Quadruplet Babies for my Billionaire Boss

By: Lia Lee & Ella Brooke

Chapter 1


I stood in front of my closet, going through everything I owned. Nothing was good enough. I should have gone shopping for something new. New clothes always made me feel like a hot commodity. New lingerie in particular made me feel like I should be scooped up right away. I could have done with both, but seeing that I hadn’t had a chance to stop at the store the last couple of days, what I owned would have to do.

There was no way I was postponing this. I wanted to make a bang today, and I finally had the courage to do it. I had to act while I was in the right frame of mind.

I knew I looked good, even in the scruffiest clothes. I wasn’t vain about it, either. It was a fact. I was tall and thin. I didn’t have too many curves like some other women, but my height made up for that. That I was graceful and elegant was a standard compliment I received. Add dressing for my body type and the confidence that I knew I looked good, and I was a twelve on a scale of one to ten.

Except that Brent Hooper still hadn’t noticed me. Sure, he was my boss. He was the owner of DigiTech, a company that designed technologically advanced products for a select audience. He was innovative and suave. The papers called him the father of our time. He was a lot older than I was—forty-five years to my twenty-three. I’d asked Margaret, who had been eager to offer up the information. She had worked for Brent the longest, and there was little in the office she didn’t know. I could have googled him, but that felt creepy and I wasn’t a creeper. Only sexually frustrated.

Brent didn’t see me as a sexual object. He didn’t notice me for my body or my soulful eyes or my ass, which I kept sculpted with squats whenever I trained. But I wanted him to.

In short, I wanted him to fuck me.

It was so damn cliché to want to get it on with my boss. And chances were, I was looking for trouble propositioning him. He could easily report me, and then I’d be screwed. But it was a risk I was willing to take. Because what if he was fine with it? What if he wanted me, too? I’d been drooling over this guy for a year.

I was fresh out of college with a shiny business degree and the notion that I could do and be anything wanted. Mr. Hooper had hired me as his secretary. It wasn’t quite the job I’d been aiming for during my years of study, but he had been drop-dead gorgeous. His hair was a salt-and-pepper gray, and his eyes were the color of fall skies. He was distinguished, not “old.” If anything, age had only made him better. His eyes had been hypnotizing when he’d asked me when I could start working. He might as well have said “be mine,” and my answer would still have been “immediately.”

Still, in the past year nothing had happened. I hadn’t exactly put myself out there. But that was going to change, and today was the day. I wanted to dress up so he would notice me. I wanted to corner him and tell him to take me.

Maybe not directly, but I wanted him to know I was there for him.

My phone rang and I picked up.

“I can’t talk long, Mom,” I said. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“That’s fine, honey. I’ll be quick. Are you coming over this weekend now or not?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “I might have something for work.” It was a white lie, but I didn't like making a decision on the spot about going to see my mom.

“Well, let me know.”

We ended the conversation. My mom wasn’t my birth mother. I had been adopted as a baby and grown up as an only child. Although I loved my mom, we often bumped heads and clashed on the smallest things. We were so different. We had learned to live with each other and make it work, but I had a much better relationship with her now that I lived on my own and had my own life. When I had still lived at home, things had been hard, often.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go to her place on the weekend. I missed her and seeing her was always great, but lately, she sounded like a broken record. She was always going on about how it wasn’t right that I had a job as a lowly secretary when she and my dad had paid for a degree. She said I was worth more and should have been earning more. She hadn’t been happy with the job from the start, but now that I’d been there for a year she was starting to hint I needed to move onward and upward. I knew where she was coming from, but she didn’t know how much Brent paid me.

He was a billionaire, and as far as I could tell, he threw money around like confetti. When you had that much, I guess you could afford it. He had told me he knew I had a degree, so he would match what I should be earning and then some if I took the job with him.