Assigned To Him, Book One (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Read online

  Assigned to Him (Book 1)

  Copyright 2016 Natalia Shields

  Published by Haut Pink Publishing

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  Table of Contents

  Thank You From The Author

  Assigned to Him (Book 1)

  Other Books by Natalia Shields

  Connect with Haut Pink Publishing

  Thank You From The Author

  To my amazing readers,

  Thank you so much for downloading my book! As an indie author, I really appreciate your support and hope that you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it for you.

  If you could take a minute to leave a review after reading the book, I would very much appreciate that. As an indie author, reviews are extremely valuable and allow us to reach more readers so we can continue doing what we love, writing fun, steamy romance stories for you!

  Lastly, be sure to check out my other available titles as well as resources to stay up to date with the latest from myself and other Haut Pink Publishing authors.

  Thank you for your support and allowing me to pursue my passion.

  Much Love,

  Natalia Shields

  Chapter 1

  The name of the local newspaper was stamped on the envelope I pulled out of the mailbox and the flicker of anticipation lit up in my mind. I’d sent the application for the role of trainee fashion correspondent three weeks previously and was starting to think I wouldn’t get a reply, but the letter in my hand could only be about the job.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I let out in a quiet warning to temper the onset of rising enthusiasm that was starting to bubble inside me.

  What I was holding could simply be a rejection that said thanks, but no thanks, and there was no point in getting my hopes up only to have them crushed. There was only one way to find out what was inside the envelope, but I decided it was best to do it in private and rushed up the stairs to the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Greg. He’d already gone to work that morning to leave me at home alone and once inside, I walked to the kitchen then sat down at the table. I ripped the envelope open immediately to take out the sheet of paper inside and started reading.

  “Yes!” I let out a few seconds later and a huge smile spread across my face as I pumped my fist.

  I read through the information again in more detail and it was only then that I checked the date and saw that the interview I was being asked to attend was for that very afternoon. A prickle of sweat erupted on my forehead and I lifted my hand to wipe it away.

  “Bloody mailman,” I cursed at the realization of how close I came to missing out on the opportunity altogether.

  My annoyance quickly transformed to a slight sense of panic as I considered what to wear. Throwing the letter down on the table, I got to my feet and hurried through to the wardrobe in the bedroom. Ten minutes later I was standing in my bra and panties, with the floor around me littered with discarded dresses, skirts and tops.

  “Stay calm,” I urged myself and closed my eyes as I inhaled a few deep breaths.

  I caught sight of my larger curves in the mirror straight after and stood staring at my naked figure. It was something I didn’t do very often along with avoiding the scales in the bathroom.

  “Will they actually want you as a fashion correspondent?” I let out quietly then dismissed the notion immediately.

  I wasn’t being interviewed for a job as a model. It was my brains and ability to write interesting articles that would determine if I got the position with the newspaper, not what I looked like although it didn’t stop me wondering if my bigger size would count against me. It was the first occasion I could remember really inspecting my figure in a long time and while I didn’t think I’d put on weight recently, I certainly wasn’t losing any. There was no doubt I was much, much chubbier than most girls of twenty one and I let out a sigh.

  “Too late to worry about diets now,” I muttered and returned my attention to finding something suitable to wear.

  I eventually settled on a loose, dark red dress that went some way to disguising my big, rounded curves and turned away from the mirror before I changed my mind. Moving across the room, I took off the dress and my underwear to set them down on the bed then went to have a shower. I dried myself off afterwards and wrapped the large towel around my ample chest before moving through to the bedroom and sitting at the dressing table.

  A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table showed it was coming up to midday, which still gave me a few hours before I needed to be at the three o’clock interview. It meant there was no immediate rush to get ready, so I leaned forward to study my face and ran fingertips over my smooth, unblemished skin. Makeup was something I never went overboard on, partly because my face was cute enough without it although more so because my boyfriend usually whined about me wearing it. His accusations that I used makeup to get the attention of other men were completely unfounded, but I’d learned if I wanted to avoid his unreasonable jealousy it was easier to play by his rules.

  “It would be easier just to leave him,” I muttered under my breath.

  It was something I’d considered in recent months as his controlling nature became ever more difficult to live with, but there was a dread to striking out on my own. It was a fear I couldn’t get over and so far it stopped me acting on my impulses.

  For once I decided to do something for myself rather than worrying about what my boyfriend would think, so went ahead and used mascara, eye shadow, blusher and lipstick to get the look I wanted.

  “Hot girl,” I said with a grin when I stared at myself before picking up a brush to run it through my long, blonde tresses.

  I decided to go for a practical style and worked my hair to a ponytail then moved across to the clothes I’d laid out on the bed to get dressed.

  “What now?” I asked my reflection while I stood staring at myself in the wardrobe mirror.

  It was coming up to twelve thirty and would only take me around twenty five minutes to get in to town, but I couldn’t face just sitting around in the apartment. That would only allow my anxiety about the impending interview to escalate and I needed to do something to stay busy.

  “Shopping,” I let out as the idea came to me.

  Not that I could really afford to buy anything, but window shopping in town would give me a chance to stay on the move and keep myself occupied. As it turned out, that proved more difficult to do than I imagined and when I eventually got to the office building where I hoped to work, my mind was in overdrive. I tried to think positive
thoughts during the wait to be called in, but it was a mixture of excitement and trepidation I was feeling when I stepped through the door of the interview room.

  Chapter 2

  “You’re…, Katie Carter,” an older woman said and looked up from the piece of paper she read my name from.

  “Yes,” I confirmed when I sat down at the desk.

  “I’m Mrs. Allen,” the woman said and smiled. “But call me Jeannie.”

  I nodded my head, but said nothing and waited for the woman to go on.

  “You’ve just finished your journalism degree at college,” Jeannie said.

  “Around six weeks ago,” I replied.

  “Is this your first interview?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “When I saw the chance of a trainee fashion correspondent, it was something I wanted to do.”

  “It’s a subject that interests you then,” Jeannie said and leaned forward.

  “As much as any girl,” I replied and smiled. “I wouldn’t put myself forward as an expert on it, but I take an interest in the latest designs and looks and I’m willing to learn.”

  Jeannie nodded her head.

  “Have you ever done any fashion writing before?” she asked.

  I almost let out a sigh, but held it in as I shook my head.

  “No,” I replied. “Will that count against me?”

  Jeannie was silent for a few seconds and I screwed up my face in expectation of the interview ending before it even got started.

  “Cards on the table,” the older woman said. “There were three applicants for the job and you’re the only one that has journalism qualifications.”

  “OK,” I replied. That sounded like it was in my favor.

  “The situation I’m in is the newspaper has agreed that I can start publishing a fashion supplement for the Sunday edition,” Jeannie went on. “It will be a four page insert to start with, but I need help if I’m going to make it work. The owner agreed I could take on a new member of staff to help.”

  “OK,” I repeated.

  The interview wasn’t going as I expected, but I seemed to be edging towards a job without even having to sell myself.

  “What I need is someone that can write me good articles from day one and help make this supplement a success,” Jeannie said. “That means having a basic understanding of the fashion industry and a willingness to work hard. The finer points of what is required I can teach them on the job.”

  “Is it purely working on the supplement?” I asked.

  “No,” Jeannie answered. “There will be regular articles needed as well to fill column inches on hot topics and breaking news in the fashion world. It will be a lot of work, but it’s decent pay for a trainee and you’ll get plenty of experience.”

  I hesitated to ask the question that popped in my head, but in the end couldn’t help myself.

  “Does that mean I’m going to be offered the job?”

  Jeannie was silent for a few seconds before nodding her head.

  “Your qualifications are top class and the example articles you sent were good quality,” she said. “You also come across well, even if we have only been talking for a few minutes. I think we can work together.”

  I resisted the urge to pump my fist and over the next forty minutes or so listened to Jeannie giving me more details of what the job entailed. It seemed to be the excellent opportunity I thought it would be when I applied and I was more than happy to get on board. It meant starting work the very next day, but I didn’t have a problem with that and agreed to it straight away.

  It was after four o’clock when I left the office building having secured my very first job. When I saw the small coffee shop opposite, I couldn’t resist the idea of treating myself as a way of celebrating. The cream cake and chocolate-flavored smoothie tasted delicious, but I felt slightly guilty about easting them once they were finished.

  “Too late to worry now,” I said ruefully as I looked at the empty glass and plate, but a smile spread across my face.

  It faded quickly when I glanced at my watch and saw it was now almost four forty five in the afternoon. That meant I wouldn’t get home until well after five o’clock, by which time Greg would likely already be there.

  “Idiot,” I berated myself and sprang to my feet to head for the door.

  I stopped before I got there and turned to walk in the direction of the restroom instead.

  “This is stupid,” I muttered when I stepped inside the small room, but it didn’t stop me doing it.

  Moving across to stand at a sink, I searched through my handbag to find a pack of tissues. I pulled them out one by one to wipe the makeup from my face. It really was stupid, but I could hear Greg’s complaining voice in my head as I was doing it.

  Once my face was clean, I looked down at the outfit I was wearing. There was nothing I could do about changing that and I shook my head when I turned away from the sink and quickly left the restroom then the coffee shop.

  I hoped there would be a bus getting ready to leave when I got to the stop, but I ended up having to wait for one. The busy evening traffic made the journey slow going and it was almost five thirty when I got off then walked the rest of the way to the apartment building. There was no doubt in my mind that Greg would be inside now. I let out a sigh as I walked up the stairs and slowed my pace when I approached the door.

  The sound of the key sliding in the lock sounded loud to me, but the apartment was quiet when I walked inside. I closed the door and crept towards the bedroom, with the intention of quickly taking off the red dress to have a shower. Just before I walked through the door, Greg stepped out of the lounge and I saw his eyes narrow as he stared at me.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  The thought of lying popped in my head, but I knew it was a stupid idea straight away. I couldn’t hide from him that I’d found a job.

  “I went to an interview.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said and I could hear the suspicion coming through in his voice. “You didn’t say anything to me about it.”

  “The letter only came today,” I replied and searched in my handbag for the correspondence I received earlier in the day.

  I walked closer to hand it over. He took it, but ignored it at first to continue staring at my outfit.

  “Why did you wear that?’ he asked.

  “I needed to look smart,” I told him.

  He continued to stare for a few more seconds before reading the letter.

  “A fashion correspondent,” he said and a smile flashed across his face. “You?”

  The slight annoyance flared in me.

  “Yes…, a fashion correspondent.”

  He let out a laugh and shook his head.

  “They aren’t going to employ you for that. You’re…”

  He stopped himself from actually saying what he was thinking, but I knew what was going on in his mind without him having to speak the words.

  “I’m what?” I challenged him.

  “Nothing,” he replied.

  “No, tell me why they wouldn’t employ me,” I went on in a louder voice.

  “You’re not exactly model material, are you?”

  My lips tightened together as the flash of anger hit me.

  “Well, thank you very much for that fucking vote of confidence,” I snapped and grabbed the letter from him. “And for your information they offered me the job.”

  I turned and stomped along to the bedroom, but heard him coming after me.

  “You’re not going to accept it, are you?” he asked.

  “I already have,” I told him. “I start tomorrow.”

  A glance at him showed the annoyance on his face.

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” he demanded.

  “What?” I yelled. “Am I supposed to come and get your permission before I do anything?”

  “This is a big decision,” he said. “We should talk...”

  “My decision Greg,” I cut in as I dragged the red dress off.
r />   “I don’t want you taking it,” he said stubbornly.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and stared at him.

  “Are you fucking kidding me,” I let out. “I just finished a journalism degree. Didn’t that give you a clue as to what kind of job I would get?”

  “You never made any mention of being interested in fashion,” he yelled.

  “What the hell difference does that make,” I exclaimed and threw up my arms. “It’s a job with the local newspaper as a journalist. What do you care what I’m writing about. I thought you might actually be happy for me.”

  He crossed his arms and his face set in a defiant expression.

  “I don’t want you taking it,” he repeated. “You’ll be meeting all sorts of designers and male models.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said and shook my head.

  “I don’t want you taking it,” he let out for a third time.

  “Well I already have,” I told him. “And I’m not about to phone and let my new boss down because you’re being unreasonable.”

  “Oh, is he good looking or something,” Greg said as his jealousy flared.

  I started to get bored with the stupid argument and my boyfriend’s childish behavior.

  “For your information, my boss is a woman,” I said.

  “Yeah…, well there will be men in the office you’re working in,” he pointed out.

  I shook my head at the ridiculous comment.

  “What the hell do you expect me to do?” I shouted. “Lock myself in the apartment and just be at your beck and call. I’ve got the job, so you better get used to it.”

  “Well, I’m not…” he started, but I grabbed a towel and walked away from him.