My Ruff Boss

My Ruff BossA Grumpy Billionaire Boss Romantic ComedyOphelia Jewels Contents Title PageThe Boring Stuff Author's NoteChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter Four Chapter Five Chapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter FourteenChapter FifteenChapter SixteenChapter SeventeenChapter EighteenChapter NineteenChapter TwentyChapter Twenty OneChapter Twenty TwoChapter Twenty ThreeChapter Twenty FourChapter Twenty FiveChapter Twenty SixChapter Twenty SevenChapter Twenty EightChapter Twenty NineChapter ThirtyChapter Thirty OneChapter Thirty TwoChapter Thirty ThreeChapter Thirty FourChapter Thirty FiveEpilogueAbout The Author The Boring StuffAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without written permission from the author. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.This novel is intended for mature readers eighteen years or older. The work may include sexual themes, kinks, and explicit acts to excite the reader. ;) All sexual acts are consensual and portrayed by characters of age.Everything in this novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are portrayed in it are the work of the author's dirty imagination. Though, if this has happened to you, I am insanely jealous.The publisher and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book. But if you are a big company and want to endorse me, hit me up. (for a fee, of course.)The author, Ophelia Jewels, aka me!, asserts the moral rights to be identified as the author and publisher of this work. That's right, Mom and Dad, I'm an author.Ophelia Jewels has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate because sometimes they are hard and don't behave. That's what she saidCover by Ophelia Jewels. Triple threat right here folks. She can write, she can design, and she can... I'll get back to you.Edited by Ophelia Jewels. Thanks to the advances in technology. If there's any mistakes blame the robot uprising.Supported by Lavandar, Duckie and my author team. Not to forget long nights, coffee, tea and all the sugar. Author's NoteThis book is dedicate the world's current billionaire's. Thank you letting fictional billionaires shine. An important note: NO DOGS ARE HARMED IN THIS BOOK. All of them are loved, happy and spoiled A.F. Chapter OneFayeBanana fucking shenanigans! My stupid heels click on the lobby’s marble floor. I’m late. So late.“No, we are not late.” I say to the basket of squirming puppies in my arms, like it would help.Four metal elevators hold the finish line. I double tap the up button. And then again. And once more. In case it does make a difference. But none of the elevators are near the lobby. Dang it.I take a breath and peer into the basket. Three pairs of adorable eyes melt my heart and worries like an ice-cream cone on a summer day. “You doing okay?” I smile. “It won’t be long before you’re free.”The elevator doors open to a man. Not just any man. A stop my heart, and make me second guess my underwear choice man.His gray suit is gorgeous, pulling tight around his muscular frame. Every detail is perfect. The color matches the slight peppering in his hair. The white shirt has crisp edges. Elegant and sophisticated. Almost like he is from one of those weird perfume adverts. The ones where you don’t know what they are selling, the product or luxurious sex. And we all know it’s the latter.Yep. I should have trusted my gut and the fact this is the fanciest building in the city. My dinosaur blouse is not up to James Bond standards. Even if it’s rawrsome.The man’s hand flies out, catching the closing door.“Thanks.” I say.His dark eyes pierce into the basket as if he is a child trying to use x-ray vision on his Christmas present. But not in a happy, excited way. No, he knows it’s another pair of socks from grandma.“Puppies.” I say. “Allergies?”The stranger’s grip tightens, knuckles puncturing with white.“Cynophobia?”No response.“Woof. Woof. No?”A small muscle in Mr Tall-Dark-And-Silent’s jaw twinges.A flush of heat crashes over my cheeks. Oh no, I just barked at a complete stranger. It’s fine, totally fine. Dork. “Well, as much as I would love to bark at you all day. I have places to be, so am I coming with you or waiting for the next one?”The man’s shoulders drop with a sigh, and he moves to the side.“Thank you.” I step into the elevator. Light fruit and woody scents infiltrate my nose.Tall-Dark-And-Silent stares at the doors. I reach for the elevator buttons, but the floor is already lit up. Great! There hasn’t been a person I met that needed a puppy cuddle session more than him.“Are you looking to adopt a puppy?” I ask.Silence.“Well as a thanks for the ride, I will be sure to tell the puppies not to pee on you.” I lean to the side, closer to him. “But between you and me, I don’t think they will listen.”Wow. Nothing. Not even a smile? Fine. I get it. No sense of humor. No dogs. No talking.Out of the corner of my eye, I scan over him. Perhaps this is the rich thing Charlotte talks about. It’s not all about the flashy products but superior ones. And damn, that suit is good. At least according to the butterflies in my stomach.Two floors up and we stop. The doors open to a young man wearing thick glasses which do nothing to hide the racoon eyes. He is holding a mountain of paperwork and muttering under his breath. Okay, move over Tall-Dark-And-Silent. We just got a new contender for the person-who-needs-a-puppy-break-the-most award.Another floor and the silence is gnawing at my soul. “So how’s everyone’s morning?”Both of the men stare at me as if