The Billionaire's Assistant (Contemporary BWWM Interracial Romance) (The Billionaire's Proposition Book 1) (7 page)

T
he days flew
by and Naomi soon felt silly about her initial apprehension about Kevin crossing the line between them.

Every night so far, he asked her to join him for dinner, and as suspicious as she had been after their first night, he only asked her about her day and she told him about her errands, what new vegetable she’d been enlightened her about—the various ways it could be used and how it was going to be used in their dinner that night.

She started to think she had made things up about the way he had looked at her the first night, about how many seconds he had stood at her threshold watching her.

It must’ve been just a second of making sure everything was all right with her before he took off—not like he was aching to cross that threshold and take her in his arms at all.

Though it had only been a few days since she started, and she enjoyed their dinners immensely, she still couldn’t help wondering, Was this daily evaluation usually required? If so, for how long? A week?

She wasn’t all that experienced or knowledgeable in the ways of the filthy rich, and she knew she was Kevin’s personal assistant of sorts, but weren’t they getting a bit too up close and personal? Was this normal?

She wanted to ask him, but she didn’t want to upset him and risk losing the perk—the food was amazing, and she enjoyed spending time with him.

But she was getting more and more uncomfortable with how she felt about him, and the intimacy of talking to him about her life made it all worse.

She trusted him more than she should, and she sometimes overshared.

Today, like every other day so far, she excitedly went about her day in tingling anticipation of dinner with him that evening and she couldn’t help it.

“Is something bothering you?” he suddenly asked as the main course was set before them.

Once again, she found herself unable to hide or lie to him.

“Sort of,” she said to her horror.

“What is it?”

“I just…is it normal for your personal assistants to have dinner with you every night?”

His mouth quirked with a tiny smile.

“No,” he said. “I must admit, I find myself enjoying your company very much, and I’ve grown sort of used to you already; your presence is a comfort to me. But if you’re uncomfortable with it, we can stop, of course. I will make arrangements for you to join the others in the servants’ quarters for dinner instead.”

“You know that’s not fair; your food is better, I’m sure,” she said lightly, her heart dropping at his suggestion, and not because of the slight inconvenience of having to walk a little further for dinner.

The other pros and cons were obvious: she had the boss’s ear directly for a long period of time, and she enjoyed his company as well.

There was only one con to eating with him: her ever-growing attraction to him; she enjoyed his company a little too much.

But there was no way she could tell him that.

He smiled a brief, social smile.

“The food is good over there as well, and the company. The other women like you, and you perhaps have more in common and more to talk about. I understand completely if you’d rather spend time with them.”

He was toying with her, right?

Was he actually trying to make her say out loud how much more she preferred his company over anyone’s?

Did he wanted her to admit how much his presence made her feel fulfilled?

And was she really considering giving up her perks just so she didn’t have to feel her heart beating relentlessly against her chest at his nearness?

She tried to ignore her emotions and focus on the facts to come to a sensible conclusion.

“You don’t have to decide this second, Naomi, but let me know soon—I must give the chef a heads-up. And forgive me, but I must put in a word for myself—I do prefer having company for dinner—preferably yours. I find you interesting, so it’s completely selfish on my part wanting to have you with me. But please—don’t feel bad if it makes you too uncomfortable; I won’t hold it against you. I really do understand.”

What was it he understood? The inappropriate intimacy of it? How much every moment spent with him only made her want more?

She held her tongue.

She thought again about spending at least one dinner with the older ladies, and as much as she figured it was the right thing to do, and that it could also serve to make sure they continued to have good rapport and not resent her if they hadn’t started to already—she couldn’t bear the thought of not being near Kevin and seeing his handsome face.

Maybe in a day or two.

N
aomi fought
the urge to call Jenna again as she settled into her bedroom for the night.

She wasn’t sure if Jenna was working a shift or not, though she had used that as an excuse for her not calling any of the past few nights, even though she knew Jenna didn’t work every night.

Her hand reached for her phone but poised midair.

She missed having someone to talk to about everything, and boy did she need someone to talk to now. Her mind was reeling.

She wanted to tell someone so badly how confused she was—how it didn’t seem like she was hired because she was needed at all.

Her hand redirected itself to the book on her nightstand instead; she had a feeling she knew what Jenna would say.

“It’s ‘cause he wants to fuck you,” she imagined Jenna saying with a straight face, totally serious.

To Jenna, that’s all every guy ever wanted. Anytime they spoke a word to you outside of giving work orders, it was to get one step closer to manipulating you into the horizontal tango—or however they wanted to position you.

“I’m just telling you like it is, girl. You’re still a virgin so you don’t know yet—you think there’s got to be more, but there isn’t. It’s biological. All they want to do is fuck.”

She had actually told Naomi this once, and Naomi had no leg to stand on when it came to their discussions about sex since she had no experience to pit against Jenna’s extensive experience.

She couldn’t argue with her, but she couldn’t buy her view just yet.

Surely, there was more? Surely there were some guys who wanted more than just finding new girls to have sex with? Why did any of them ever bother getting married then?

“So there’s a constant fuck buddy available,” Jenna had said when they’d talked about it once. “At least half of them still dip outside the marriage, but that’s for more excitement, to change things up a little. The girl they’re cheating with doesn’t even have to be all that good-looking—just different. I guarantee you that every man would have plenty of wives and concubines if we allowed them to. Some of ‘em decide it’s not worth it to lose the one they have—a sure thing—to the chance of many. I mean, sometimes guys get stuck on a girl in an emotional way, but if given the chance to fuck others while being able to keep that one, you don’t think they’d take it? Men only stay faithful if they think not doing so will cause them to lose the girl they want to own.”

To hear Jenna talk about courtship and relationships, in general, made Naomi want to keep her legs closed even tighter.

She had to be careful—she didn’t want to just hand over her virginity to some guy who’d be like, “Thanks,” and disappear—like she did him some service he didn’t even compensate her properly for.

“The worst is when you don’t even get to come,” Jenna told her more than once. “Like, what’s the fucking point then? I let you fuck me and you can’t even make sure I get to come? Nah. That’s why I’m really careful these days—I make sure to fuck only those I’m getting something out of. Even if it’s just that they’re super hot and I want to fuck ‘em anyway. That way, even if I don’t come, I get to satisfy my curiosity, and I have the memories of those abs and biceps.”

Naomi had burst out laughing then.

“So your partners are restricted to super hot guys and guys who…pay you in some way?”

“I’m no prostitute! They don’t give me money directly. I just make sure they take me to nice places and stuff like that; I at least get some good dinners and shit, or some jewelry.”

Judgment must have come over her face because Jenna quickly said, “Trust me, it’s best to get something material at least, otherwise you feel real bad when you end up with nothing when they take off. Like, you seriously feel robbed sometimes—I’m not kidding you. Like they should get some jail time for theft. Do you know how many times I wished I could take the pussy back somehow? But no, you can’t. They got you. They busted a nut, and they’re moving on to the next girl who just lets ‘em bust a nut and they’ve forgotten all about you. They get away with whatever you let ‘em get away with, and when it comes to sex, they always get what they want: to bust a nut, so you have to take what you need from them while you can. That’s why I’m perfectly happy to do what I’m doing. Might as well get something from them I can use in exchange for them getting to look at all this.”

She had slowly moved her hands down over her boobs then down to her ass, shaking it a little once she reached it, and again making Naomi giggle.

Naomi smiled at the memory as she flipped open her book to the bookmark.

She tried to focus—tried not to think about her best friend being on the verge of literally getting paid to have sex on video.

Her fingers itched to call Jenna again, but she talked herself out of it.

Jenna was a big girl.

She also didn’t need to talk to Jenna about her own changed life.

What would be the point?

It would probably end up sounding like a brag—how much she was getting paid to do so little.

Plus, she had little to no interaction with others, and she didn’t have to smile all the time or deal with people who couldn’t make up their damned mind about a mocha or latte, or who asked for gluten-free bagels.

Overall, she was happy—no need to rub it in Jenna’s face.

Her living quarters were delicious, the free cooking lessons and tips she got from professional cooks were delicious, the food was ridiculously delicious, and her boss was utterly scrumptious.

She let out a breath.

That was the only problem—she didn’t know what her boss was really up to, and she couldn’t prepare for it.

What did he really want?

Surely just some company at dinner wasn’t all.

W
ardrobe notes
?

Naomi frowned as she read the note shoved under her door—most likely left by Jeffrey.

She was required to dress very casually today—even more-so than before, and she giggled at the pictorial examples of what her outfit was to be like.

Did she even have anything like that?

She went to the closet to see if something was hiding in there and realized that, at some point, someone had added a few new outfits and shoes to it—probably when she was at dinner.

She picked out an appropriate outfit easily, wondering what Kevin was up to.

Why did she have to look so sporty?

She wondered if it had anything to do with it being a Saturday—was this required weekend wear?

The note also said to meet Mr. Davenport at breakfast at eight today, an hour later than the usual time, and she almost didn’t know what to do with the extra time she’d been given.

She ended up getting there before him, unable to sit still in her room any longer.

He greeted her with a bright “Good morning, Naomi!” and she couldn’t help smiling wide at his boyish enthusiasm.

He sat down, and breakfast was put in front of them, still steaming.

Before he dug in, he checked out her outfit and nodded his approval.

She tried to ignore the way his eyes traveled over her exposed skin.

She’d never worn shorts around him before and felt exposed.

She looked at him questioningly as he took a swig of orange juice.

“I need to clear my head and get some exercise in,” he began.

She nodded, wondering what it had to do with her.

“I’m going to play some squash and I’d like to bring you, my personal assistant, along in case I need someone to grab lemonade or something.”

“Oh,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

She stared down at the breakfast quiche, not really seeing it.

His silence made her look back up, and she realized he was staring at her, his eyes almost shimmering with suppressed laughter, his mouth failing to stay neutral as it twitched with his amusement.

“I’m not serious about that,” he said, finally letting out a full smile. “One of the reasons I want to bring you along is because when you said you weren’t good at anything, I took that as a challenge. Have you ever played squash before?”

She shook her head.

She didn’t know a thing beyond squash the vegetable, which Chef Manuel, or “Manny” as Kevin called him, had been teaching her about just the other day.

“Well, it’s a two- to four-player game, and since I’m not up for doubles, it’s just you and me; I need a partner to bounce off of.”

“But surely, there are others you can play with who actually know what they’re doing?”

Who did he normally play with, for crying out loud?

“It’s not about that. I told you—I want to see what you’ve got. I don’t believe you’re as talentless as you say you are.”

She shrugged and stuffed a bite of the quiche in her mouth.

“Well, don’t say you haven’t been warned.”

“
N
ot bad
,” Kevin said as they finished their final game, both sweaty and energized by their matches.

She gave him a look she knew communicated just how full of shit she thought he was.

“Told ya,” she said as she gave up her racquet. “I’m not particularly athletic.”

“You know, I’m going to surprise you, Naomi. You’ll find out you have a knack for things in unexpected places—you’ll see. In fact, I’d like you to come with me tomorrow as well. This is not a demand or order—I know Sunday is your day off and I wouldn’t blame you if you just wanted to relax and fly through a few books.”

Like a date?
she wondered.

“Not like a date,” he said as if reading her mind—or the face she’d been told was so expressive. “I’m inviting you as a friend. I have a low-key activity planned, and I want you to be a part of it. It’s another thing that requires a bit of skill—another learning opportunity. You up for the challenge?”

How could she refuse him with that playful tone and a wink like that?

Still, she couldn’t help asking, “But what is it?”

“Nope!” he said with an impish grin. “It’s a surprise. You’ll have to trust me.”

He waggled his eyebrows so ridiculously, she burst into laughter.

“
D
on’t be afraid
,” he said to her in a voice more gentle than she thought he was capable of.

Afraid? She’d witnessed brutal fights almost to the death between angry teenage boys built like burly men, and she’d survived a holdup at one of the fast food places she used to work at.

Why would she be afraid of mounting a horse?

It was a beautiful, sunny day with clear skies, and with yards of uninterrupted terrain before her, a professional instructor patiently guiding her every step of the way, and Kevin’s calm, supportive voice in her ear—she had no need to fear.

But she couldn’t fool herself; she was terrified.

Horses looked so peaceful and majestic on T.V.

In person, the sheer size of the mahogany creature put her on edge.

It was a real, live animal—a large one that could decide it didn’t like her and throw her off then trample her if it wanted to.

It was a living, breathing thing with unpredictable reactions and responses and heft on its side.

But the instructor walked her through, kept her calm, and soon, she was sitting astride it and delight sat along her trepidation.

She looked forward to the new experience.

I
t was only
her first time, and she enjoyed the adventure, but nothing had clicked—she was no natural.

“I suppose competitive horse riding is not in my future either,” she said to Kevin as they got ready to leave.

He shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Well,” he said in a voice as if finally giving up on her, “Manny said you have a knack for unique seasoning ideas, so…”

She shoved him like she’d shove any teasing friend, and he smiled warmly, right before grabbing her to him and going in for a kiss.

The only reaction she had time for was to melt into it, disbelieving that after all the days and nights she imagined what it would be like to be held in his strong arms, his lips against hers, here it was.

Their tongues met and danced, but suddenly, he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking pained as his hold on her slackened.

His eyes were still closed, as if trying to block her out.

She watched his struggle, searching for the proper words to respond with.

All she wanted was to feel his lips again, but instead, she just held on to him since he hadn’t completely let her go.

Finally, she said, “I’m not sorry, Kevin. I’m not sorry at all.”

His eyes opened and he smiled at her, his face transforming with gentleness and affection.

“I’ll miss you at dinner tonight,” he said, squeezing her hand.

N
aomi had finally been
able to reach Jenna two days before, and she was glad they were finally getting the formalities of her exit out of the way.

She was relieved Kevin was letting her use her work car as a personal car as well; in fact, he had refused to give her access to her old car.

“It’s parked until you’re ready to move on and leave me behind. We’ll have it fixed up good and new for you so the other college kids won’t laugh at you.”

When she first told him she had planned to meet up with Jenna that evening as they got up from the breakfast table, he asked her why her voice was so heavy.

“Is she mad at you for the last-minute notice?”

She had nodded, yet when she looked up at him, he had a question in his eyes but said no more about it.

And now, the closer she got to their agreed-upon location, the dread in her stomach grew.

Jenna had initially proposed they meet at the coffee shop she used to work at, and she decided to let her know exactly why it was a bad idea.

In the note she’d left, she had only told her she’d found a new place to live—not that she had gotten fired and now had a new job. And certainly not that she was living where she worked.

Jenna knew nothing of her new life at all, and it felt strange to have her so abruptly shut out.

N
aomi expected
to see a glowering Jenna, or a slightly peeved-looking Jenna, but what she met instead was a neutral, guarded Jenna.

When Jenna spotted her, she got up from her seat and they hugged each other as usual, but there was no warmth in it—not on Jenna’s part, at least.

But Naomi wasn’t surprised.

Jenna shoved the book she’d accidentally left behind toward her, and Naomi took it, then pulled out her old keys and handed them over.

Jenna had insisted over the phone that Naomi didn’t owe her any money—even though Naomi hadn’t even given her a proper thirty-day notice.

Jenna told her to forget about it; she would find another roommate in no time.

“So. New job, huh?” Jenna began. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, I work in a sort of domestic capacity…”

“Oh, a maid, huh? Look at you—moving on up in the world.”

Naomi curbed her irritation.

“Not a maid exactly—although that’s sort of what I thought at first. I just help this guy out at home. Well, not just some guy—he’s some really rich guy with a mansion and a number of personal workers, and I’m sort of a personal assistant to him and the household. I help out with things like…”

At some point, she realized she had been babbling and flushed with embarrassment.

She also realized Jenna’s eyes hadn’t warmed up, though she had some semblance of a smile on her face.

“Well, you’re certainly glowing, so I’m guessing this rich guy’s pretty hot. Where do you live now?”

Naomi hesitated before answering. “At his estate. He has these sort of servant quarters,” she said quickly.

Naomi felt guilty for the implied lie, but no way was she telling Jenna she was staying in a guest bedroom.

“Whoa. How convenient for you! So he helped you make good on your word, huh?
As soon as possible
.” Jenna’s smile widened briefly, but her eyes still looked cold. “Gotta say, Naomi—I still think it was a dick move, leaving me like that.”

“Really, Jen? Considering what happened? Look, I know it was sudden, but can you blame me? You disregarding my safety the way you did—now
that
was a dick move, I’d say. I love you, Jenna, but I need to feel secure.”

Jenna’s fake, snarling smile returned.

“Is that what you’re up to then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you’re working for some super-rich guy now—is he your ticket out? You finally joined the ranks of sugar babies and let him fuck you for security? What do you wear to work, I wonder? How much is your allowance?”

Naomi suppressed her rage.

“It’s not like that, Jenna.”

“You expect me to believe that? You should see the way your eyes have been lighting up talking about him, the smiles you keep trying to hide. He’s keeping you happy somehow.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Does he have a huge dick?”

“Jenna! For your information, I’m still a virgin!”

“Not for long, honey. Look, I gotta go. Congrats on moving on up, and welcome to the ranks. I’ll see you around.”

Jenna grabbed her bag and left just as her order arrived, leaving Naomi dumbfounded, her mind reeling.

Was Jenna right? Everything Kevin…Mr. Davenport had been doing for her was just to get in her pants after all?

Sure, she’d felt like her services weren’t really needed, but he had given her a job out of the kindness of his heart, right? He had looked so sorry for her.

But the facts didn’t escape her—there he was, requiring her to have dinner with him every night, and most recently inviting her out with him for various activities.
Dating
-type activities.

My goodness, he had tricked her!

He’d initially said he wasn’t that kind of guy, that he didn’t see her that way, but it was a lie—he was slowly turning into an escort.

He’d been pretty slick about it so far, but the proof was in the pudding: he was paying her to be with him; he was turning her into a high-class whore.

She saw his game clearly now; everything he’d done so far was just to get her in bed, no matter how affectionately he seemed to look at her at times.

Perhaps she’d hurt his pride the day she cussed him out, and she presented a challenge he wanted to take on.

Perhaps he was planning to make her pay for sassing off to him. He was going to prove to her that he could have anything he wanted.

He’d been paying a pretty penny for it so far—although, to him it was probably like tossing a quarter in a beggar’s cup—but what it all boiled down to was that he basically paid to kiss her earlier that day, and no doubt, he had plans for more.

Well, she refused to be a high-class whore; she would not be paid for her companionship and her body.

Jenna was absolutely right—the way she’d seen him looking at her, he’ll want more than a kiss soon, and she wasn’t quite ready to give it to him.

She had to find a way to enforce boundaries; she must refuse him somehow.

But could she?

At the thought of icing him out, something else raged inside her; a battle between opposing forces waged.

She acknowledged that she felt a stirring for him she’d never felt before.

She had experienced a bout of puppy love in her teens, but in no way did it compare to the turmoil swirling in her now—the way her heart pounded, the way her breath quickened at the sight, sound, or smell of him. The way she longed to see him, have him take her against him and…

She shook her head.

She couldn’t afford to be indulging in these thoughts—she had to keep him at arms’ length for her own sake.

A man like him was used to getting everything he wanted, and once he got her, no doubt he’d get bored and toss her aside at some point.

She couldn’t let that happen—she had to protect her heart and her sanity. She couldn’t let some gorgeous billionaire ruin her.