His Dirty Demands Read online

  His Dirty Demands

  Fiona Murphy

  Published by Fiona Murphy, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  HIS DIRTY DEMANDS

  First edition. February 23, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Fiona Murphy.

  ISBN: 978-1386937395

  Written by Fiona Murphy.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  1

  January

  Alicia

  Grover begins yipping below my desk. He gives me four seconds before the yipping turns into frantic barking. I swear this dog, it’s a Darwin survival thing he’s so freaking cute. A tiny chihuahua, he has black eyes that are ridiculously big against his white fur. I’m up and open the window to the fire escape, where he dashes up the back of the chair placed there for him to get outside. He pees on the small square of Astroturf he prefers over going for a walk and dealing with cement and cold temperatures.

  Seconds later he’s back inside, shaking his little body to get the cold off. He looks up at me with those big eyes as his tiny body shivers. Getting the message, I bend down to open the little chest that holds his sweaters and toys. The sweaters are courtesy of Bethany’s knitting skills. Bethany is my little sister and the person to blame for Grover’s presence in my life. It’s been five years since I came home and found Grover cradled in her arms. Even as I was shaking my head, between them both staring up at me with big, pleading eyes I didn’t stand a chance. It went from “until we find his owners” to the little dog crawling into my heart, and we never did find his previous owners.

  Carefully, I put him into a sweater. He licks my face in thanks. I laugh as I rub his head. His needs seen to, he goes back to his little bed under my desk. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing he hates walks. As I attempt to stand, my right knee protests and I decide it’s a good thing. It’s ridiculous something as minor as a slip on a small patch of ice still hurts almost nine years later. What’s even more ridiculous is it didn’t even break, although when it gets cold like it is now, it feels like it did.

  As I sit back down at my desk, I try not to groan as I turn my attention back to the bills I’ve been paying. I promised months ago I would fund the plane ticket for Bethany’s first real vacation she’s taken in years, to Disneyland for spring break. And I will, only I won’t be able to put money into Bethany’s master’s program savings this month. No matter how many sites I check the cost of a plane ticket to California is almost twice what I thought it would be. There’s also the fact that I’m trying to get back on track after having to sink almost five hundred dollars into my sister’s car for a water pump leak three weeks ago. Which happened right after I broke down and bought the insanely expensive phone Bethany hinted at wanting for Christmas.

  When my phone rings, it startles me because aside from Bethany I don’t get many calls. “Hello,” I answer as I check the display. Huh, I wonder why my boss’s sister is calling me. Maybe she has another order for a quilt.

  “Hey, Alicia. It’s Jeanine. I’m wondering how happy you are working for Zack?” Um, talk about a loaded question. It’s totally a Jeanine kind of question though, straight to the point, blunt enough some people called her rude. She’s just like her brother. “Sorry, I could have asked the question better. For the record, I talked to Zack before this call to make sure it was okay. I’m looking for my own replacement. I was supposed to go on maternity leave, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going back to work. You know I work for Dante Sabatini, right? He’s a great guy, but he’s got his... issues. I mean he’s a billionaire, he and his brother worked their asses off to make their money, and they didn’t get that way by playing nice. You’ve heard of them, right?”

  My palms start sweating at where it sounds like this is going. Of course, I’ve heard of them. They are top dogs in Chicago. There are three of them, and two work together as heads of a real estate firm for both residential and commercial that has bought, sold, and owned some of the most striking property in Chicago. “Of them, yeah. I mean they own a pretty large portion of Chicago.”

  “Dante prefers residential real estate and Cesare mainly handles the commercial side. Dante is the nicer and sweeter of the two of them, for sure. Then again, it’s probably because he’s the youngest Sabatini. Cesare is the oldest, and he started it all; he’s the tougher of the two but he isn’t so bad once he warms up to you. Cesare told Dante I’m getting my maternity leave pay and my second quarter bonus even though I’m leaving.

  “The plan, in the beginning, was to take off the three months of paid maternity leave. Then there was the option of either doing another three months at eighty percent of my pay or working thirty-two hours at my full pay. Except the more Bobby and I discussed it, the more appealing the idea has grown of moving to St. Louis. His parents are excited and want to be around to help. That and we could actually afford a house with a backyard in St. Louis. Dante is a sweetheart about the whole thing, all he wants is for me to be the one to hire my replacement. What do you think?”

  Even though I saw it coming from a mile away, it’s a shock for Jeanine to say it. “I, um... I’m not even sure how to answer.”

  Her gasp is loud in my ear. “What is there to think about? Oh, sorry. I forgot the most important part: you’ll be making seventy-five grand a year, and that doesn’t include the quarterly bonuses which will put you over a hundred grand for the year. Your paid time off days start at forty-five a year, then go up by five days after five years, then another five days every five years after that. You only get to roll over five days, and unlike other companies, they actually want you to use your PTO—if you get to the end of October with more than five days unscheduled, HR sits you down with a calendar to select days off. While it’s not hard, there are times it can be demanding because, well, Dante and Cesare are demanding.”

  “You really think I’m good enough for this position? Me?” Shock bubbles up inside me. Me, working for a billionaire?

  “Of course, I do. I wouldn’t be calling you if I didn’t. You’re my first and only call. Zack doesn’t compliment people lightly, but he’s had nothing but praise for you ever since you started working for him. I’m sure you didn’t know he was nervous as hell to be a first year principal when he hired you. To hear him tell it he couldn’t have accomplished everything he has without your help. Why in the world do you think you aren’t good enough?”

  Huh, Zack never said anything like that to me. Zack is the principal of a middle school. Being his assistant was my first job once I had my degree. With no previous work experience except crappy waitressing jobs, it seemed safe. A secure job in the school system, time off during the summer, a steady if not great wage, with excellent medical benefits and a pension—the idea of leaving only ever crossed my mind fleetingly after a rough week. “I don’t know. I graduated from the University of Illinois here in Chicago, not a fancy school. I’m not sure I would fit in working for a billionaire, let alone a billionaire who looks like Dante Sabatini. Wouldn’t he be disappointed with the way I look?”

  “What?” Crap, I’m squirming so badly the chair protests beneath my fat ass. I believe in being honest in all things and honestly, I’m fat. A size
sixteen who can’t afford the good clothes. The only thing I have going for me is my height: at five foot nine the weight is fairly well distributed, with a good amount going to my breasts and ass. “Alicia, I know it’s not easy carrying a few extra pounds, but you are a pretty woman. I don’t understand why you would think your weight would mean you wouldn’t fit in. While, yes, appearances are important enough you’ll have an allowance for clothing every month, all Dante and Cesare really care about is that you do a good job. Hannah, Cesare’s assistant, has a burn scar that covers her left cheek and down her neck. She’s also African-American and has her hair buzzed close, as she says she’s over messing with all that nonsense. Every once in a while she’ll wear a wig that catches her attention until she gets bored with it. You could show up five sizes bigger than you are, and the only thing Dante would care about is if you came in wearing a wrinkled shirt.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I know you’re good enough because Zack believes it. He’s not happy about losing you, but he knows this is the best thing for you. So... are you interested?”

  Hope begins bubbling up in my tummy and I can’t wipe the goofy grin off my face at Jeanine’s no-nonsense compliments. “Yes, please.”

  “Great, you had me worried for a minute there. Dante is super busy tomorrow—Mondays are usually busy. Are you good to come in on Tuesday afternoon? Zack is cool with you calling in.”

  I owe Zack. He’s always been great, but this is beyond anything I would have imagined. “Then, yes. What time?”

  “How about two o’clock?”

  “Okay, yes, two o’clock.”

  “All right, no need to bring a resume or anything. Just wear the nicest, most professional outfit you have. As sexist as it sounds, a skirt or dress is best. Dante and Cesare prefer women to dress like women, they can be a little old-fashioned that way. You can do leggings under it though. It is January in Chicago.”

  I’m already flipping through my meager wardrobe. “I will.”

  “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

  “Yes, and Jeanine, thank you so much for this. I really appreciate it.”

  “You earned it. I know you’re good for it.”

  My heart continues pounding for minutes after Jeanine ends the call. I do a search on the Dante and Cesare. Like I told Jeanine, I know of them as with their looks and their money, they’ve made the gossip page in the Tribune often and the front page with some of their deals almost monthly. However, they don’t like reporters, have never posed for pictures or done interviews. Their company is private, without any plans of ever going public.

  The more I read about them the more I’m afraid to get my hopes up. Seventy-five grand. I only make forty-six thousand a year now paid monthly, so I don’t go hungry over the summer months. Half of my take-home pay goes to my rent. The other half goes to bills and Bethany’s rent and her bills and food. If it weren’t for me making quilts to request and selling others online, and trading stocks very, very carefully, I wouldn’t be able to afford groceries. Getting this job could change everything.

  ***

  I look up to find a woman staring at my hand as if she wants to smack it. Immediately I still my hand from the drumming that inspired the hate glare. I smile weakly. I’ve been sitting here for almost twenty minutes. I check my watch for the fifth time in the last four minutes. Even though I still have almost ten minutes until my meeting with Dante Sabatini, if I don’t go up now, I’m going to spontaneously combust from nerves.

  The elevator is already opening as I walk up to it. A few other people get on, but no one has pressed the button for the seventy-fourth floor, where I’m going. Eyes down, I fiddle with the temporary badge I was given at the security desk before I was allowed to get more than ten steps inside the huge glass doors. One by one the elevator empties, then shoots up to my floor.

  I look up from my watch at the sound of the doors opening. Cesare Sabatini is there, filling the doors of the elevator. There’s a private elevator only he, Dante, Enzo, Jeanine and Hannah have access to, so I wasn’t expecting him in three-dimensional living, breathing color less than five feet from me. That has to explain why my breath is stuck in my chest. He’s huge. Bigger, bolder, darker than the pictures I’ve seen. A snow-white shirt against a black silk tie that matches the suit he’s wearing, heightens the rich glow of his olive skin. Despite his suit obviously being cut to fit, it doesn’t hide the muscle that ripples beneath it as he brushes a hand through his silky black hair. I follow the movement, my eyes drawn to the glowing silver at his temples.

  The air around him vibrates with raw masculinity. Even wearing a silk suit perfectly tailored to him and shoes I recognize as being handcrafted, beneath the surface that screams money is a hint of something utterly primitive. Especially when it’s clear his hawkish nose has been broken and reset. Vaguely I wonder who in the world had the guts to take a swing at him. A face of harsh angles and planes has no right to be beautiful—it’s not a word that should fit him. Yet it does, because somehow his heavily lined forehead, squared jaw and sharp cheekbones combine into a visage so stunning he doesn’t seem real. There is only one flaw: a thin beard covering the skin of his jaw. I resent the beard for hiding a single inch of skin when something deep down inside me longs to see all of him. His lips catch and hold my attention, thick, wide, and sensual. I wonder how they would feel against mine.

  The moment the thought is out, I wonder where the hell it came from. It’s completely unlike me. I feel a blush wash over face. Those lips spread slowly into a predatory smile as his black eyes glisten with intent. My heart doesn’t flutter, it pounds like a jackhammer—enough to shock me back to almost normal.

  “Cesare Sabatini, how may I help you?” His voice is smoky and deep rumbling out of his broad chest. He leans against the elevator door to keep it open, as casual as he appears there is a tension in him I feel in the air. Jeanine had pronounced his name the same way—"Chezeray”—yet the way he says it, with the lightest of an Italian accent, turns it into something erotically unique. Instantly it calls up fantasies of him whispering naughty, dirty things in my ear.

  “Alicia Jeffries. I’m here to meet with Dante about the personal assistant position?” Shit, it sounds like a question and could I sound any more breathless?

  His smile disappears as his eyes shutter closed. My senses trip at the sudden change in the air, in him. Even as I’m wondering what I did wrong, he looks to the women at the main reception desk. “Katherine, see Ms. Jeffries to Dante’s office.”

  He steps back, pointedly giving me room to exit the elevator. I step out, oddly hurt at his dismissal. Without a look back he’s in the elevator. “Good day, Ms. Jeffries.”

  I blink, and the doors close. What just happened? What was that? My thoughts are cut short by the older woman with brassy red hair behind the desk sighing loudly. “Come on, I don’t have time for you to moon over the boss.”

  A younger woman with blonde hair smirks at me from behind the desk as I follow the redhead. She moves fast ahead of me. The one-inch-heel black leather knee-high boots I paired with the long-sleeve gray cashmere sweater dress allow me to keep up with her, barely. The office isn’t nearly as staid and boring as I imagined. One wall is a bright mural of Michigan Avenue with the lions smiling in front of the Art Institute. In the center, the cubicles are open and white. Unlike the office setup where it seems like every inch is used, there are only four in a square with at least twenty feet between six cubicles.

  I note a large break room with a row of vending machines with fresh food and frozen along one wall, and a long wall of coffee makers and tea on offer. There is a small conference room with seating for maybe four or five people. Across the hall is a larger conference room with seating for at least twenty people. Both rooms are made of glass, with the lower half frosted.

  It takes a minute to realize the hallway is formed from a long office, the only place where there is wood and solid sheet rock. In front of the office is a seating area of plus
h silk sofas in gray. There is another hallway that I see ends in with two doors I can tell are bathrooms. Another office is on the right and it’s clear it’s the corner office with more wood and sheet rock protecting it from interested eyes. The desk in front of the one on the left has Jeanine smiling at me. The desk on the right has a smiling African-American woman somewhere in her fifties studying me openly.

  Before I can even say thank you, the redhead is gone again. I look at Jeanine. It’s been almost a year since I last saw her, when she came to an event to honor Zack as best principal in Illinois. Her sandy blonde hair is in a pixie cut that fits her small, lithe frame perfectly. Despite her being almost eight months pregnant, her baby bump is barely there. “Ignore Katherine. She resents doing anything she deems beneath her. I swear Cesare makes her do stuff just to annoy her. Take a deep breath, you look like you’re about to fall over. You also look great. Remember, I told you this is a formality. Dante was pleased with your resume. He talked to Zack yesterday and I don’t know what the hell Zack said but it clinched Dante wanting you. There are a few questions he has for you though. Go on in.”

  Opening the door, I’m not sure what to expect after my encounter with Cesare. When I see him, relief pours through me. While Dante Sabatini is attractive, he pales in comparison to Cesare. Although it’s clear they are brothers, with the same chin and brow, Dante doesn’t have nearly as many frown lines and his nose is thinner without it ever having been broken. And while tall somewhere around six foot one, he’s at least three inches shorter than his brother and not nearly as broad shouldered.

  I step deeper into an office so big I’m pretty sure my one-bedroom apartment is only bigger by maybe five feet. Light streams through the huge wall of glass behind him. Impressive. Dante Sabatini stands with a welcoming smile as he offers his hand. His grip is strong, firm, warm. He motions for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk. “Thank you so much for meeting with me, Mr. Sabatini.”

  “How could I not? Jeanine sang your praises, your resume is excellent, and your boss told me I would be a dumbass not to hire you.” I blush at the idea of Zack calling Dante Sabatini a dumbass. Dante laughs. “It was refreshing—no one but my brothers has questioned my intelligence in years. Did Jeanine give you the full lay of the land?”