Page 4 of The Billionaire Alpha's Assistant

I raise my eyebrows. “Nine p.m.?”

“He is the CEO, Ms. Langley. Mr. Cabrera Garcia is intimately involved in every facet of this company’s operations. A seventy- to eighty-hour workweek is standard for him, as it is for his assistant. But if you feel this position will be too demanding for you —”

“No!” I say quickly. “Not at all. I . . . I’m actually surprised I’ll get to leave so early.”

Doubt flickers in Vivian’s eyes, but she pulls a tight smile. “I’m happy to hear it. You will also be expected to accompany Mr. Cabrera Garcia to his lodge in Aspen. He often works from there Fridays and Mondays.”

“And I’m supposed to go with him?” I ask.

“Yes. There are guest accommodations you’re more than welcome to use. He usually works through the weekend.”

I raise my eyebrows. I read the job description for Rafael Cabrera Garcia’s assistant, and I’m certain that working weekends from my boss’s vacation home wasn’t in the listing.

I swallow. Catering to the needs of the most overprivileged man in America isn’t exactly how I planned on spending my weekends, but the closer I can get to Mr. Cabrera Garcia, the juicier the details I’ll have for my story.

RAFAEL

Condominiums and officebuildings rise up on both sides of the road, blocking any view of the mountains. The streets are choked with traffic this time of day, and inching through the gridlock with all this raw horsepower beneath my foot is frustrating, to say the least.

Owning a Ferrari is pointless when you live in the city. This car needs wide-open highways and mountain roads, but with snow already blanketing the nearby peaks, she’s confined to the dry streets of Denver until summer.

My skin itches with the urge to shift, and I crack my neck to release some of the tension building in my spine. I cut my morning run short so I wouldn’t be late, and my wolf isn’t happy about it.

The valet takes my keys when I pull up, and a man standing outside the building opens the door to let me pass. The scent of espresso, floor wax, and cologne hits me the moment I enter the lobby. Every head snaps in my direction, and most people quickly avert their eyes. It’s a natural reaction to an alpha wolf, though most humans think they find me intimidating because I’m CEO.

People trip over themselves to get out of my way, and when I approach the open elevator, two tech guys jump out so they don’t have to ride with me.

My wolf preens at the way they submit, but it makes my human half sick to my stomach. I grew up a poor kid in La Alma. I’ll never get used to the nonstop ass-kissing or the way people scatter when they see me coming.

Eight o’clock isn’t an early start time for a CEO, but I’ve been up since four. I’ve always been an early riser, and my wolf likes the routine. I meditate. I knock out some work. Then I go for a run, lift weights, and take a cold shower.

Every second of my day is designed for optimal performance. I can’t afford anything less. I have a multibillion-dollar company and thousands of employees riding on my shoulders. I also have my pack, my mom, and my little sister to think about.

When I was a kid, my mom worked three jobs to support us, and we still had to scrape for everything we had. I’ve made it my life’s mission to make sure my family never wants for anything ever again. That’s why I demand perfection from myself and everyone who works for me.

Vivian is waiting just outside the elevator when the doors open up, and my wolf snarls at the intrusion. Vivian is nothing if not effective, but she can be overbearing, and she puts my wolf on edge.

“Good morning, sir.”

“Morning, Vivian,” I mutter, striding past her to reach my office before she can bombard me with my to-do list.

“The latest numbers are on your desk,” she trills, nipping at my heels. “There was some negative feedback on Match candidates on the latest rollout, which I’m sure Mark will discuss with you. Applications for your new executive assistant have closed. Your new assistant, Alex Langley, is waiting in your office.”

I pause outside my office door and whip around to face her. When I suggested we have our AI choose my new assistant, I hadn’t expected HR to take me seriously. I figured Margie would spend weeks vetting whoever the algorithm chose and end up selecting a candidate herself. “He’s here? Already?”

“Uh, well —”

I throw open the door without waiting for an answer and stop dead in my tracks. A woman is bent over my desk, a glass of green juice in hand. Straight dark hair hangs just past her shoulders, and a pair of big brown eyes snap up to meet mine.

Alex, apparently, is a she. The tops of her creamy thighs are just visible over my desk, and for a moment, all I can do is stare.

“Mr. Cabrera Garcia, this is Alex Langley. Alex —”

My new executive assistant straightens up at the introduction, sloshing green juice all over my desk. Her full pouty lips part in surprise, and her cheeks flush a delectable shade of pink.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll get that cleaned up.” Alex shuffles around my desk, tugging at the hem of her skirt. It’s a little shorter than what’s appropriate and shows off the most gorgeous pair of legs I’ve ever seen in my life. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Cabrera Garcia,” she says, meeting my gaze for longer than most people manage before sticking out her hand.

“It’s good to meet you, Ms. Langley.”

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