Everything You Are

Everything You Are

by

Evelyn Lyes

KINDLE EDITION

Sometimes a reckless moment of passion changes everything.

Ian Thornton has it all; wealth, looks, a brilliantly successful career – and any woman he wants. Until a demure Jane walks into his life as his new assistant. Even though trouble is brewing at Thornton Enterprises, throwing his life into chaos – and even though his type is confident buxom blondes – he finds himself unable to stop thinking and lusting about his new assistant.

When sensible Jane Bennet accepts the job offer from Thornton Enterprises, she doesn't expect  to be working for the owner's son, a man who looks like a Viking god, and acts like one. But despite Ian being irritatingly arrogant and entitled, she's drawn to him, so much that she ends up in his bed. It's an encounter Ian doesn't even remember and one Jane won't ever forget. A month later, she discovers she's pregnant.

Thornton's business troubles lead to lethal consequences and pose a frightening danger to their unborn child. Like it or not – and she doesn't – Jane must look to her arrogant boss to protect her and their unborn baby.

Copyright © 2015 Evelyn Lyes

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License Note:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting author’s work.

This book uses British spelling

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OTHER BOOKS BY EVELYN LYES

Jane Bennet glared at the fallen bicycle and her purchases littering the pavement: a plastic storage box, groceries and a large bag of toilet paper. She had put the toilet paper into the plastic box, secured it to the bike’s carrier with the clasp, and set the bag of groceries in the front basket. Unfortunately, the clasp hadn’t held the bag and the box had crashed down. Because she tried to catch the box, she lost her hold on the bicycle and it fell down.

“Do you need help?” a brunet, who sat on a bike a step away from her, asked.

“No,” she said without looking at Mark, her childhood friend and flat-mate. She picked up the bicycle and set it on its kickstand. She repeated her previous setup, but this time she set the basket vertically against the clasp, not horizontally. The box slid downward the first time the bike even shifted. Her jaw locked. If only they had a car. That way she would be able to buy as much as she needed without worrying how to get the groceries home. For a second she lifted her gaze to the black limousine parked in front of the pharmacy. “Rich people sure have it easy,” she whispered under her breath.

“I told you that you bought too much,”

“Yes, you did tell me that.” She flashed a fake smile at Mark before her eyes scrutinised her bike again, searching for a way to load all her things on it, ignoring the stares of the passers-by. Since it was lunchtime, luckily the store’s parking lot wasn't occupied with a lot of people who would watch her juggle the toilet paper.

“Do you need any help?” Mark asked her again.

“No.” She told him not to nag her, that she would take care of her purchases on her own, and there was no way she would have admitted defeat and had to suffer his ‘I told you so’ smirk. She picked up the toilet paper and secured it to the carrier. The bag of groceries was already in the bicycle's front basket; now she only had to do something with the box. She turned it in her hand, her gaze lowering to the bicycle basket. Of course. She overturned the box and put it on the basket. It fitted. With a satisfaction that upturned her mouth she faced Mark.

“You still have your purse.”

“That's easy.” She wrapped the strap of her handbag around the bicycle handle. “See?”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Excuse me, miss.”

She looked at the middle-aged man in a black suit. “Yes?”

“Tomas Richardson,” the man introduced himself and offered her his card.

She stared at the card then lifted his gaze to his face. “Yes?”

“I'm the assistant director-general of Thornton Enterprises’’ Financial Department,” he said. “We would like you to come in for a job interview.”

“What?” she and Mark said simultaneously.

Mark pushed himself closer and took the card.

“Would tomorrow at ten suit you?”

“Where?” Mark asked.

“At our headquarters. The address is on the card.”

“She'll be there,” Mark said.

“Don't speak for me.” Jane swatted Mark's shoulder.

“Ouch.”

“We will expect you tomorrow at ten, then.” Mr. Richardson gave them a nod before he walked away.

Jane wanted to object and call after the man, but Mark covered her mouth, so she, trying to push her friend away, watched the man as he strode across the parking lot to the dark car she had eyed earlier.

Mark released her.

“You are such a jerk. Why did you do that?” She should have just bitten him, but the last time she did that he had sulked for days. And having Mark sulking was like having a dark cloud beside you, with rain and small bolts of lighting and even thunder. Not fun at all.

“It's Thornton.”

“It wasn't real, was it?”

Mark studied the card. “It looks like the real deal, but to be sure... You'll find that out tomorrow.”

“Like I'm going.

“Of course you are, stupid.” Mark flicked her forehead with the card. “This is Thornton we are talking about. It's one of the biggest companies not only in the city, but in the country. And not only that...” His eyes became misty as he stared into the distance. “They have one of the hottest guys I have ever seen as a director. Sebastian Thornton Junior.”

Jane pushed her glasses higher up her nose. “Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, so!” He scowled at her. “I showed you his picture!”

“Yes, you did.” Yes, Mr. Junior looked good, but he also looked like a spoiled rich kid who had never had to lift a finger in his life.

His eyes softened and his gaze got lost in the distance again. “He's so dreamy. Like a Viking god in a suit, all raw and primal. Yummy.” He glanced at her, giving her a smile. “Just imagine, you working there, me coming to get you for lunch and, by sheer luck, meeting him at the water cooler.”

“If I remember correctly, according to the magazine, he's very hetero.”

He slapped her arm. “A boy can dream.”

“That's all you are doing. You should go out more and meet new people. You’re such a hermit.” She sat up on the seat and put her foot on the pedal. “Shall we?”

“Says the pot to the kettle.” He put the card in the pocket of his cargo and rode off, overtaking her. He looked at her over his shoulder. “You should go there, you know. Not just because of the sexy hunk you’re never going to see, but because they are a highly respectable firm that pays and treats their workers well. And you need a job.”

“That I do.”  She caught up with him.

“They have this great design department that I wanted to get in with, but...” He sighed. “You know how it is.”

Yeah, good jobs were scarce, and he was lucky to have even found a job related to design, while she was lucky to have her two part-time jobs, so that she could pay her bills and live relatively comfortably. She was sick of saving up though, and having to use coupons, and shopping only when the store had a sale on. Just for once she would like to buy things without having to look at the prices. “But even if this is real, which I doubt -- who head-hunts people in parking lots? -- and if I do land a job, he said he's from the Financial Department, and you know how bad I am with numbers.”

“You're going tomorrow,” he stated, in a voice that didn't allow objection, while giving her a determined look, the one that said that if she didn’t comply, he was going to eat all of her chocolates; the ones that she had stashed in the kitchen cabinet above the sink, the ones in her room, hidden behind her Jane Austin collection, and the ones that she hadn’t even bought yet.

She sighed. “Fine. I'll go.”

And she did. She found herself staring up at the glass skyscraper that carried the Thornton sign at the top. She stood there in a black jacket, white shirt, and a black skirt she hadn’t known she possessed, and a blue cardigan that Mark found in her closet after an extensive search, all the while complaining and criticising her choice of clothes. She liked boyish clothes, so what?

A guy rushed past her; his shoulder bumped against hers but instead of apologizing, he gave her a glare.

She shook her head at his rudeness, smoothed her pencil skirt, then took those five steps that separated her from the revolving door that led into a large hall with marble walls and floor. People hurried across the space, some going out, some toward the elevators, and some stood in line at the reception desk. She directed her step toward the two women that sat behind the crescent-shaped desk and joined the line. When it was her turn, she swallowed her unease, stated her name and added, “Mr. Richardson's expecting me.”

The beautiful brunette behind the counter gave her a charming smile as she glanced at the screen before her and her fingers with manicured red nails pressed a few keys. “Ah, Miss Bennet. They're expecting you on the fifteenth floor, the third door on the right. I'll inform them that you're on your way.” She flashed another charming smile before she picked up the phone.

“Which door did you say?”

“The third on the right, room fifteen zero four.”

Jane nodded and stepped into an elevator so crowded she felt as if she had just stuffed herself inside a sardine can. It was hot and she had to unbutton not only her jacket but also her sweater, and there was a smell of sour soup coming from her left. By the time she reached fifteenth floor, the crowd had dispersed and only three people were in the elevator with her, them and the stale stink of soup that still lingered in the air.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped out into a hallway with matte glass walls, interrupted by doors. Third door on the right, the receptionist had said. After she found it, knocked on it and opened it, she saw another reception desk and a girl behind it, so similar to the ones on the ground floor.

The girl greeted her and asked, “Miss Bennet?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Richardson is expecting you.” The girl stood up, opened the door beside her desk and gestured for Jane to follow her inside.

They stepped into a light, spacious room with two large desks, one on each side of the double doors. Mr. Richardson, who had given Jane the card, nodded to her. From his desk he took two folders and put them under his arm. He stood and walked to the door. “This way,” he said to her, before he pushed the door open and strode through it.

She was right behind him and when she passed the door, her eyes slid over the inscription on it.
Sebastian Thornton
. Not that hot guy from the magazine? She pushed herself onto her toes and peeked over Mr. Richardson's shoulder. Her face fell in disappointment when her eyes landed on a middle-aged man sitting behind a desk.

Richardson made a detour around the two upholstered chairs and the large, thick mahogany desk to stop by the older man's side.

“Miss Bennet.” Mr. Thornton stood. “Sit down, please.”

She sat in the chair, put her handbag on her lap and folded her hands over it.

Mr. Thornton lowered himself back into his seat. “I assume you know why you are here?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I don't know what kind of job this is supposed to be.” She probably shouldn't have said anything, but she continued anyway, “I'm afraid I'm not that good at accounting.” She found it boring and she usually mixed up the numbers, saying twelve instead of twenty-one.

Mr. Richardson gave one folder to Mr. Thornton.

“I see,” Mr. Thornton said and opened the folder. His eyes scanned the paper. “I see you dropped out of college.”

“Yes.” Because she didn't want to burden her family’s finances after her father lost his job and was forced to go into early retirement. It was bad enough that they had to move into a smaller house.

He closed the folder. “I saw you yesterday. I was impressed how you persisted until you solved the problem. I need people like that.”

So he had been in that car in front of the pharmacy? Jane leaned forward. That was why they wanted to hire her? Because he saw her stuff her bicycle with groceries?

The older man sighed, rested his elbows on the desk and laced his fingers. “I'm in a need of personal assistant. For my son.”

“What? I'm sorry. Umm. You want me to be a personal assistant to your son?” For Sebastian Junior? Mark would love that. But she had to be truthful. “But I don't have any experience in that department.”

“Yes, I'm well aware of that,” Mr. Thornton said, then looked up. “Tomas.”

“First, there would be a three-week probationary period, in which you can decide if you would like to take the position or not. You will be paid for that time.” Mr. Richardson took a few papers from the folder and pushed them over the desk. “This is the employment agreement and the job description. Read them.”

She pulled the papers closer and glanced at them. There were three pages.

“If you decide to become part of Thornton, your superior will be --”

“You answer directly to me,” Mr. Thornton said. “My son delegates your tasks, but if the assignment is not in the job description, you have every right to refuse it. He can't fire you. Only I can.”

“If you have any questions, anything, you should address it to me or Mrs. Smith. The contact information is on the page three,” said Mr. Richardson.

A phone rang.

Mr. Thornton pressed a key on the phone. “Yes?”

“Mr. Thornton, Mr. Thornton Junior is here; he said that you're expecting him.”

“Send him in.”

Jane half-turned in her chair so that she had a view of the door. Yesterday, when Mark and she had gotten home, they googled Sebastian Thornton. He was a tall blond man in his thirties, with wide shoulders and ever-present stubble that give him the air of a bad boy. Did he look the same in person?

The door opened and Sebastian Thornton Jr. strode through it.

The blond was as handsome as his pictures, but at the same time more breath-taking, more intense, with a raw sexuality that oozed out of him with every step he took. It was the way he moved, like a panther. Way too intense. Jane swallowed. And the way he filled out his dark grey designer suit... For a body like that one had to work out daily.

Ice blue eyes, which reminded Jane of a husky’s, slid over her as if she were an object before he fixed his gaze on his father. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Mr. Thornton said. “Ian, this is Miss Bennet. She's going to be your new assistant. If she accepts, that is.”