Snowbound in her bosss b.., p.1
Snowbound in Her Boss's Bed, page 1
“I appreciate your altruism, Miri, but I’m not a man used to disappointing. I’m certain there is a way I can make up for it, and when the time comes, it will be done. In the meantime, call me Benjamin.”
It was impossible that the innuendo she heard in his words could be anything but imaginary.
They both knew what was at stake.
But if someone had told her that she would be on a first-name basis with Benjamin Silver to kick off Hanukkah, she would have responded that that would have been a miracle.
If they had said she would be drinking exquisite rosé, reminiscing and making revealing confessions to him, then she would have called security to have them removed.
The idea of it alone was almost as ludicrous as the fact that she could have sworn she saw the same realizations mirrored in his own eyes.
This was Benjamin Silver, her project supervisor and one of the richest men in the world.
He was not someone she could relax around.
And yet here she was.
Marcella Bell is an avid reader, a burgeoning beader, and a corvid and honeybee enthusiast with more interests than hours in the day. As a late bloomer and a yogini, Marcella is drawn to stories that showcase love’s incredible power to inspire transformation—whether they take place in the vast landscapes of the West or imagined palaces and exotic locales. When not writing or wrangling her multigenerational household and three dogs, she loves to hear from readers! To reach out, keep up or check in, visit marcellabell.com.
Books by Marcella Bell
Harlequin Presents
The Queen’s Guard
Stolen to Wear His Crown
His Stolen Innocent’s Vow
Pregnant After One Forbidden Night
Pregnant Princesses
His Bride with Two Royal Secrets
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
Marcella Bell
Snowbound in Her Boss’s Bed
This book is dedicated to my Gold family. Not everyone is so lucky in the family they marry. I am eternally grateful to have become a part of yours.
Contents
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
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THEIR DUBAI MARRIAGE MAKEOVER BY LOUISE FULLER
CHAPTER ONE
MIRIAM HOWARD SUCKED in a quiet gasp as she took in the immense property below.
Her stomach did a somersault while the plane began its descent, as if she rode over a hill in a car, rather than coasted smoothly toward the runway below.
Even blanketed in a light sheet of snow as everything was now, or maybe because of that, the expanse of development stood out in sharp contrast against the ocean of forest it was nestled within.
She had never before seen a private residence so large—and she was from Los Angeles.
She had also never seen so much snow.
Both were more unnerving than impressive.
When she had been informed yesterday that she would be making the trip to Aspen this morning, she had assumed that she would be landing at a small private airport akin to the one from which she had taken off in LA only hours before.
Instead, while the runway below was indeed small and private, it was not to an airport that the pilot delivered her, but to the far end of what she could only surmise was Benjamin Silver’s Colorado compound.
Miri shivered, despite the comfortable cabin temperature of Mr. Silver’s private jet.
Descending upon Mr. Silver’s famously private sanctuary, she wondered if there was such a thing as too much money.
If Mr. Silver wasn’t proof of the possibility, over the past twenty-four hours he’d done a fair job of making the case.
Prior to 4:45 p.m. yesterday, Miri had had no travel plans on her horizon.
Now she was moments away from landing at a private compound in the isolated forests outside of Aspen, Colorado on a private jet—all because of Mr. Silver.
She didn’t imagine the facts that the trip was both inconvenient and undesired—she had evening plans for the first time since she’d been hired as the new events director for the Los Angeles Jewish Community Foundation two weeks ago—particularly mattered to Mr. Silver. He was a self-made billionaire, after all. It was unlikely that he’d made it as far as he had by prioritizing the desires and convenience of his underlings.
And an underling was most definitely what Miri was to him—even if he wasn’t her direct boss.
She didn’t report to him for day-to-day things, but he was the board chair of the JCF, the head head honcho, and that meant that she—and everyone else on staff, when it came down to it—reported to him.
He could have any one of them fired at any time.
And, making matters worse for Miri in particular, while she didn’t report to him, she was tasked with working directly under him to coordinate and execute her most important responsibility as events director: the annual fundraising gala.
She had to jump when he said jump, not just to impress him, but in order to get the job done. She unfortunately needed whatever time he made available to her.
And, if their brief phone call the day before was to be any indication, Miri had gotten the distinct impression that Mr. Silver’s time was extremely limited—and that he didn’t want to spend much of it with her.
Never mind whether or not I want to spend mine with him, she mentally grumbled.
But, as board chair, Mr. Silver was the board member assigned to liaise with her, as well as the one to give official approval for any of her plans.
They had to work together, and his time was worth more than hers.
Hence her impending arrival at his mountain fortress.
Calling the private residence a fortress would have been a bit hyperbolic in most cases, but not here.
Fortress wasn’t even truly enough to describe the compound. Really, even that word needed some kind of modifier. Monstrous, perhaps? Or maybe gargantuan?
The largest building was at least the size of a hotel.
How was it even possible that such a structure was a private residence?
Miri couldn’t fathom a family actually living in such a huge structure, even a wealthy one.
With that much space, a family could go weeks without running into one another.
Her own family was large and close-knit, and they had always done fine with just three bedrooms and a finished garage.
And while it had been a long time since Miri had lived at home with all of them, her absence hadn’t created any more space. Especially not when her siblings were out there busily populating the world with her plethora of nieces and nephews, all of whom were happy to take the place she’d left.
Now that she lived alone, her entire personal life fit easily within the confines of a microscopic one-bedroom apartment. She had a tiny kitchen, a shower rather than a bathtub, and a bedroom that was too small to fit anything over a full-size bed, and it was still sometimes too much space.
And what if it were just him, all alone out here in the snow?
Miri blinked to clear her mind of the image. It was eerie and lonesome, and the last thing she wanted to think about before spending time in his company.
A place this massive with no family or friends nearby would make a person wonder if they were a ghost haunting the halls.
Family—born into, reconstructed or completely made up—was what gave a person the strength needed to navigate landscapes that were vast and filled with pitfalls.
That was true whether the setting was the endless forestland of Colorado’s mountains, or the concrete jungle of Los Angeles.
His success was a clear indication that he had successfully navigated his fair share of vast landscapes. There had to have been somebody around, quietly supporting that.
Therefore, she was glad she’d brought doughnuts.
She had taken the risk of waking early to pick them up from a place in Highland Park that everyone had been raving about on her way to the airport that morning.
While under normal circumstances she would not have brought doughnuts along with her to a last-minute meeting with a billionaire, the current context made it seem not only appropriate, but shrewd.
As opposed to what she had learned about the JCF’s offices, where contributing to the break room’s baked goods collection was not only considered professional but simply the right thing to do, she was not under the impression that sweet treats would impress Benjamin Silver.
She did think, however, that there was a chance they might impress his family—whoever they happened to be.
Their meeting was taking place on the first day of Hanukkah at his sprawling private residence; whoever was around would appreciate doughnuts.
Impressing everyone that she met while wearing the hat of events director was not simply a fun exercise to break the ice, nor an attempt to win friends—at least not yet.
Her job was on the line.
She was only two weeks into her new position, a position that was critical to her being able to pay her rent.
To compound the pressure, she had barely secured the position in an extremely competitive hiring process in which she had been neither the favorite nor the most experienced candidate.
But—the result of her being desperate, loaded with more degrees and certifications than any one person had any business having, and inexperienced enough to be foolhardy—she had promised something that the other candidates had said couldn’t be done.
She had promised that she could pull off this year’s famed annual gala even though the date was only two months away and all the work that had been done up to her hiring had imploded in the fallout of a scandal.
She had projected confidence in making her promises, sensing that she had the hiring committee’s attention.
The JCF had been planning to announce the cancellation of the gala.
And so they had taken her up on her bet, provisionally hiring her on the spot—the provision being that she delivered on her promise and gave them a gala the likes of which would make the community forget all about the fact that the former executive director and events director had both been fired upon the discovery of their years-long office affair.
The JCF was still reeling from the fallout among its community of supporters, their faith in the administration of the organization at an all-time low.
Only something transformative could distract and redirect their attention and restore their confidence.
Miri had promised a gala that would be just that.
So she needed Mr. Silver not just on her side, but behind her with full support.
She needed him wrapped around her little finger when it came to ideas and plans—at least if she had any hope of preserving her job.
Unfortunately, she was not off to a great start when it came to the billionaire, whom she had only been able to speak to for the first time yesterday—after emailing and reaching out to him multiple times a day every business day for the past two weeks.
Even more unfortunately, the moment had not been at her best.
“Virtual meetings leave questions, and I don’t have time for follow-up calls,” the man on the other end of the line had said in the kind of voice that narrated women’s fantasies.
Deep and smooth, each perfectly modulated word vibrated with power and wealth.
Even, apparently, when he was being unreasonable.
Miri held back her frustrated sigh.
That he felt that way was a problem. As the board liaison assigned to the annual gala, Mr. Silver was the man she needed to work with.
He also currently resided outside of Aspen in Colorado, whereas she was operating out of the foundation’s primary offices in Los Angeles.
“I have two hours to spare for this,” he’d continued, the smooth chords of his words reaching through to the phone to once again wrap around her. “And that means we need to get it all done in one go, rather than meet virtually or exchange a thousand emails.”
As gorgeous as it sounded, he chastised her with his mention of emails—of which she had sent many—before carrying on with his baritone bulldozing.
“You’re going to fly out here tomorrow morning. We will spend a couple of hours making necessary calls and final preparations for the gala, and then you’ll fly home. You will have the rare privilege of my complete attention, after which I don’t expect to hear from you again until we meet again on the night of the gala.”
Nothing about his suggestion was at all reasonable.
The following day, the day he was proposing they meet in person, was the first day of Hanukkah. And as if that weren’t enough reason not to demand a sudden meeting, Miri already had a full day scheduled. Not to mention the fact that, in keeping with the tradition they’d started in their undergraduate days, she and her closest friends were getting together in the evening to celebrate the holiday.
These days they saw one another so infrequently, she didn’t relish the possibility of missing it due to travel snafus.
Plus, getting tickets and a car rental at this stage would be an expensive nightmare—even if it was going on her business credit card.
But, smiling through her slightly locked jaw, Miri had said, “I’d be happy to fly out to Aspen, Mr. Silver. I’ll coordinate travel immediately.”
On the other end of the phone line, Mr. Silver had laughed.
“That’s adorable, but no. Do you know how long it would take you just to get through the airport, let alone get a seat on a commercial plane at this time of year? I did mention that I have just two hours, did I not? It would take you that much time just to get to my home from the airport via car. No. You’ll take my plane. Are you ready for my airport’s address?”
“Sir, really, it’s no trouble,” Miri had pressed back.
She didn’t even like sharing rides around town. The idea of being at the mercy of someone’s plane for out-of-state travel sat even less well with her. If she was doing this at all, she was making her own arrangements.
“The flight from LA to Aspen is not long and I don’t mind a red-eye,” she’d added.
Miri hated to feel indebted to or reliant on anyone—especially for the experience of a luxury that she hadn’t asked for. When you owed people, they had a hard time allowing you to change.
If Miri was going to pull this gala off, she needed him to be open to change.
Irritation energized Mr. Silver’s voice, but the edge of it only enhanced its spine-tingling nature.
Voices like his belonged in the entertainment industry, not on the board of directors for a nonprofit organization.
“I told you we don’t have the time,” he’d said, with a firmness to his words that set off a little flame of defiance in Miriam.
He wasn’t the only one who was irritated.
“Private planes are far more likely to crash,” she said drily. “I imagine my death would create a bigger delay than the cab ride from the airport to your home office.”
Then she’d clapped a silent hand over her mouth.
Exasperation had momentarily clouded her good judgment.
She was going to get herself fired.
The last thing she needed was to give the impression that she was difficult, or, God forbid, sassy.
Either alone could spell death for a Black woman in high-level nonprofit work.
Mr. Silver, however, had surprised her.
He’d laughed.
The sound was as rich, warm and well-rounded as his speaking voice, but unlike his voice, the modulated and controlled cadence of which sounded like money, his laugh was the open joy of a regular person, rolling out of him as if he could recall what it was like to go to grocery stores and pay parking tickets.
As if she had been joking, he came back with his own sarcasm and humor. “If you’re so concerned about the plane, my helicopter is always available...”
“I’ll pass on the helicopter offer, thank you,” she said quickly, shuddering even at the idea while simultaneously relieved that it appeared that she hadn’t put her foot in it after all.
Nonetheless, it had been time to get off the phone before something even more disastrous happened.
“I’ll be at the location you gave me in the morning,” she said.
“Excellent. I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t worry, you have my word that you’ll be back in Los Angeles long before dark, no risk of missing even a moment of Hanukkah with your family. Two hours, no more.”
He had hung up without saying goodbye, and at the click, Miriam had let out a sigh of relief.
She could have told him that that particular concern was unnecessary because, while she had a family, they wouldn’t be celebrating any holidays with her any time soon and her friends wouldn’t mind her being late—but did not.
Benjamin Silver had no reason to care about her personal life.
The only thing he cared about was getting everything they had to get through done in two hours, and if they were going to do that, she had a lot of prep work to do.
Fortunately, that meant a lot to distract her from the fact that she would be attending a meeting with the sixth-richest man in the world.
