Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales #1) by Diane Alberts
Chapter One
Benjamin Gale III rubbed his temples, let out an exasperated sigh, and then leaned back in his chair. The sun had already faded to a dull orange glow, and the sky darkened over the famous New York City skyline with each passing moment, but he was still working his ass off, and probably would be for another few hours, at the very least. He didn’t really have a choice.
His family was trying to wrestle control of the company, and he’d be damned if he was going to allow that to happen without a hell of a fight. This was his life. His wife. His world. His baby. He’d dedicated the last five years to this office.
And it belonged to him.
If they wanted to take control of Gale Incorporated out of his hands, they’d have to pry it out with the use of deadly force. If there was one thing he got from his mother—who despised him—it was her stubborn determination to win.
And he would damn well win.
Hell, he knew why his mother hated him, and even understood it. He’d fucked up years ago, when his father died, and she blamed him for it. If it made her happy to hate him, if it made missing her husband a little easier on her, then more power to her. But now she wanted to take his company away from him? His own birthright?
Not in this damn lifetime. Or the next.
Over the five years since his father had passed away, he’d dedicated his life to trying to make things right. He’d quit partying. Stopped fucking around, and his whole life had been focused on this. On his work. And if he wasn’t at work, he was attending a function for work. He spent every moment of every waking hour being the man his father would have wanted him to be. He’d been dedicated, studious, and predictable as hell.
All his friends had abandoned him. Called him boring.
It was true. He was.
He even lived in the penthouse upstairs to be close to his office at all hours. His entire life existed in this damn Beacon Court building. If that wasn’t dedication, he wasn’t sure what was. But still—it wasn’t enough. It would never be—
“What are you doing?” one of his employees asked. He straightened out of reflex, but she was outside the door, not in his office. “Why are you still here?”
“I’m not finished with my report yet,” he heard Maggie Donovan, his lead researcher, say. She had the most angelic voice he’d ever known, and she was perpetually kind and always smiling. Pretty much the opposite of him. “You heading out?”
“Yeah. Everyone is.”
“Well, I’m not,” Maggie said, clearing her throat. “I’ll be here for a little while longer, so go ahead without me.”
“Why do you always stay late?” the other employee asked—and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name. She worked on the left side of the office, and had brown hair, but that’s all he remembered. “The beast doesn’t appreciate it, or you.”
He stiffened. The beast, of course, was him.
All of his employees called him that. They thought he wasn’t aware of it, but he kept up to date on everything that happened outside of his executive office.
“Don’t call him that,” Maggie hissed, her voice dropping lower. “He’s not a beast, he’s just a guy who—”
Her voice was too low for him to hear the rest, but that was just as well. He didn’t need to hear another damn word. His employees could hate him all they wanted, as long as they turned their fucking work in on time. But the fact that Maggie defended him? It made him like her even more than he already did.
Which was an anomaly, since he didn’t really like anyone. Not anymore.
Picking up his phone, he pushed the button that rang directly into his apartment. His butler answered. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Hey, Willie.”
“Willie?” William, his elderly and very British butler, let out a long, annoyed sigh. “I don’t know anyone who goes by that name, sir.”
He laughed. This was a game they played, and Willie was a good sport about it. “Fine. William.”
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“Can you send some dinner down for me now? Mr. Forbes should be here any minute.” He checked the time. Quarter till seven. “What is it tonight?”
“Eggplant parmesan, sir.” Disapproval was clear in his tone. “Working late again?”
“Yep. I’m the only one here besides—” He sat up straighter and cleared his throat, his mind still on Maggie Donovan and her defense of him, which was really quite admirable since he’d never given her a reason to think well of him. After all the times he’d made her stay late, which she did without a shred of complaining, the least he could do was have some dinner delivered to her desk as a thanks. “Actually, I’d like three orders sent down, please. And don’t forget the wine. Red.”