Booked solid, p.1
Booked Solid, page 1
BOOKED SOLID
WRITTEN BY ROXY GRAY
Copyright © 2019 by Roxy Gray. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the Publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Stock Image by Christian Buehner on Unsplash.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
1
___
THE INTERVIEW
“Two tequilas please,” Chloe shouts to the bartender, elbowing herself into a visible space at the counter.
“Being short sucks. I’m always the last one to be served at these places,” she grumbles as she turns to me.
The bartender finally places two shots in front of us and Chloe smiles.
“See? He saw you just fine,” I nudge her.
“Yeah, right. He must have just been sick of hearing me complain.”
We clink glasses and bring them to our lips, swallowing the bitter liquid in one gulp.
Chloe grimaces as she drinks, her eyes squinting shut in disgust. She takes a minute to recover.
“Okay, I’m ready to dance now!” She states, pulling me by the arm to the over-crowded dance floor.
This is my worst nightmare.
As a self-proclaimed introvert, I hate going out. There are a million things I would rather do than be pushed into a sea of sweaty, gyrating bodies. All of the women here seem to have a common goal of locating and luring in the hottest men from the crowd, just so they can have a dick to keep them warm tonight.
Not my thing.
Tonight isn’t about me, though. Chloe’s boyfriend just dumped her, and it’s my job as her friend to be supportive, even if the little voice in my head is telling me to go home and change into sweats.
“I love this song!” Chloe exclaims as she bounces loosely to the hard-hitting beat. Her long, red hair whips back and forth, almost hitting me in the face.
Yup, she’s definitely had way too much to drink already.
What I really should be doing on this Wednesday night is scouring job listings in the city. I graduated two months ago with a Business degree and haven’t been able to land a single job offering more than minimum wage. My savings are shrinking, and pretty soon I won’t be able to pay my half of the rent for the tiny place Chloe and I share.
“Come on, shake that sexy ass!” She says, tracing my hips with her hands until I begin to move with her.
“Kill me now,” I mutter under my breath.
I dance with Chloe for two songs, her movements becoming increasingly sloppy. She finally lets go, and I decide I need a break.
“I’m going to get us some cocktails. I’ll be back. Stay right here!” I shout over the music, which is now complemented by an array of multi-coloured lights. They flash from the direction of the DJ on stage.
Chloe bobs her head, only half-hearing me. As I head to the bar, I look back and notice her dancing with a guy. He’s pretty good looking too; should keep her occupied for a while.
“Can I get you a drink?”
I turn as a deep voice sounds near my ear, sending shivers down my spine despite the temperature of the room. I don’t bother to turn my head.
“That’s okay, I’m here with a friend,” I say, glancing at Chloe, who is now grinding against her new find on the dance floor.
“She looks a little busy,” he says. This time, I turn to face him, noticing his mouth curl at the corners.
“Okay, fine. One drink,” I concede, sinking onto a barstool. My feet thank me, though they’re probably swollen by now from being stuffed into Chloe’s too small heels.
“What kind of drink do you want?” The mystery guy asks. I’d almost forgotten he was here.
“Oh,” I say, pausing to think. “Something sweet and fruity.”
As he orders, I finally look at him. Dirty blonde hair, a muscular physique that’s apparent even through his white button-down, and a face that is somehow both rugged and man-pretty. He’s clean-shaven with a defined jaw, his pink lips framing pearly white teeth.
Definitely out of my league.
I stare down at my short, curvaceous figure, wondering why someone like him would approach me of all people. All I really have going for me is my round ass, while this guy could have his pick of anyone in the room.
“I’m Avery, by the way,” he says, taking a stool beside me.
A glass of orange liquid appears, topped with a pink umbrella and white sugar crystals.
“Jasmine,” I reply, finding myself transfixed by him. His blue eyes shine through the dim light of the bar, their corners crinkling as a smile takes over his lips.
“I’ve never seen you here before. First time?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “This isn’t a place I would normally go.”
“No?” His feathery brows raise with curiosity.
“I’m more of a quiet pub type of gal,” I smile.
“Nothing wrong with that,” Avery shrugs. “So, Jasmine. Do you live in the city?”
“Kind of,” I say. “I’m rooming with a friend in North Vancouver right now. You?”
“I live downtown, but I tend to move around a lot,” he says. “You work in the city too?”
I feel shame creeping up my cheeks.
“No. I mean, I’d like to. I recently graduated, so I’m looking for a job.”
“Really?” He says, looking amused.
Is my humiliation really that comical?
“Is the fact that I’m unemployed funny to you or something?”
Avery laughs. “No, not at all. I was just contemplating if it would be completely inappropriate to give you my card. For a possible job, I mean,” he says.
“No thank you,” I shake my head. “I don’t usually meet my bosses at bars.”
Especially if they’re as good looking as you are.
I don’t think I would last a day without drooling myself to death. Even sitting beside him is enough to send my sex-deprived body into a frenzy.
“How about a different proposition, then?” Avery’s mouth curves into a grin once again.
I can’t help but notice how delicious his lips look under the soft lighting.
“What do you have in mind?”
He leans in, close enough that I can smell mint on his breath. Then, a whisper against my ear:
“Come home with me.”
I’m about to tell him off when I hear the faint sound of someone vomiting from the direction of the dance floor. I turn, hoping it’s not Chloe.
“Shit.”
She’s on her knees as her body violently empties its contents onto the floor through her mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Avery asks.
“I have to go; my friend is sick.”
I leave him and my almost full cocktail, rushing to my friend’s aid.
“Chloe, you okay?” I say, kneeling beside her.
I gather her hair and tie it away from her face. The disturbing smell of her undigested dinner reaches my nostrils. People around us giggle before backing away from the soiled area of the floor.
“Mmm… I’m okay. Not ready to go yet. More dancing.” She mumbles, flopping into my side.
“No, Chloe. We’re going home. Now.”
Using all of my body strength, I haul her up to stand. Her arms are limp and they flop around me clumsily. Her legs, too, bend like cooked spaghetti noodles.
Just as I fear I may collapse under her dead weight, Avery appears, supporting the other side of her body.
“I’ll help you get her in a cab,” he says.
I let him, mainly because I know there’s no way my 5’-0” stature could manage Chloe’s tall frame solo.
Avery hails a taxi out front and lifts Chloe inside. He slips a business card into my palm.
“If you change your mind about either offer, let me know,”
Before I can open my mouth, Avery gives me a peck on the cheek and shuts my door.
I stare after him as we pull away, completely confused.
* * *
“There is no way I’m going to call him,” I tell Chloe the next morning. “It would be too awkward.”
“At least you had a fun night. I still feel like shit,” she grumbles. It’s the next morning, and we’re at the hair salon. We decided to treat ourselves to a fresh cut and dye job, complete with a complimentary neck and shoulder massage.
“Be happy you’re still alive,” I say. “I think you drank enough last night to tranquillize a horse.”
She glares at me as the hairdresser stifles his laughter.
“Did not. Who was this guy, anyway? He was sexy, from what I can remember,” Chloe says.
“Oh, I don’t know. Some guy named Avery? He was totally out of my league.”
Chloe rolls her eyes. “I don’t think you know how good looking you are, girl.”
I look at myself in the mirror. My hair is sticking in all directions, covered in a multitude of rectangular foils. The skin on my face is greasy, and I can’t help but notice how plump my cheeks look under the commercial lighting. I fro
“I’m just realistic,” I shrug. “I don’t want to be with a guy who is better looking than me. Everyone would always think that he’s settling.”
“They would not,” Chloe says. “Besides, you could be a model. I’m convinced there’s a fun-house mirror built into your brain.”
I ignore her.
“And you need to get laid,” she continues. “How long has it been – six months?”
“Chloe!” I shush her, feeling mortified when the stylist laughs.
“Oh honey, don’t worry. It’s been a year for me,” he winks.
Kill me now.
As we’re leaving the salon a while later, my phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hi, is this Jasmine?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, hi! It’s Cheryl down at The Agency. I have some good news for you.”
“Okay, what’s the news?” I ask, feeling myself get excited. Cheryl is a recruiter, and she’s been helping me try to find a job.
“An interview at Green Investments, the real estate developer I told you about last week.”
I rack my brain, the image of the company logo coming to mind.
“Right. That’s exciting!”
“I got you an appointment for tomorrow. The position would be an Assistant to their CEO. I’ll send you all of the details shortly, okay?”
“Perfect. Amazing. Thanks so much, Cheryl!”
“No problem. Have a nice evening!”
“You too.”
After we hang up, I practically jump for joy. Finally, the world is throwing something good my way. It’s not my dream job, but we all have to start somewhere. If I can convince Green Investments to hire me, at least I’ll be able to pay my bills in full this month.
* * *
The next morning, I feel more confident than I have in years. My dark hair is feathered with golden highlights and my naturally bronzed skin glowing from a face mask Chloe and I attempted yesterday evening. In the mirror, my brown eyes sparkle with excitement. Chloe even helped me pick the perfect outfit to dazzle whichever real estate tycoon ends up interviewing me.
I’m ready to have a kick-ass interview and land a new job.
“Good luck!” Chloe calls from the doorway as she heads out for work. “Text me to let me know how it goes!”
“Will do!”
I finish getting ready, taking one last look in the mirror before heading out the door.
“You can do this, Jas,” I tell myself. “Fake it until you make it, right?”
I’m confused when I arrive at the address Cheryl sent me. It’s a condo tower, located in downtown Vancouver by the water. I had assumed the interview would be at their main office, but I guess not.
I check the email with all of the instructions, hoping to verify the address. Maybe there was some sort of mistake. When I call the contact number provided, a man picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?” A husky voice breathes into the phone.
“Uh, yeah, hi. I’m Jasmine, and I’m supposed to be interviewing with you today, but I think I’m at the wrong address.”
“178 Pearson Street?”
“Yes.”
“It’s the right address. Tell the front desk you’re here to see Mr. Green on the 40th-floor penthouse.”
He hangs up before I can reply.
I’m left confused, with goosebumps spreading down my arms. Why did his voice sound so familiar?
I take a deep breath and enter the building. Immediately, I feel out of place. The ceilings are sky-high, the floors a polished stone, and the furnishings are upholstered in smooth, expensive-looking leather. An oversized pendant hangs in the centre of the room, its appearance resembling a sculpture.
I follow the man’s instructions, stopping by the front desk to let them know who I’m visiting.
“Right this way, Miss.”
The security guard escorts me down a separate hallway to a private elevator. He punches in a code on a wall-mounted keypad and swipes his card against a reader.
Wow, this place is on a whole other level.
“The elevator will take you up to the penthouse. Have a nice day, miss.”
“Thanks.”
I stand inside as the elevator car floats to the top of the building. The back wall is made of glass, and I watch the Vancouver skyline soar by, becoming smaller as we ascend toward the clouds.
When I’ve reached my destination, the doors ping open, revealing an immense foyer. Like downstairs, the floors are stone, but the walls are clad in a contemporary greyish wood. The ceilings have to be twenty-five feet at least, light shining through the all-glass exterior. And the view — wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been so high up.
I’m so deep in my admiration of this place that I don’t realize I’m not alone.
“Welcome, Jasmine.”
The familiar voice brings me to reality, and I jump as I notice Avery leaning against the wall. He’s wearing a suit, and somehow he looks even more delectable than the first night we met. The material of his jacket hugs his chiselled shoulders, concealing a dark grey button-up.
“Avery? What are you doing here?” I ask, my jaw still on the floor.
“I’m scheduled to be interviewing you,” he says.
I shake my head. “No, I’m supposed to be interviewing with the CEO, Mr. Green.”
He laughs; a dry, throaty sound that sends moisture right to my pussy.
“I am the CEO. Avery Green.”
I cover my face with my hands.
“Oh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize. Wow, I’m an idiot.” I could die of embarrassment.
“If you have somewhere more important to be, by all means,” Avery says, gesturing to the opening from where I came.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Obviously, I want to be here. This is an amazing opportunity.”
He grins. “Well, alright then. Follow me and we’ll get started.”
Avery leads me down a wide corridor, and I quickly realize his suite occupies the entire floor. It must be bigger than a commercial office. Seemingly, it stretches on for miles. I try to keep up with his pace, but everywhere I look I’m mesmerized by luxury.
We pass a sitting area with fluffy, white sofas that resemble clouds, decorated by plush pillows. Blue velvet curtains frame the windows on either side of a massive fireplace. Expressive paintings adorn the walls, the light highlighting their texture. And in the corners, marble sculptures of nude men and women in…compromising positions.
“Your place is beautiful,” I comment as we walk.
“Thanks. I live here about half of the year. I split my time between here and Toronto.”
There’s something about the way Avery speaks that’s innately seductive. As if every letter, every syllable has been carved from his luscious lips.
“In here,” he nods, pushing open a set of heavy-looking walnut doors.
Avery’s office has a breathtaking view of the water.
“Have a seat.”
I sink into a leather armchair opposite him, feeling my nerves rise to the surface. How am I supposed to impress someone of his stature? I’m a nobody. I’ve only just graduated from school.
“So, what has Cheryl told you about the position?” Avery asks.
“Not much,” I admit. “She said that I would be acting as your personal assistant.”
“Exactly,” he says. “And I see you have a Business degree…Have you ever held a similar job?”
“No,” I shake my head. “But I can assure you, I learn very quickly.”
“Yes, I see on your resume that you have a lot of the qualifications I’m looking for.”
Hopefully, they’re true. Chloe and I had embellished my resume after the last failed interview. A necessary evil, she had said at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.
“Yes, of course,” I say a bit too eagerly. “What sort of duties would I be responsible for?”
Avery removes his suit jacket and drapes it over his chair, his body proving to be an effective distraction. I tear my eyes away, fighting to keep my focus on the interview.
“You’d be keeping my schedule, answering my calls when I’m at home. Some errands. A bit of cleaning on the maid’s days off, that sort of thing.”
“Okay, that sounds perfect.”
