Resisting the Billionaire (2 page)

Not for the first time, I wished I had the money to pay for
his old private school. I had to pull him out when we couldn’t afford the
tuition. Marcus said he understood, but I knew he missed his friends and especially
the teachers, who were able to give him enough individual attention and to
design assignments that challenged him.

I might be biased, but my brother was a mathematical genius.
Just like our father.

Sometimes Marcus reminded me so much of our dad, with his
long serious face and dark brown hair. He also had my dad’s soulful hazel eyes,
which I thought were way more interesting than my plain brown ones. We both
inherited our full lips from our mom, but Marcus’s face hadn’t grown into them
yet.

I thought he had an endearingly unique face, but Marcus
would probably disagree. He was in that phase where it was more important to
fit in than to stand out.

“Well, you probably already know the stuff anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s the principle of it. If you’re going to call
yourself a math teacher, you should teach!”

I chuckled softly and put my hand on his shoulder. “Well, we
can’t reform the public education system tonight. Would you please get plates
and forks?”

When he stood up, I realized my little brother was not so
little anymore. For the first time, I noticed he was taller than me. Tears
stung my eyes as a jumble of emotions coursed through me. I wished my parents
were still alive to witness this milestone. My mom would have burst into
happy-sad tears. My dad would have clapped Marcus on the back and declared him
a man.

I breathed deeply to keep my tears at bay. Marcus would not
appreciate a side dish of grief with his pasta.

Dinner was a quiet affair. I was preoccupied with thoughts
of my dilemma and Marcus was never a talker to begin with. I relished our
dinners together, quiet or not. Even when he was truculent, I still wanted to
see his familiar face across from me. Our dinner ritual was the only thing I
felt like I had control over nowadays.

“I’ll do the dishes, Marcus.”

“Okay. Thanks for cooking dinner.”

I smiled at the evidence of my mom’s etiquette lessons.

Always show the cook
your appreciation.

“Don’t stay up too late,” I called out as he headed to his
room.

“Night, Cora.” His door closed with a click.

I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t see my brother again for the
rest of the night.

 
The ten-year age
gap between us meant we were never super close. I was almost a pre-teen when he
was born. As a teenager, I was too cool to play with my baby brother.

Our dad died when Marcus was five and I was fifteen and I
had been too busy dealing with the grief to pay attention to anything around
me. Then before I knew it, it was time to move away to college.

It wasn’t until our mom got sick and I moved back home that
I started to get to know Marcus. He was understandably wary about his older
sister’s sudden interest in him when I’d been little more than a stranger in
his life. During the time my mom was sick, he treated me more like a live-in
nurse than his sister. And ever since our mom died, we had been trying to find
our way to some sort of meaningful relationship.

Some days, it felt like the barriers between us were
insurmountable. And other days I was filled with hope.

After the dishes were done, I retreated into my bedroom.
Every time I entered my room, I was startled by how small it was. My double bed
took up most of the space. My dresser was wedged against the opposite wall and
there was a nightstand next to my bed. I had to turn sideways to access my
dresser and the only place to sit was my bed.

I changed into my comfy cotton pajamas and crawled onto the
mattress with my laptop. Tonight, I had to do some research on Jake Weston. I
never did an Internet search on him because I never felt the need to. That had
all changed today. If I wanted to avoid working for him, I needed to find out
what made him tick.

I typed his name into the search engine and an infinite
number of results showed up. The most popular ones were sites documenting his dating
habits. I scrolled down and clicked onto the next page. I sniffed disdainfully
as I saw how much effort the media spent on documenting every woman coming and
going in his life. And there were a lot of women. A visual scan of the headlines
told me famous actresses and models seemed to be his preference.

Having zero interest in his sordid love life, I skipped the
gossipy sites and clicked on an interview he did with a national newspaper. The
article was dry and only documented his latest business deal. The only
information I gleaned from it was that the billionaire was a shrewd
businessman.

Jake Weston was twenty-nine and had already doubled the value
of the company since he took over three years ago. According to the reporter,
he had an uncanny ability to predict the direction of the market. His business
rivals described him as ruthless, but fair.

I moved on to a story in
Business
Week
. I skimmed through the article and frowned as I read the quotes. The
billionaire playboy was definitely not modest about his accomplishments.

“What an arrogant prick,” I muttered. The guy was obviously
a business genius, but he came off as cold and unfeeling. At the bottom there
was a picture of him, in a tux, escorting a supermodel I recently saw on the
cover of a fashion
magazine.
As an objective observer,
I would have to concede that he was one of the most gorgeous men I had ever
seen.

He had jet-black hair with just the hint of a wave to give
him an unruly, bad boy look. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes in the photo,
but he had sharp cheekbones and a square jaw. His nose was slightly too large
for his face, but it lent an additional air of masculinity to his otherwise too
pretty face.

“Pretty is as pretty does,” I quoted one of my mom’s
favorite phrases when she thought I was being too shallow. With that sage
advice ringing in my ears, I snapped my laptop closed.

Going through my nightly rituals calmed me and when I
crawled into bed, I had convinced myself I could talk Jake Weston into giving
me back my old job. All I had to do was to stroke his giant ego and he’d cave.

My grand plans fell apart before I even left my door.

The pipe under our kitchen sink started leaking– and
it wasn’t the slow dripping kind which could wait to be fixed– and I had
to call the super first thing in the morning. Disgruntled at the early morning
wake-up call, he took his sweet time to get to the unit.

By the time he got it fixed, I knew I would be late. I took
a cab I could ill afford and made it to the front of the building with five
minutes to spare, but I was disheveled and sweaty when I took the elevator to
the executive floor.

The morning’s fiasco had put me off my stride. I had dressed
in my most professional outfit– my black merino wool skirt and maroon
button down shirt. I even wore my mom’s pearl earrings to add a dash of class. The
powerful color combination was supposed to inject me with confidence, but with
my shirt sticking uncomfortably to my back and the wool clinging to my thighs,
I felt frazzled and off-kilter. It was not an ideal state to be in when I
wanted to bear the lion in his den.

When the elevators opened, a woman looked up from the
reception desk. She was very pretty, with straight blonde hair, its strands so
fine it looked like filaments of silk, a patrician nose, and shapely lips
slicked with bright red lipstick. But her ice blue eyes made me shiver. I had
never seen her before, yet she seemed to dislike me on sight.

“Hi…umm…I’m supposed to see Mr. Wes–” I stuttered.

“Mr. Weston’s in his office down the hall.” She eyed me up
and down and sniffed as if she smelled something foul. “He likes us to be
prompt and you are,” she looked at the clock on the wall pointedly, “a minute
late.” She lowered her head, dismissing me.

Feeling duly chastened, I almost sprinted down the hall.

Wham!

“Fuck!” The expletive flew out of my mouth as I bounced off
a brick wall. My purse flew off my shoulders. My body tilted backwards and my
arms wheeled to save myself, but I knew it was too late. I was going to fall on
my ass right outside my boss’s door.

Steel arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me upright.

“Shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you alright?”
Blue-green eyes looked down at me with concern.

I blinked to clear my vision.
Surely this Greek god wasn’t talking to me?

My fanciful comparison wasn’t too far from reality. He
looked like Apollo come to life, tall and handsome, with perfect caramel blond
hair, a long nose and full lips. His skin was sun kissed, making his aquamarine
eyes all the more captivating. The only thing missing was the toga. Instead, he
was dressed in a dark gray suit which had clearly been custom made for him.
Although, based on my collision with his hard body, he’d probably look good in
a toga too.

A hand waved in front of my face. “Hey? Are you okay?” His
dark blond brows furrowed.

Blood rushed to my face.
Snap
out of it, Cora. You’re gaping at him like the village idiot.

I dropped my gaze to buy time to pull myself together.
“Um…sorry. That was totally my fault. I didn’t mean to ram into you.”

He chuckled, humor transforming him into someone who looked
friendly and approachable. His eyes twinkled and his lips quirked in amusement.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve survived worse than a beautiful woman throwing herself
at me.”

My jaw dropped in outrage. “I was not throwing–”

“What the hell is going on here?” The hard demanding voice
jerked my attention to the man standing in the doorway with his arms folded across
his chest.

Shit! One glance and I knew it was my boss, Jake Weston.

My first thought was: if the blond was Apollo, then surely
this man was Ares, God of War.

My second thought was: the photos on the Internet did not do
him justice. In person, his very being emanated barely leashed power.

He was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders tapering in
an inverted triangle to lean hips. Through the expensive wool of his suit, I
could make out hints of his muscular build in the tightness around his biceps
and quads.

His raven black hair was thick and silky, with the barest
hint of curl above his ears. His olive-colored skin glowed with health and
vitality. His face was all harsh lines and planes, his cheekbones sharp and his
mouth a bold slash. Eyes of a familiar and mesmerizing shade of blue stared at
me with predatory stillness.

Jake Weston was gorgeous in the same way a samurai sword
would be– dangerously lethal.

There was something in his gaze that sent alternating cold
and hot tendrils down my spine.

His eyes, devoid of any humor, snapped to my waist and only
then did I realize I was still standing in the circle of the stranger’s arms.
Embarrassed, I stepped back.

“Umm…I bumped into…that is…” I fumbled for an explanation.

“Don’t scare the poor girl to death, Jake. It was my fault.
I wasn’t looking where I was going and ran her over.”

Apollo angled his head away from Mr. Weston and winked at
me. He bent down to pick up my purse and handed it to me with a flourish.

“Thanks.” I hooked it over my shoulder.

He stuck out his hand. “I’m Troy Weston, by the way.”

I shook his
hand,
grateful he was
willing to take the blame. “I’m Cora
Branton
.” This
must be Jake’s brother, the Chief Financial Officer of Weston Enterprises. If
it weren’t for their unique eyes, I would never have guessed them to be
brothers.

Comprehension dawned on his face. “Oh, you’re Jake’s new
EA.” I tried to draw my hand back, but he held on firmly. “Welcome, Cora! It’s
a pleasure. If you
are
free today, I’d love to take
you to lunch to celebrate your first day. And to apologize for almost
flattening you, of course.”

He smiled charmingly and I made a mental note to watch
myself around him. Troy Weston had lady-killer written all over him.

I heard something like a growl emerge from my boss, but when
I glanced over, his expression was blank. I didn’t miss the irritation in his
voice though. “Ms.
Branton
, you’ve already disrupted
my morning with your tardiness and your shenanigans. If you would kindly step
into my office, I would like to go over your duties as my new assistant.” He
turned to Troy and said coldly, “She will be too busy today to have lunch with
you. In fact, we’d probably have to lunch in for the rest of the week.”

He turned on his heels and walked into his office, the
expectation I would follow him without delay hovering in the air.

I withdrew my hand from Troy’s clasp. For some reason, his
grin had broadened after hearing his brother’s harsh words.
It was probably some weird sibling dynamics
,
I thought. “Thanks for the offer. I better get to work.”

“See you later, Cora. Don’t let the big bad wolf scare you.
He doesn’t bite…much,” he whispered with a gleeful look on his face before he sauntered
down the hallway.

I grimaced and spun to face the door. Inhaling deeply, I straightened
my clothes and marched in with my head held high.

I took a moment to study the front office– my future
work area. The wooden desk was angled to face the door, but still allowed a
modicum of privacy. On top of it were a new laptop and a tablet. An ergonomic
chair was pushed against the desk, awaiting its new occupant. It looked like a
comfortable and welcoming space. Its only downside was its proximity to a man
who was coldly dismissive of those around him.

Jake Weston’s office door was wide open and I paused on the
threshold. He stood looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, feet braced slightly
apart and hands folded behind his back. In the sunlight his hair still looked
midnight black, with no glints of brown or red. He looked hard and
unapproachable, like a pillar of granite.

The view of Lake Michigan and the Chicago skyline behind him
was breathtaking and if he weren’t there, I would stand for hours with my face
pressed against the glass.

His office was modern and minimal. Most people had little
mementos, which revealed something personal about them– photos, or souvenirs–
but I couldn’t see anything that told me about my new boss as a person.

A computer and very little clutter sat on a gleaming black
desk facing the door. His chair was a tall leather seat that looked like
it could have been designed by NASA
. On one side of the room
sat a glass conference table with eight chairs surrounding it.

“Mr. Weston, I
apolog
–” I
started to say as I stepped into the office.

He imperiously raised his hand to stop my apology. “I don’t
want to hear excuses. I expect everyone to show up on time at Weston
Enterprises. I will overlook it this once since Troy delayed you, but please
don’t waste any more of my time.”

I bit back the blistering comeback on the tip of my tongue.

Breathe, Cora. Play
the long game.

A light bulb went off. Trying to sound contrite, I said, “Of
course, sir. I’m not used to the high standards of being an executive assistant
for a CEO. Perhaps someone else may be better suited for the position? I’m
sorry to be a disappointment, but I’ll go downstairs and have Stewart send up a
more experienced replacement.” Inside, I was pumping my fist at my inspired
remarks, but I kept my outward demeanor sober.

He turned around, pinning me under his gaze and I wondered
if I had overplayed my hand. Instead of looking annoyed, he seemed almost amused
by my suggestion. My impression was confirmed by the small curve playing at the
corner of his lips.

His tone dry as desert sand, he said, “Oh, I don’t there’s
any need. You’ll do fine. Have a seat.” He indicated one of the two chairs in
front of his desk.

I almost groaned in frustration. I was so close to escape.
Biding my time, I sat down in the soft-as-butter leather chair as instructed,
wondering if this man ever used the word “please.”

His movements were spare and controlled as he sat down, his
eyes assessing.

Nobody could deny that Jake Weston was a beautiful example
of the male species, but it was his intense energy that captured my senses. My
heart threatened to beat out of my chest as he continued to stare at me with
eyes the color of the Aegean Sea.

I fought the sudden urge to fidget. My shoulder length hair
probably looked wild after my rush to get to work on time and my near fall in
the hallway. I laced my fingers together in my lap so I wouldn’t tug nervously
on my skirt.

“Tell me about yourself, Cora. May I call you Cora?”

Even though it was asked as a question, it didn’t sound like
one. Something told me this man rarely asked permission for anything.
 

I nodded, although I wanted to do the opposite. It felt too
intimate, especially the way his lips seemed to caress the two syllables of my
name.

“Mr. West–”

Again he raised his hand to halt my words and I found myself
profoundly resenting the gesture.

“Call me Jake. I insist. Mr. Weston makes me feel ancient.”

He smiled and I wanted to drop my head into my hands in
despair. If he was handsome in his solemnity, he was devastating with his lips
curled, flashing a dimple at the left corner of his mouth.

It was patently unfair for a man to be this beautiful, I
decided petulantly.

Five minutes in his presence already told me I would
struggle to work closely with him. It wasn’t merely that I didn’t like him as a
person, but my normally too logical brain felt fuzzy around him, like I had a
little too much to drink.

It’s called sexual
attraction,
a little voice taunted and I strangled it without a twinge of
remorse.

No. No. Absolutely
not!

That was impossible. It was just the stress of this new job
making my emotions go haywire.

Another light bulb went off. “Well… Mr. Wes… um… I mean
Jake.” His name stuck in my throat for a second. “I’ve been with the company
for six months, working in the General Administration department. To be honest,
I didn’t have much work experience before this job. Definitely not the
experience needed to be an executive assistant. But I could recommend some very
qualified co-workers who could really hit the ground running!” I held my breath,
hoping my sales pitch would sway him.

He leaned back in his chair. “Cora, I’m beginning to think
you don’t want this job. Now why is that?”

“Oh no sir! It’s just that you’re such a busy man. And
there’s so much for me to learn. I’d hate to waste any more of your time.” It
took everything in me to conceal the sarcasm from my voice when I quoted his
earlier obnoxious remark.

His lips twitched, but the rest of his face was entirely
sober. “While that’s very… thoughtful of you to take my time into
consideration, I don’t want to hear another word about you not being qualified.
I’ve seen your personnel file and I’m sure you’ll do fine. When I asked you to
tell me about yourself, I didn’t mean your work history.”

Shit!
In that
moment, I knew I wasn’t going to get out of working for him. My shoulders
drooped in disappointment. It was time to polish up my resume. Hopefully I’d
line up another job within the month– that was assuming I even made it through
four weeks. “I’m not sure what you want to know, sir… Jake.”

“Since we will be working closely together, I’d like to know
more than what’s on your resume. Where do you see yourself in five years? What
motivates you? Do you have family in Chicago? Boyfriend or spouse?” He waved
his hand casually.

My brows puckered in confusion. All those questions seemed
too personal. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t see how those things are
relevant to my job duties.”

“I need to know your obligations in case we need to travel
for work. Despite the rumors you may have heard, I’m not a complete ogre.
Should you need accommodations, I need to know now.”