myself for even thinking about his cock. I needed this job, at least for the time being until I got myself together again after the big transatlantic move I’d just undertaken. And, yes, the other stuff.

  "Anyway, I need to get back to the office,” I said under my breath. Glad that I’d at last thought of something relevant to say to this weird conversation.

  "No, since you’re here, you might as well help me with some work.” He stepped back out of the doorway and walked into the house.

  I admired his firm backside as it disappeared along the corridor, yet I still stood stock still. My brain searched for something to say that would get me out of this.

  "Sorry, I have a prior appointment,” I shouted to no one as he’d already gone.

  "No, you don’t. Come in.” His head popped around a doorway and he watched me.

  Still, I hesitated. This was bad news. I’d just been lusting after him and now he was inviting me into his house to work? I shook the rogue thoughts away. There was nothing wrong with this situation, really. He was my workaholic boss and he’d seen an opportunity for me to work more. I should expect that sort of thing from him by now.

  I sighed, at last stepping into the house and closing the door behind me. He was still there, a small smile playing across his lips.

  "Make me some coffee, Jerry. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried my best not to get snarky with him and tell him what he could do with his bloody coffee.

  I stomped into the kitchen, which was the room right off the hallway where I was standing, and took in all its prettiness. All the appliances had that new sheen on them, nothing was out of place. There wasn’t a spot wrong with this picture.

  "I don’t use the room except to make coffee.” He nodded towards a fancy machine that was already brewing his chosen nectar.

  My mouth dropped open again as I saw what he’d changed into. A pair of shorts. And he was holding a white t-shirt in his hands. I didn’t know if that was much better than his towel, to be honest. I was still acutely aware that he was probably naked or thereabouts under the clothes.

  And why the Hell wasn’t he in a suit as always? It was off-putting and I didn’t like the way my body reacted to him.

  No siree, I didn’t like it one little bit. Jerry Roberts wasn’t about to get toasted alive again by a hard penis and a sexy smile. Nope. Not again. I let out a sigh and breathed a bit easier. Now that I had that bit sorted out with myself, everything would be fine.