Curves Envy 2 - Curvy Girls Do It Better: BBW Billionaire Romance (11 page)

When I arrive at my desk, I’m greeted by a large box sitting on the edge on top of a pile of back issues.
Who left me this package?
I drop my bag and chai before opening a piece of paper folded and taped to the box.
It’s from Jennifer. What does she want now?
Before I even read one word she wrote, I’m already rolling my eyes knowing in my heart this box will become a thorn in my side.

I read the note twice, intrigued by her unexpected request. She’s suggesting I take this box home to test these new so-called cleansing pills. They are supposedly all the rage on the Internet and she claims our readers will, no pun intended, eat them up to help them deal with their weight issues.
I thought we were supposed to celebrate every woman regardless of the number flashing on her scale.
My former boss, Christine, frowned upon us testing any product we’d have to ingest. We’ll gladly test makeup, perfume, skincare products, clothing, accessories and shoes, but we have never been allowed to sample diet pills.

Jennifer calls it a cleansing product for optimum health, but that doesn’t change the fact this is another way of telling plus-size women they are not good enough just the way they are.
Great, my day hasn’t even started and she’s already managed to put me in a pissy mood.
I grab the stupid box and dump it on top of my filing cabinet, determined to ignore it until Jennifer waltzes by my desk to make sure I received her instructions.

I gulp down a steaming hot shot of my coffee and it instantly perks me up. I turn on my computer, ready to tackle an article I’ve been struggling with. It’s been kicking my butt for the last week and I’m determined to get it done within the hour, but my phone rings. I lean across my desk to fish for my phone, hoping it might be Max calling. It’s Devin.

“Hey, Dev.”

“Hey, sex goddess. Did you sleep at his place or did you go back home last night to be with your long-time lover, Mr. Leo DiCaprio? Is it safe to talk?”

“First off, thanks for the compliment—Max has been sexing me up like a queen. Second off, my cat is totally jealous of all the time I spend with Max.” I giggle. “Thirdly, I did sleep at his penthouse, but I’m already at the office ready to take on my day because Max had a conference call at a ridiculously early time.”

“My God, the man has changed your ways in only one week. Have you ever been up this early in your life?” I can only imagine the grin on Devin’s face right now.

“I take offense to your assumptions, Dev. I’m sure I must have been up at the crack of dawn at some other point in my life, I simply can’t recall it at this very second.”

We both laugh.

“Sweetie, I was calling because I got the text you sent me this morning and I couldn’t believe the time stamp. I wanted to make sure another Candy hadn’t hacked your account pretending to be an early riser.”

“Yeah, I texted all three of you to make sure we’re still meeting tonight at your place.”

“Oh, trust me, we’re so meeting tonight. King Kong attacking New York would be the only valid reason we would cancel hearing about your X-rated love affair with your rich boy toy. I’ve asked Lia to bring a lot of wine to ensure we keep you talking. I want all the juicy details, girl. You’re not allowed to leave anything out. Your sex life is better than most gay guys’.”

“Heck, I didn’t even know it was possible to have this type of sex life.”

“I’m warning you right now, Lexi is extremely jealous of the few cryptic text messages you’ve been sharing with us this past week. I think your story has awakened the dormant sex kitten in her.”

“It’s about time. I was worried about the girl. She hasn’t talked about being with a man in ages and I was starting to be quite concerned she might have renounced sex altogether. She spends way too much time working and not enough time having fun. She’s too young to deprive herself of love and affection.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. I’ve had this pep talk with her so many times, I simply can’t go there with her anymore. She has to make the decision on her own. I understand about her horrible past and I do sympathize, but she’s suppressing a very important part of herself.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll remind her tonight.”

“Are you going to be able to survive this day without seeing your man?”

“Well, he does have a meeting in a few hours on the top floor with the executives of the holding company, who apparently are extremely excited by his financial commitment for the next few years. Since Max was willing to buy full-page ads in
Sassy
magazine and advertisement banners on the website every single month for the next twelve months, the top honchos are beside themselves. I hope I’ll be able to sneak out to have coffee or a quick lunch with him. He said he’d text me when his meeting was over. So I might be able to see him during the day and I won’t have to wait until later tonight to steal a kiss from him.”

“Good for you. Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“I don’t know if I have, but I’m psyched about the opportunity.”

“Has he alluded to where the kinky relationship is heading?”

“If you’re referring to us dating exclusively, he’s not brought it up so far and I’m too much of a chicken to rock the boat. Things are great right now—scratch what I said, things are amazing—and I’m willing to be a little patient, which is completely out of character for me when it comes to men.”

“Do you want more?”

What a loaded question.
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Everything seems to be running smoothly—maybe too smoothly. Given my poor record with men, I’m kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop, Dev.”

It’s been impossible for me to stop daydreaming about Max and what we share. He’s been preoccupying my thoughts every waking moment since I bumped into him at the Bymark hotel, but I’ve learned a harsh lesson from Vince—sometimes when things seem too perfect, it’s because they are.

“Maybe the only shoe you’ll hear dropping is yours as he fucks you hard until you forget your own name on his über-expensive dining room table overlooking Central Park.”

“Don’t be silly. You have the layout of his penthouse all wrong.”

We both laugh.

“So we’re definitely on then?”

“Abso-freakin’-lutely.”

Chapter 8

At ten-thirty, I head to the smaller conference room we usually use for team meetings with my iPad, my notepad and my third extra-tall coffee of the day. Max worked me so hard last night, there doesn’t seem to be enough caffeine in this world to perk me up today. I cannot afford to doze off during Jennifer’s important weekly team meeting. I don’t need her to freak out on me in front of everybody.

Luckily, when I walk into the room, there are a few of my colleagues chatting and catching up. I take advantage of the fact they’re busy socializing to find a strategic seat. Jennifer is standing in the corner of the boardroom laughing at something Molly Russell, one of the art directors on the plus-size division, said and I can’t help but notice her striking red suit.
Have I ever seen Jennifer wear the same outfit twice since she started here six months ago? It’s good to be her.

Jennifer is a very privileged woman who has never known hardship—her dad still lives in Hong Kong and he owns a manufacturing plant that spits out millions of plastic bags for retailers from around the world every month. Since she’s an only child, she’s poised to inherit her father’s colossal fortune.

Five years ago she married Seth Weingarten, one of the wealthiest real-estate lords in New York. Seth’s grandfather is a legend in Manhattan. He came on a boat from Hungary with less than twenty dollars in his pockets and one change of clothes, but within ten years Yaakov Weingarten was king of the Big Apple’s real estate market. Rumors flooded New York’s papers and gossip blogs about tension and discord among the powerful Weingarten clan because Seth broke a tradition dating back centuries when he married outside of the Jewish faith. The only redeeming factor playing in his favor is the fact Jennifer is wife number three and the only non-Jew. Seth’s other wives ensured the bloodline remained intact thanks to a brood of children.

As if being this privileged wasn’t irritating enough, Jennifer’s size-zero frame means she’s never had to deal with body image issues. She’s always the first one to gloat about how she’s been able to maintain the same dress size since she was a teenager even after giving birth to her son Malcolm.
God, I want to puke every time she reminds us.
She might be well off, but it’s too bad her personality sucks.
What’s the point of having so much money if everybody abhors you?

Jennifer has been awarded the name Maleficent thanks to her snooty and condescending attitude. She might be the queen bee around the office, but few of us trust her or even like her—I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate to throw her own son under the bus if it meant she’d gain favor with the big bosses of the holding company that owns this magazine. I guess you could say Jennifer is my own version of Meryl Streep in
The Devil Wears Prada
—except my devil wears Gucci.

She turns my way and I’m forced to lower my eyes, conscious of the fact I’m staring at her.
Fuck.
Without leaving my gaze she announces the meeting is about to start.

We all rally around the boardroom table like children about to start class. After going through the agenda, it’s clear we’re in for a long and boring meeting… or monologue, as I like to call them.
My God, I hope this coffee keeps me awake.

* * *

Technically, I’m supposed to be paying a lot more attention during this team meeting than I actually am, but Jennifer is going over the same rhetoric she always rambles about.
Jesus, this is painful.
If only her voice wasn’t so monotone, perhaps it would help in keeping us somewhat interested in what she has to share. Just as I think I’m about to die from listening to Jennifer list a series of mundane goals we should reach as a division in the next quarter, a text comes across my phone. My eyes quickly dart down at my phone, which I strategically placed on my lap, and his name flashes across my screen.
Max.

I grab my phone and slide it under my notepad to be able to better read his message.

The meeting ended early and I was hoping to see you before I leave the building. Can you get away for a few minutes?

I look up at the clock on the wall and bite my lower lip.
Crap.
If I don’t sneak out of here, I’ll be stuck in here for another forty minutes and I’ll have missed Max. I furtively scan the room. My colleagues are either extremely fascinated by what Jennifer has to say or they’re sleeping with their eyes open. Most likely the latter given our past private chats.

Yes. I can get away. Where do you want to meet?

-----

Good news. Let’s meet in the Fashion Archive room where we snuck in a little over one week ago after you stormed out of our meeting at your office.

What? Has he lost his mind? Why on earth does he want us to meet there?

You can’t possibly be serious?

-----

Sweetness, I’m as serious as my hard-on. Get yourself here right this instant to help me relieve it before I go mad.

My eyes are glued to my phone and I’m still in shock at Max’s words when I notice Jennifer is no longer talking.
Crap.
I slowly look up and meet her disapproving stare.

“Candy, is there something urgent I should know about?”

I was so focused on answering Max, I didn’t notice Jennifer had turned her attention to me. As I look around the room, I’m mortified at the nine pairs of eyes darting my way.
I’m so screwed right now
.

Think fast.
“I’m sorry, Jennifer. I didn’t want to interrupt the meeting, but I just received an urgent text from our new advertiser and it seems there are a few things I should be aware of before I leave in a couple of days for Miami,” I lie.
God, please don’t let me blush.
“Can I step out for a few minutes to take care of this? I have a conference call with Sexy Curves Lingerie’s team tomorrow to talk about their upcoming features in the magazine. There might be a few last-minute details I need to provide to them.”

I hope I sound convincing enough. I fully expect to feel the weight of her wrath on me like a meteor hitting the earth on Doomsday, but instead Jennifer’s eyes light up and her lips curl up in a smile.
Lord, I’ve never even seen her grin. Money does talk.

“Absolutely, Candy. Taking care of our top advertiser is your number-one priority. Why don’t I fill you in on a few things you might have missed later today? Please, grab your things and go take care of this right now.”

Did she actually use the word “please”?
“Thank you for your understanding. I do apologize, but this is so unexpected. I’ll see you later.” I avoid making eye contact with anyone in the room, afraid my colleagues might read my deception, and instead gather my things and run out of the boardroom.

The second I step out of the meeting, I grab my phone again to answer his latest message.

Did I lose you?

-----

No. Sorry. I had to find a way to get out of a meeting.

-----

Thank God, because this raging erection is threatening to rip apart these new expensive trousers I bought last month on Bond Street in London and I’d hate for a good suit to go to waste simply because you’re not attentive to my needs.