BILLIONAIRE'S ASSISTANT

CHAPTER FIVE

Soooo, picture this; I’m in the living room of my very humble apartment. Seated on the couch is my mom and her old high school friend who is freaking wealthy.

Standing in the center of the room—and me awkwardly across from him—was Harrison King, billionaire and CEO of a thriving company. He was holding the kind of bag a fancy boutique would give after shopping, and he wore a grimace as his eyes scanned my living space. I was certain he would rather be anywhere else.

“Uhm…” I shifted on my feet. “Would you both like some water…?”

“Is it clean?”

“Harry,” Ursula called reprimandingly while I struggled to resist the urge to kick his face.

Harrison sighed and eyed me. “You’ll resume work tomorrow morning.” He gave me the bag in his hand—scratch that, he practically shoved it at me and I had no choice but to hold it. “Wear that. If I see a cap on your head, I will fire you again.”

I looked in the bag, then looked at Ursula. She had a tired look, as well as one of disbelief as she watched her son.

“So uhm…” I interlocked my fingers behind my back. “Where’s the apology?”

Harrison chuckled. I swear it was genuine amusement, and any other woman might have fallen to his feet following the pleasurably masculine sound, but that apology was pretty important to me.

“You’re joking right?” he asked with raised brows and I shook my head. “The only reason I’m here is because my mother—” He turned an annoyed look to Ursula. “—will not let me rest about having you be a part of the company. I genuinely couldn’t care less.”

I pursed and unpursed my lips patiently. “You’ve said a lot of words, but still no apology.”

“You should be grateful!” Harrison seethed.

“I assume he’s a handful,” my mother muttered to Ursula.

“Yes, quite,” Ursula responded through a sigh of exasperation. “Perhaps it’s the whole being twenty–five and a billionaire thing.”

“I’d think so. I hear he’s a business prodigy.”

“Oh, certainly, and he often lets the praise get to his head.”

“I can hear you both,” Harrison snapped, and our mothers fell silent, though wearing amused smiles. Harrison returned his attention to me. “Are you taking the job or not? I came all the way here. It should count for something.”

I bit my lower lip as I considered. A simple ‘I’m sorry for being rude and treating you like crap’ shouldn’t have been too difficult, but I wasn’t that optimistic, and I wasn’t screwing up a second chance at a job like this either.

“Okay, fine,” I agreed.

“Good. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Peterson,” he said dryly to my mother before he turned and began leaving. “Ricardo will pick you up tomorrow morning. Mom, I’ll be waiting for you in the car.”

“Thank you for the—” He was out of the house before I even finished. I sighed mentally and turned to Ursula. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Ursula laughed. “You don’t need to. You’re the one who will be helping my son after all.”

A short while later, she left, and then I could address my mother. “You called her,” I deduced.

Rose shrugged. “I had to do something, and I’m certain she would have taken action whether I called her or not.”

I plunked down beside my mother. I was still sort of processing the visit and the request. I had finally taken time to do my research on the Kings. They were not the kind you’d expect going through so much trouble for someone like me. It was disconcerting.

I smiled to myself. “Ellie’s going to be disappointed.”

*****

The next day, I was in the elevator of a luxurious highrise building that was ascending to the floor of my boss’ home. I was wearing what he had bought me, as ordered—a sky blue gown that stopped just below my thighs, a thin white jacket over it, white high–heeled shoes, and some accessories.

I knew for sure that Ursula had picked out the outfit. The price tags weren’t attached, so I had looked up the items online. Now, if you’re me, and you decide to check the value of the clothes your billionaire boss buys you, you probably shouldn’t be drinking water. I had sprayed water over the entire kitchen looking at the prices.

But moving on, I was now all dressed up—which was definitely unlike me—as the elevator climbed floors. My mom had helped hold my brown hair into a bun, leaving two tendrils to frame my face.

The elevator door opened, instantly giving a view of Harrison’s living room. The word luxurious and modern would do justice to its description, spacious and adorned with exquisite furniture. I had the urge to explore, but there would be no time.

Harrison was walking across the rich hardwood of his home, towards me—I mean the elevator—having just given instructions to a robust woman in a pink maid outfit.

He was dressed primly in a black suit, his face just as captivating as the first time I saw it. I still had trouble admitting how attractive he was.

He was holding a briefcase, and his eyes were fixed on me. I felt devoured by the blue of it. I would like to think he watched me so intensely because I had just arrived, but it wasn’t that.

He stepped into the elevator, and stopped right in front of me. As in, inches away. I swear we were sharing the same breath at this point. My heart raced and I tried saying ‘good morning,’ but I bet I sounded like a blubbering i***t.

He suddenly stroked aside a tendril of my hair. “If you’re this pretty, why hide it?"