Mr. Beautiful (Bad Boy Billionaires #2)

GABRIEL

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed with a pounding head, and according to my hazy memory, I had sex with a redhead whose legs curled in my stomach. The last time I found myself in a stranger’s bed, I saw my face plastered across the front page of a tabloid with the most outrageous title.

Stark Apparel Inc. CEO, Gabriel Stark, Spotted in A Hotel with A Senator’s Daughter Having a Scandalous Affair!

Clearly, the media only targeted me because of my reputation in the corporate world. The woman in the tabloid wasn’t even a senator’s daughter. She was the mayor’s daughter. That’s why I didn’t believe in the news. They just wanted to sell papers. The past few years have been chaotic enough. I was a businessman—not a fucking Hollywood actor.

I moved her leg aside, creeped out of bed, and tried not to make a sound. I swiftly dressed, picked a sheet of tissue paper from the nightstand, and a pen from my suit jacket, and then wrote on it.

Thank you for letting me devour your pussy last night, though I can’t remember much.

Before I escaped, I checked my inbox. It was Wednesday, so today’s lady was Cate. Tuesdays and Thursdays were Megan’s days. I opened one message.

See you tonight, handsome.

I texted a reply: I can’t wait. See you, Cate.

She replied with a heart.

It was already minutes after ten, and I still couldn’t get sight of my executive assistant. She was supposed to be in my office at nine. What the hell was she doing at her desk? I finished talking with the people she was supposed to contact. I’d already made coffee and set a meeting with my designers. I couldn’t believe she was late again this morning. She literally lived across the street. She never ceased to amaze me with her unacceptable excuses for why she couldn’t be on time.

I wanted to give her a chance because she was recommended by dad’s friend. I wondered if my thoughts of her being an incompetent employee were true. After another twenty minutes of impatient waiting, I called her desk.

“Mr. Stark, how may I help you?”

“I told you to be here in my office at nine. It’s almost eleven.”

“Oh, I am so, so sorry. I’m on my way.”

She hung up, and within a minute, she stepped into my office carrying a portfolio. She put it on my desk and sat across from me.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“What is it, Ms. Will?”

She leaned closer. “I saw you last night,” she whispered.

I frowned. “Last night?”

“At the Carlyle Hotel with a redhead. Seeing you there made me think that what they were saying about you was true. I mean, how do you do it? Sleeping with so many women when I see you here every day?”

I stared back at her, incredulous.

“I just wanted to know what kind of boss you are.” She leaned back in the chair. “At least tell me the details if people ask me about you. I mean, I can create a so-so story about you just to wrap the truth, right?” she reasoned.

I sighed. “Can we not talk about this, Ms. Will?”

“Wait.” She held up her hand. “I just really want to know about your sex life,” she lowered her voice. “I can look past the non-fraternization policy if you want to try me in your bedroom. I can do everything that might please you. I don’t mind if you leave me in a hotel room since we’ll meet again in the office anyway. Sounds fun, yeah?”

What the fuck?

“Ms. Will, if you love your job, please shut your mouth. Let’s start working. I need you to go over these designs with me. Can we do that?”

“Then, after that, I can go?”

I clenched my fist. Can I just fire this woman?

“Yes.” I opened the portfolio. “These are for the valentine’s collection, right? Do you think it has too much black? I don’t like silhouettes too.”

“Black, what?”

“Black fabrics.”

“Ah yes, yes. It has too much black.” She stared at the picture. “But I think black is good. It’s very catchy to the eye.”

“Be specific.”

“I just like the color black.” She smiled.

Silence.

“I mean, it’s for Valentine’s Day, right?” she went on. “But it doesn’t mean we should put red everywhere, but I agree with the silhouettes. It doesn’t look haute couture enough.”

At least she still had some sense in her. I turned the page to the next design. It was just another plain, black square neck retro dress. It looked decent, except for the white ribbing and laces at the sides of its skirt. I turned the next pages, and it just got worse. What the hell are these?

“We’re not making a fucking cosplay apparel here for Halloween. Can l ask you something?” I closed the portfolio.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“What did you tell the designers?”

“To make a design for the Valentine collection.”

“Do you think this is for Valentine? The dear Saint Valentine is screaming from his grave with these.”

“I told them to twist it since I don’t believe in pure romance. I asked your designers to revise them.”

“Valentine’s is supposed to be for romance, Layla. What the fuck are you thinking?” I stared at her, clenching my jaw. “Did you even see this portfolio?”

“I didn’t know I needed to see it since you said they just needed to be reviewed. You didn’t tell me you needed me to personally review it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I am saying that I hired someone to see it. I paid her a hundred bucks to a graphic artist on Facebook to check them. Can you believe they liked the designs? That’s it! I guess they are all lovely!”

“You uploaded it online?”

She nodded, blinking her eyes.

I massaged my temples with my fingers. I felt my blood pressure rising. “Let me tell you this, Layla…” I breathed, trying to calm myself. “I hired you, and you hired other people to do your job?”

“Not everything, just some stuff I can’t do.”

“And you put the designs online. Are you fucking kidding me?” I roared. I had competitors out there, waiting for an opening to bring me down, and Layla Will just walked into that.

“Oh, come on, Mr. Stark, you only gave me a few weeks to review the designs. Fashion is my thing. I wear it every day, but reviewing designs isn’t.”

I gritted my teeth. “This is a fucking—” I paused—“this is an apparel company. We create designs for clothing, and we produce them in the market. Are you saying this isn’t your thing? This is exactly what we talked about in your interview.”

“My dad didn’t tell me the whole thing. I accepted the job because I heard you would be my boss. I came here for you.”

“Layla…” I didn’t want to waste my time talking nonsense anymore. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”

Her eyes brightened up. “Oh, sure! I was waiting for you to say that. I have an appointment with my friends in an hour. I can’t believe I can leave.” She stood and headed to the door. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Stark!”

The moment she left my office, I emailed HR.

Subject: Fire My Executive Assistant

Right now.

Gabriel H. Stark,

CEO, Stark Apparel Inc.