Breaking orchid, p.1
Breaking Orchid, page 1
BREAKING ORCHID
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Billionaire Daddies of New York
Book One: Orchid’s Story
A Dark & Spicy Age-Gap Billionaire Daddy Curvy Girl Romance
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USA Today Bestselling Author
FAEDRA ROSE
COPYRIGHT
Breaking Orchid © 2023 Faedra Rose
Cover Art by Artscandare Book Design
Interior Formatting Draft2Digital
Published by Gemini Rose Press
All characters, settings, locations, and all other content contained within this book are fictional and are the intellectual property of the author; any likenesses are coincidental and unknown to author and publisher at the time of publication.
This work and its components may not be reproduced without the express written permission of the author and Gemini Rose Press.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
www.geminirosepress.com
CONTENT NOTICE
This book is a work of fiction and contains content that may be upsetting to some readers. It is intended for mature audiences only. You have been warned.
This book features the following themes:
NonCon/DubCon, Sexual and Physical Violence, Multiple Partners, Breath Play, Public Exhibition, Praise and Degradation, BDSM, Rape, and Murder.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Disclaimer
BLURB
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BLURB
Orchid Morton dreams of becoming a big-time lawyer, but she’s stuck in a rut as she juggles studying at university with working two jobs to make ends meet. As fate would have it, her father calls in a favor with an old friend—one Mr. Victor Mitchell, the CEO of the most elite law firm in Manhattan, Mitchell and Associates.
Orchid is anxious but excited to land an internship at the coveted firm, but unfortunately for her there are no available positions.
The handsome and aloof silver fox Mr. Mitchell is amused by the awkward and curvy young woman and offers her an opportunity she can’t refuse. The chance to work under him... and climb her way to the top.
Orchid is intimidated by Mr. Mitchell but secretly finds him irresistible. Something about his alpha nature calls to her; and for the chance at her dream life, she’s willing to do anything.
A Dark & Spicy Age-Gap Billionaire Daddy Curvy Girl Romance novella from USA Today Bestselling Author Faedra Rose!
CHAPTER ONE
Orchid
I stand on the sidewalk, clutching the strap of my knockoff designer purse outside the gleaming Mitchell and Associates tower in Manhattan. Come on, Orchid. You’ve got this. My throat feels uncomfortably dry and I’m trembling like a leaf on the breeze in my high heels. But it’s the height of summer and I have no good reason to be shaking—except for the fact that I’m about to enter the proverbial lion’s den. Mitchell and Associates is the most prestigious law firm in all of New York. Built on old money, their clientele is exclusive; consisting mostly of celebrities, politicians, and the shamelessly wealthy extortionists of society.
It takes years’ worth of busting ass or ass-kissing to get an internship here ... That, or a called in favor. I don’t belong in a place like this. Not by a long shot. I’m literally nobody—barely middle-class—but my father has known the firm’s CEO since they were boys, and all I’ve ever been told is that Mr. Mitchell owes him one. So, when I started studying law, and waiting tables at two different restaurants just to make ends meet, Dad decided it was high time he called that favor in.
To say I’m grateful to my father would be a colossal understatement. Mitchell and Associates is what any up-and-coming lawyer should aspire to. They’re what dreams are made of. Just getting your foot in the door is something to brag about. And while the position I’m being offered has yet to be disclosed, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to climb the corporate ladder and better my life and future prospects. I’ve scored a ticket to the most exclusive firm in the city, and one of the best in the United States. I’m not going to fuck it up. I’m going to chase my dreams no matter the cost and make my father proud.
With a last glance up at the soaring tower, I steel my nerves and put my best foot forward.
Security guards in crisp black suits and matching wrap-around shades greet me at the rotating glass door.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection and my stomach lurches. I look like a fish out of water. Despite my best efforts to look sophisticated and presentable, I look more like the curvy substitute teacher you see so often in bad pornos. It’s hard to look elegant and sophisticated when the ladies are trying to pop your buttons, and your ass practically has its own postcode.
“What’s your business here?” asks one of the guards, his reflective gaze snapping to my face, before eyeing me over.
Even though I’m a grown woman I feel suddenly like a child caught with someone else’s candy. The guards are burly, built, and intimidating in every sense of the word. It takes me a full minute to find my voice, and when I do it sounds apologetic and anxious. “I, ah—” I lick my lips and tuck an errant lock of hair behind my ear, my gaze finding the ground. “I’m here for a job interview with Mr. Mitchell. He’s expecting me at ten o’clock.”
The first security guard nods subtly, and the second security guard steps behind me. Suddenly sandwiched between the two of them, he pats me down thoroughly. His strong hands dutifully trace my curves, sliding all the way down my bare legs to my heels and then back up again.
A shameful thrill races through me at his touch. It’s been a while since I’ve been man-handled so intimately. I just pray they don’t see the heat flushing my cheeks as I avert my eyes.
The security guard takes his place by the door again, arms folding across his chest, his stance strong. “She’s clean,” he says simply.
“Go ahead,” says the first, turning his attention back to the street as if I simply don’t exist, or didn’t just totally get felt up in public.
Re-tucking that damn stray spiral of my mousy brown hair behind my ear again, I nod awkwardly. “Thank you,” I manage, before bustling past, my cheeks still blazing with arousal. I follow the rotating door into the foyer and my stomach drops for the second time inside of ten minutes. Everything about the enormous, clean, and minimalist space screams of wealth and elegance. From the pristine white marble floors flecked with what is no doubt real fucking gold, to the perfectly polished stainless steel doors of the elevators, and the lush, tropical plants artfully displayed in geometric white pots. It’s jaw-droppingly beautiful, and by far the most affluent and stylish place I’ve ever had the privilege of being. I feel like a true imposter.
Nibbling on my inner lip, I take a deep breath and exhale. Time to make the dream happen. Approaching the gleaming glass reception desk, I smile as brightly and confidently as I’m able. “Good morning. My name is Orchid Morton and—”
“Of course, Mr. Mitchell is expecting you, Miss Morton,” the receptionist interrupts before I can finish. “If you take the lift to your right, Mr. Mitchell’s office is on level twelve. His personal secretary, Dahlia, will be there to direct you. Have a pleasant day.”
Thank you,” I squeak, inexplicably flustered by her professional, forthright, and efficacious manner. With an awkward smile I make a beeline for the elevator. Once inside, my anxiety only worsens. I feel trapped, like a frightened kitten cornered by a dog. I’ve never been great with confined spaces. But that’s office life in a nutshell, and I’m going to have to get used to it if I want to succeed here. Mitchell and Associates command only the best. If I don’t pull my weight, and perform above and beyond, my hopes will be dashed in no time. And I don’t want to be the budding lawyer who squandered her chance at the big time, especially when a personal favor was called in to get me here in the first place.
I press the button for floor twelve, swallowing down the familiar stomach lurch of gravity as the lift begins to rise. You can do this, I coach myself. Be professional, smile, and follow instructions. If I can just do that, I might actually secure myself a permanent position. And all those bitches and jerks who taunted and teased me mercilessly throughout my school years will have to suck it, then! If I land Mitchell and Associates, I’ll be the talk of my graduating class come reunion time. And for once I’ll be able to hold my head high. I’ll be more than the fat-shamed victim they drove to eat lunch in the toilets. I’ll be with the highflyers—the real movers and shakers of New York City.
As the elevator doors slide open and the twelfth floor stretches before me, silent and immaculate, I can almost taste success on the tip of my tongue. I’m going to make this work, whatever it takes. Blood, sweat, tears, a pound of flesh or ten? It doesn’t matter. If it gets Mitchell and Associates on my resume? I’ll do it. My future is worth more than my pride, and I’m not afraid of a little dirty work.
“Good morning,” says Dahlia, her blue eyes bright as I step onto the lush , cream carpet that appears barely walked on. “Welcome to Mr. Mitchell’s office. He’ll see you now.”
CHAPTER TWO
Victor
Straightening my tie, I look out over Manhattan like a king surveying his kingdom. My reflection smirks back at me, my dark, silver flecked hair gleaming in the morning sunlight. I know I look good. I don’t need to be told. I might be fifty, but I take care of myself. No expenses spared. From the best nutrition money can buy, to working out daily in my own private gym, I drape my muscular build in the finest suits made in America. You have to ooze power and wealth to represent it.
My name is my brand, my status in this city my leverage, and I rub shoulders with some of the richest people in the country. I am the silver fox who gets corporate criminals off the hook, and as a result I have some heinously wicked individuals in my pocket. And they pay me exorbitantly to keep their secrets.
Dahlia’s voice sounds over the intercom. “Mr. Mitchell, your ten o’clock has arrived. Do you want me to send her in?”
“Go ahead.”
A moment later, my secretary opens the glass door wide, and a curvaceous young woman with mousy brown curls, and furtive green eyes follows her in. Though her attire certainly measures up as far as appropriate for the workplace, her tits look like they’re about to spill out of her white button-up blouse, and the black pencil skirt that stops short of her knees, hugs her hips and ass in a way that’s almost criminal.
Well, I’ll be damned. When I accepted the midnight phone call that came from an old, old friend calling in a favor—I did not expect this.
My cock twitches in my tailored trousers. Images of this buxom little bitch bent over my desk and pressed up against my floor-to-ceiling windows flash through my mind, and I smile. “Thank you, Dahlia, that’ll be all.”
Dahlia nods, then closing the door behind her, returns to her lavish workstation by the elevator.
“Good morning, Mr. Mitchell. Thank you for agreeing to see me today.”
I permit a small, poker smile to adorn my lips—a lure. “You must be Richard’s daughter. Olive, was it?” I ask, purposely using an incorrect name.
The young woman nibbles her lip, her fingers toying with the strap of her handbag. “Yes,” she says nervously approaching the desk. “It’s Orchid Morton, sir.”
I extend my arm across the desk and shake her hand, squeezing just a little tighter and for longer than is polite.
Orchid smiles awkwardly and flusters in the most becoming way as she withdraws her grip.
“Ah, yes, Orchid. Please, take a seat.” I wait for the girl to sit, silently enjoying the way she futilely attempts to pull down the hem of her skirt as she crosses her legs at the ankle.
“Thank you, sir.”
A dark thrill of power rushes through me. I’m used to being addressed as such, but there’s something about the way the words sound tumbling from that sweet, pouty mouth of hers. I’m going to have fun with this one, I decide. I’m going to break her down piece by piece, buy her out, and belittle her until my opinion is the only one that matters. I think I’ll make a pet of her. “So, Miss Morton, I hear you’re studying law, is that correct?”
Orchid clutches her handbag on her lap, her gaze rising to meet mine. “Yes, sir. It is. I’ve been attending Columbia University.”
“And you’re hoping for an internship here at Mitchell and Associates?”
“That’s the dream,” she answers with the hint of a smile, her cheeks flaring an endearing rosy pink.
This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. “I see, well, as it so happens, Columbia University is not one of our preferred intakes,” I say, delighting in the way she desperately tries to hide her dismay as her hopes and dreams crumble before her very eyes. She hasn’t got a poker face to speak of. Poor, poor girl.
“Oh, I see,” she says. “I’m sorry sir, I wasn’t aware. I just assumed—”
“No, I don’t suppose you would be,” I interject, cutting her off.
Orchid licks her lips and stares at her feet. “Maybe this was a mistake,” she says. “My father was just trying to help me get a leg-up in the industry. I’m the first one in our family to attend university, and I’ve been working two jobs to support myself through my studies... I’m sorry.” Her voice is on the cusp of breaking with emotion. “It was wrong of me to have assumed I’d be the right fit for your firm, Mr. Mitchell.” Orchid moves to stand, her face crestfallen.
“Working two jobs, you say?”
Orchid nods, tucking a curly lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never been afraid of hard work, sir. The long hours and monotony seemed worth if it meant I’d be able to chase my dream career.”
I lean back in my luxurious leather chair, steepling my fingers as I scrutinize her. “While we don’t have any internships available at the moment... I can appreciate a hard worker,” I say, dangling the bait.
Orchid’s gaze locks onto my mine in an instant, a flicker of hope returning to her pretty emerald eyes.
“There’s more than one way to reach the top, Miss Morton. And if you’re willing to demonstrate that hard-working, entrepreneurial determination here, I could potentially find a place for you. You could start at the bottom and work your way up, as it were.”
The girl’s entire demeanor changes, her shoulders push back, she holds her head high, and her smile is bright. “I’m willing to work, sir,” she reiterates, an admirable note of hunger for success in her tone. “What position might I be looking at?”
Leaning forward, I crack my knuckles, before resting my elbows on the desk. “The truth is, Miss Morton, I’m in dire need of a Personal Assistant. The last girl fell unexpectedly pregnant and handed in her notice just recently. It’s left me between a rock and a hard place, you understand?”
Orchid’s enormous tits rise and fall with her rapid, excited breaths. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. But I don’t have any formal training as an assistant...”
“Well, all things considered, I’d be willing to train the right candidate—especially for a friend like your father. Just be aware, you’d be working very, very closely with me, Miss Morton. Running errands, attending to my personal needs wherever business leads. It’s a tiring job with long hours and an even longer list of requirements. So, do you think you’re the right candidate to work under me, Orchid?”
CHAPTER THREE
Orchid
I was one hundred percent unprepared for just how damn attractive Mr. Mitchell is. He looks like a silver fox ready to walk the Red Carpet in Hollywood. His slate gray gaze is smoldering, his shoulders are broad, and he looks like he was literally poured into his suit. It fits perfectly. Something about him draws me in, despite his outward coldness. I’m not stupid. He’s clearly calculating and manipulative as fuck—you have to be in this industry—but a part of me just aches for him to take me over his knee and spank me.
Do I want to work under him? Jesus Christ. I’m almost afraid to answer that. Something in his tone suggests that I might be literally working my way up from the bottom... and though every feminist muscle in my body bristles at the thought, I can’t deny the twinge inside me, the dampness of my panties, or the way he makes my heart race. His deep, commanding voice is sexier than I could have ever believed a voice alone could be. If he ordered me to strip, I don’t know that I could rebuke him. His presence is intimidating and his allure undeniable. And the way my name sounds on his lips? My God. How am I going to survive this?
“Orchid?” prompts Mr. Mitchell. “Having second thoughts?”
Shit. I swallow my nerves and squeeze my legs together to try and eliminate the pulsing heat that grows steadily and with increasing need with each passing second. “Ah—”
“Working for Mitchell and Associates is your dream, isn’t it?” he prompts.
“Yes, sir,” I answer. “Absolutely it is.”
“Then chase your dream, Miss Morton,” he encourages. “I’m sure your father would want you to make the most of this opportunity. I do not offer favors lightly, so squandering one like this could prove to be a great mistake.”
“Of course, sir. I know,” I answer, trying to reign in the fluster that threatens to overwhelm me completely. “Your reputation precedes you. It would be an honor to work under you, Mr. Mitchell—if you’ll have me.”
