BILLIONAIRE'S ASSISTANT

CHAPTER THREE

Standing at a solid 6ft, the rude man had coal–dark hair with two tendrils framing the front sides of his face. His blue eyes were electric, his brows full and straight, and he had the build of an athlete—not football player build, but maybe basketball. Think moderate and yet eye–catching.

Now, put all that in a navy blue suit that was sure to cost thousands of dollars, and what do you get? A woman’s perfect man—at least on the outside.

I had made up my mind that anyone who cut lines like this one was messed up in the head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” he asked non–chalantly, his voice annoyingly calm. “I’m going to place an order.”

“No, you’re going to join the line like everyone before me did.”

He ran his gaze over me, as if trying to understand the kind of creature that had just commanded him. Oh, keep doing that pal. Like you aren’t low enough in my book.

“I’m sure this’ll just take a second,” the blonde girl over the counter said, staring at the man like he was a cake made out of edible gold.

She was clearly entranced by the ridiculous good looks of this fallen angel. Damn it! I hated to admit that.

“No, I don’t care if it takes less than a second,” I said to the girl. “He’s joining the line like everyone else.”

He was silent for some seconds, and afterwards, he turned to the attendant, absolutely ignoring me. “I’ll have the usual.”

“Hey!” I snapped, drawing his attention.

His calm composure faltered as he looked at me, clearly irritated. “You’re starting to get on my nerves.”

“Well you’ve been trampling on my nerves since you got here, so why don’t we help each other. I’ll stay right here, and you’ll go all the way over there…” I gestured with a finger behind me at the not–so–long line of people. “You know where that is?”

Glaring, he didn’t respond, so I helped him. “It’s the back of the line!”

“I’m going to get my coffee,” he said to me through gritted teeth.

“Hey, man, she’s right,” someone said from behind, and then murmurs of agreement followed, mostly from the males.

The women were too busy caught up in their admiration.

The backup worked well, and after fixing an irritated look at me, he left. He didn’t go to the back of the line. He left the establishment, stifling his fury.

I smirked victoriously. It looked like I’d be having a good day after all. I got my coffee from the attendant—who made it clear with the look on her face that she now hated me—and calmed myself for a few minutes in the cafe before leaving.

Ricardo was dutifully waiting for me in the vehicle.

“Sorry I took so long. Some jerk gave me trouble.”

“Is there anything I can help with, Miss Peterson?” he asked.

In all honesty, Ricardo looked like the kind of person that the Boss in a Mafia would tell to ‘take care of it.’

I just shook my head, smiling gratefully. “Oh, and please, just call me Willow.”

He was stuck looking at me in the rearview mirror for a moment too long before he cleared his throat, impressively gathering himself and starting the car.

“Yes ma’am—uh, Willow.”

He pulled up in the underground parking lot of the ACE company building and gave me directions to the CEOs office. I took the elevator to the eighteenth of twenty–one floors.

Now and then it would stop to admit people, and I would get glimpses of the floors I passed. Most were desk office spaces, and I saw a floor that looked like a gym. Exploring would take some time, when I got the chance.

The people that stepped into the elevator didn’t hold back with their stares. They were more focused on my clothing than my face, which I had no problem with. I looked like a Michigan farm girl, which was incongruous with the whole corporate office thing.

Once again, I stuck out like.

When I reached my destined floor, I tried to keep my head straight rather than look around in awe. A long hallway preceded me, and on one side was an end–to–end window showcasing the world from eighteen floors above.

I ignored the urge to stand and gape, instead walking down the hall and stopping before a desk on the opposite side of the overly large window. Further down was a door that read, ‘CEO.’

The receptionist at the desk was torn between a welcoming smile and a look of dismay. Of course she had never had to admit anyone of my…appearance into her boss’ office.

She was a woman in her late twenties, dark–skinned with attractive features under mild makeup and full afro hair a kid would have the urge to touch.

“Hi. I’m Willow. Here for—”

“Willow Peterson. Of course, Mr King’s new P.A.” She gestured for me to continue, finally agreeing on a welcoming smile. “Please, go ahead.”

I nodded and went ahead. Every step felt a bit too heavy or too soon. Too soon was definitely it. Screw all that anyway. I was ready for this.

I opened the door and stepped into the office. It was too big for an office. A large window revealed the bustling road below—what is it with people and large windows—and a commanding desk sat at the center of the room.

When the person sitting before the desk lifted his head from his stack of papers, my breath caught. It was the man from the cafe. The really attractive one. The one I had made an enemy of.

Without a doubt, I knew this man was the CEO of ACE, Harrison King.