HI, MR BILLIONIRE

CHAPTER FOUR: THE BOSS IS BOSSY

ALESSANDRO’S POV

I ran my palm over the back of my neck while my eyes stared, glued to the screen of my laptop. It had been hours of sorting out the essential files myself, especially since my last P.A., Keira, left a lot of them.

“I would love to turn in my resignation later, Sir. I can't work with a man as cold as you are.” She had said.

I wouldn't tag myself as that, and I just had rules that I love people sticking to. Being the first and only son of Catholic parents, I had to work tightly under my belt, doing everything while thinking of the consequences. Coupled with having to head and stir, LA VIDA LA VINCI Company to the right path. A whole lot rested on my shoulders. Ever since I was a kid, I was taught to act like a leader. I had missed out on my childhood because, unlike other kids, I couldn't be seen playing in the rain, or with sand, or running around with other kids my age. My Sister, Pretty, was the only one who had fewer eyes on her and could be rebellious. It had, however, gotten worse when my Father died. Mother, may heaven bless that woman; she had paid me immense care and strict attention. I wasn't allowed to wear the same clothes twice, not even the same watch.

“You are an important figure, Alessandro. The son of the Fransco’s. You are not like others, so don’t think like they do.”

A sigh slipped out as I tried to get past the brewing headache and get the work done. I had a meeting scheduled for the next six hours, and I couldn't postpone it again. My eyes stung so badly because I had barely gotten some sleep.

Isla…Her name went off in my head again. It was seven in the morning, and I couldn't wait to see if she would come. Somehow, something about her piqued my curiosity. I had a whole lot of questions running through my mind, but I knew better than to pry. That man that had showed up at her doorstep, how did she ever cope with him? What prompted her to want to marry him in the first instance? Was it his wealth? Or desperation of him being her baby daddy? Whatever it was, he seemed like a worse guy for her. I knew because I could tell.

One of the things taught me was how to read people so I would know who to beware of. The day she had slipped into my car without notice, I had been outraged and furious, believing she had to be one of the reporters who would go all out to get some dirt off. It had felt so weird that she didn't even know me, not even when I gave her the card.

Her phone. I took that on purpose so I could see what she had on me. If she was one of those who wanted me out because they believed I could never be a good idea. But it had nothing but emails from the hospital and terrible pictures of herself. She sure was a woman who cared immensely about her sick son. I had seen a video of them, and he seemed like a sweet boy. Somehow, I felt drawn, eager to help. Maybe it had been the way in which Mother had taught me to help those I could.

Principles. My Mother, Katherine Francis, was a woman of principles. Growing up, I was envious of how strong she was. How composed. The office phone rang, and I pulled it up.

“You have a visitor, Sir. Miss Isla.” Harry informed me, and I told him to let her in. The door was pushed open few minutes in.

“Good morning, Sir.” She was dressed in a Cream blouse with a rose on the chest and a straight pink skirt that stopped above her knees, revealing her straight, long legs. Her Brown hair was packed in a firm ponytail, and her fingers clutched hard on the document she held.

“Sit. I thought you wouldn't come.” I put forth, watching her face for any clue.

“Why not? Thank you so much for the last time.” She responded, her lips parted in a smile. She had a dimple on her left cheek and a slight gap tooth, and it did well to compliment her heart-shaped face and pointed nose. “This is my CV.” she stretched it out.

Nodding, I took it and ran through it. BSC in Marketing. Second degree in Accounting. “Impressive. This will do. You are hired.” I let out and watched her eyes flicker. Something nodded in my trousers, and I grunted softly, refusing to understand why that was happening.

She was pretty, yes, breathtaking and innocent. And innocent was one thing I despised. I was too broken to taint a pure soul. If she was who she claimed she was. Her hair, though, it smelled familiar, the shampoo.

“What hair product do you use?”

Her eyes widened out of shock, then returned to place. “Dariff Care. I have been using them since I was 12.”

I nodded. Was it strange that I felt like I knew her? Maybe I met her somewhere. Her voice sounded familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

“What do I do first?” She asked.

“First, get rid of the perfume; it is repulsive. I can't stand it. Two, I will need you to wear more gowns, but don’t worry, the company covers those. Our clients are top ones, and if you want to be seen with me, then you have to look your best, and we will get your hair straightened.” My mouth fell wide open as I listed everything, but she seemed to have no issues with them.

My phone rang, and my eyes darted over it, a sigh escaping the moment I saw that it was her. Of late, Mother never called without a reason. Most of it was always about bringing a wife.

“Mother.”

“The Lord be with you, Son.” Her remarkable voice flooded the air. “I would love to see you at breakfast. Some important things need to be discussed, and no, we can’t have that conversation on the phone.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as I ran my palm over my neck again. I did this whenever I was stressed. “I have an important meeting in six hours, Mother.” I let out, hoping she would change her mind.

“Perfecto. More time for us. I will see you here in an hour. Gracias, Son.” With this, the phone went dead, and my eyes moved back to Isla.

“We are having breakfast with my Mother, and then from there we will head for an important meeting. We will discuss the details on the way and here,” I pulled the file and placed it in front of her. “Here is the list of our clients. Their weakness and strengths. The one you should relate with and not. You need to know them. But first, read page ten. Mother can be a headache.” I let out in a row and watched her nod. Turning the laptop off, I picked up my keys and stood up. “We are leaving now.”

Not to Mother’s place but to change everywhere she was putting on. To change her entire wardrobe. I was a man of taste, and my family was the type to see through any default. The first step was to make sure Mother didn’t see a mistake in her. If not, she was in for a rollercoaster, just like the previous ones.

“Okay, Sir.” She nodded, getting up.

“Another thing, don’t say anything there unless you are told so.”