The Billionaire's Assistant (Contemporary BWWM Interracial Romance) (The Billionaire's Proposition Book 1) (14 page)

He is definitely up to something, and again, I am powerless to resist. Damn this friggin’ curiosity! Damn these hormones, this dry spell, his cologne, those hypnotizing eyes!

I go about getting his drinks.

When I’ve returned from giving him his appetizers, Maggie accosts me.

“So, has he made a move on you yet?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Has he asked you out directly?”

I am bursting with excitement, my body alive and pulsing, and sharing a bit of the excitement might help me calm down a bit. Or would it?

I can’t tell her everything, of course, but maybe I can share a little—after all, she and I have been friends for over two years.

But could I really trust her? Should I?

I look into her brown eyes and decide to go with it.

“Okay, you can’t breathe a word of this to anyone, but…”

I give her a quick rundown, skipping the cunnilingus part.

“…And when I got inside, I realized I never told him where I lived!”

“Okay, now that’s kind of creepy, even for a hot guy. I guess he’s been stalking you?”

I shove her lightly. “Don’t joke like that.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what else to say. I mean, he seems to know more about you than you think. Why and how, who knows? Maybe that’s how gazillionaires roll—background checks on everybody, including pieces of tail.”

Her phrasing twists me.

Was that really all I would be to him? A piece of tail?

Hearing her say it somehow makes it seem worse.

“Anyway, don’t sweat it,” she continues. “Sounds like you’d have a hard time fighting him, and since you’re not really trying to fight him since you went in his car and let him drive you home and everything, just go with it. See where it goes. Hell, I know the hostesses and busboys don’t mind if you string him along a bit longer, and he comes in here dropping stacks till he gets you to go out with him.”

Which I’m definitely going to do tonight, but I try to think of how I can take control of the situation again; I can’t let him have this kind of power over me—it’s far too dangerous.

I have little experience with relationships, in general, but I’ve had friends who were in them, and I’ve witnessed all kinds of dynamics. The one where the guy has all the power—one way or the other—is usually the saddest one.

I never had a boyfriend in high school, and I’ve only had one boyfriend, in fact—I met him at my first job and we were together for years. Like my brother, I had to jump right into the adult world, but while he went off to join the Army, I started work in minimum-wage data entry job, then left when a friend convinced me to get into restaurant gigs where, on top of minimum wage, we’d get tips.

I’m not sure I regret the decision—especially when it has led me to Richard.

I am under no delusion that our chemistry is a unique thing; this guy has money and steamy good looks—a heady combination—and I can see that he has the same power he has over me over lots of other women.

I might not be that experienced, but I don’t judge my friends for having casual relationships—everyone needs to scratch an itch sometime, and it seems my time has finally arrived.

I think I’ll go with him tonight and let us finally quench this fire between us, then go on my merry way, as he’s sure to do. We part ways satisfied.

I’m pretty much terrified as I bring out the dessert and the check.

My heart is pounding so hard, I’m actually afraid it might give out, or that I’ll black out from the pressure.

“I want you to meet me outside again,” Richard says as he drops a stack of hundreds again. “You know where.”

As I head back to the station to clock out, I notice the lead hostess sending me a different kind of look—not the usual “I’m going to pretend I don’t see you” or “God, will you lose some weight!” look.

I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I pull Maggie aside at the first opportunity.

“Please tell me you didn’t tell her,” I say, still holding her by the arm.

“Of course I didn’t!” She pulls away. “You told me not to tell anyone and I definitely wouldn’t tell her.”

“Then why is she looking at me so weirdly? Like she knows something?”

Maggie’s silence gets heavy.

“I mean, I mentioned you and Mr. HotPants would probably be getting better acquainted soon when Brenda said she was thinking of slipping him her number.”

Oh boy.

Brenda is the other pleasantly plump server with the huge boobs.

I guess she noticed he liked what he saw on me and figured he was into big girls so she had a chance too.

“I didn’t give any specifics!” Maggie insists. “I just said you guys had a chance to talk after your shift, that’s all—I was trying to discourage her.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

No doubt Brenda has already passed that tidbit on to more than one person, and in no time, it hit the hostess stand.

Why is it so hard for people to understand that one leak is all it takes to flood a ship?

“Girl, I’m so sorry. Look, I even told her you didn’t go home with him when she asked.”

“But did you tell her he dropped me home?”

Why, why, why did I mention that part?

Maggie’s guilty look tells me all.

My emotions take a turn for the worst, and I am sad and angry at once.

“Maggie, you know as far as these guys are concerned now, I simply didn’t tell you the rest and in their minds, he banged me five ways from Sunday!”

What is wrong with people? How do you pretend
Please don’t tell anyone
doesn’t mean exactly that? For these very obvious reasons?

But I should have known better—never trust anyone with anything sensitive.

One person is all it takes to turn a secret into public knowledge. Or public speculation—which is sometimes worse. Mean-spirited or not, people will always find an opportunity to betray you and let some juicy morsel slip.

I know that hostess is going to twist things now that she’s gotten a whiff of scandal, and who knows what the story will look like once she’s done with it.

Great. I haven’t even had sex with the guy yet and now everyone will probably think I’m a slut. That my skanky, desperate, rotund ass went home with a complete stranger.

Everyone knows he left me a lot of money the last time, and now some of them will probably see his generosity as payment for other services rendered.

My emotions are all over the place and hanging over them all is a sense of dread.

Am I ruined here now?

I’ve always been proud of my rep—never even had an opportunity to get a bad one—and now this. Reputation is the easiest thing to destroy, and one of the hardest things to rebuild.

“I’m sorry!” Maggie says again, looking like she means it.

Thing is, you can’t take back things like this, and I know for sure not to trust Maggie now.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trashing our friendship over this; I just know how to proceed.

I like hanging out with her and going to the movies and whatnot, but I can’t tell her anything real—not unless I expect her to slip at some point.

Guess I’ll have to seriously consider Richard’s job offer now—I might need a backup plan.

After freshening up, I get ready to meet Richard outside.

I head straight to his limo, and when he gets out and opens the door for me with a beautiful smile, I realize I might have made the biggest mistake of my life when my heart flutters.

I feel like I’m getting used to him already—like an addiction is beginning.

“You’re gonna give me a ride tonight too?” I ask as I enter the limo.

“More than that,” he says, his wording almost stopping my heart.

I’m afraid to ask what he means.

“You are ruining my diet,” I say as he insists I start digging into a dessert.

I’ll definitely save one for later this time—it’s too much richness at once.

“I love you just the way you are, Cherise,” he says, and my heart does a flip-flop.

Why the hell did he say it like that? Doesn’t he know how those words chemically affect my brain and biologically affect my body?

Just say, “I happen to like plump chicks”—don’t frickin’ use the word ‘love!’

Ugh! This man is so much trouble. That was probably a calculated move to fuck with me.

“Have you thought more about my job offer?” he asks.

I certainly have thought about it.

I only had three shifts this week, and though his tip from last night—and tonight—more than makes up for the lack of shifts, I have to think about the long term here.

The decision seems obvious, of course—he is offering me at least double my usual salary, and I am now wary about the atmosphere at my current job.

Everything was fine until he came along, and now, things are probably gonna get weird, and for ten dollars an hour, it doesn’t seem worth it anymore.

Plus, I’ve been dying to try something new.

Plus, any chance to be around this guy more is a hell of a temptation.

There are just so many pros, I don’t know why I haven’t said yes already.

But, of course, I do: the main con is that this guy is potentially dangerous for me.

I can feel that he is capable of sweeping me off my feet in record time, and in perhaps as short a time, he can shatter me to pieces whenever he decides he’s had enough of me.

Dealing with day-to-day bullshit while still having your wits about you is one thing—dealing with day-to-day bullshit while your heart is scattered in pieces…well, that’s another thing altogether. A heartrending breakup is too stressful a thing to take on while living check to check.

I don’t mind going ahead with satisfying my main desire, but I decide to make it a one-shot deal—one night only. If he gets in my pants, I must take it for what it is and be happy I get to get off with such a specimen, then move the fuck on fast.

The longer he gets to keep me, the worse it’ll be for me when it ends, so for my sake, it ends tonight.

“Yes, I have,” I say, “And I’m still undecided.”

“Well, lucky for you, I want you to check out your potential workplace,” he says. “Tonight.”

When I give him a look, he says, “Yes, I’d like you to come back to my place.”

Boy, there’s a line I recognize; I know exactly what
that
means.

“You think I only mean to seduce you,” he says when I don’t respond.

I realize he doesn’t deny that that is his intention.

“Cherise, what is your dream job? Your ultimate goal?”

My ultimate goal is to be stable and have time to volunteer.

I’m still young, and I know it could take a while to get to the point where one feels fairly safe—not having to worry about this bill or that and be able to repair wrecked cars without wondering how to pay the rent.

As for my dream job? I want a job that actually makes a difference. Sure, I can help someone’s night go better over the course of their meal with a smile, but I want more.

“Well, I haven’t exactly nailed down the details yet, but I’d like to have a meaningful job—one that actually makes a positive difference in people’s lives. Young people, probably. A lot of people, either way. I haven’t exactly figured out which way to go just yet, and being a teacher is out of the question; I’m not inclined that way.”

He smiles at me, and I feel like I’ve fallen into some type of trap.

“Consider this the beginning of a trial period for both of us. If you have time this weekend, I’d like you to try the position out. It is, of course, a paid trial, and it’ll give you more time to acquaint yourself with me and my ways. We will both get the chance to see if this arrangement can work for us. During your trial, you won’t have to worry about meals or anything—I have personal chefs and cooks who will take care of us, whether morning, afternoon, or evening. Your hours will not be set—you will work for me from when I need you to…well, whenever I can let you go.”

What the hell did that mean? I’m starting to think his salary offer is appropriate after all.

I start wondering how I’ll travel to him every day, then I catch myself and have to remind myself that I’m not actually going to take him up on his offer—beyond tonight that is.

“What do you do, Richard?” I ask, clearly surprising him.

It takes him a moment before he answers me.

“I am a silver spoon bastard, you might say, so I don’t have to do much of anything—though I do. I stay on the boards, keep my family’s legacy going one way or another. I haven’t really had to work for anything my whole life, though I have spearheaded a few projects and organizations. My latest is more of a pet project, hence why I must be extra picky about who I want to work with me. It is to be kept under wraps to some degree, and I believe you are the right person for the job; it is right up your alley, it seems.”

Boy, he sure knows how to pique my curiosity.

“Tell me more about it,” I say.

“I’ll tell you more when we get home.”

Damn, what a tease.

“Fine,” I say, unable to stop a small smile.

I will go with him and check out his mansion or castle or whatever the fuck he lives in, but the extended trial bullshit can’t happen.

As the limo takes off, anticipation fills me. I’m about to go to this guy’s house—about to see where this sexy specimen lives.

I take heart in the fact that he didn’t just invite me to some hotel room.

When I break this dry spell, it will at least be on the silken sheets of a king-sized bed in a huge mansion.

A
s we pull
up to Richard’s place, my mouth falls open.

I tried to imagine various possibilities, but I was unprepared for the sprawling residence before me, the luxuries hinted at within.

Holy cow—all the tiredness from being on my feet all night dissolves instantly.

This man sure knows how to energize me.

A butler greets us at the door, and as Richard starts to walk me through, I can barely hear him as he points out this and that, my eyes taking in all the signs of his wealth—from the chandeliers and grand piano and paintings to the shining vases and expensive-looking couches.