Page 7 of My Cruel Billionaire

“Then why?”

I couldn’t keep the despair out of my voice when I asked him.

“Because of several reasons. For one thing, I’m moving to another city for a while. I have a lot of new ventures to oversee. And for another, well, quite frankly, your work as my personal assistant leaves something to be desired.”

That came as a massive blow. I think maybe him saying that I was incompetent was just as painful as the breakup. If not, it was a close second.

“The sex, as good as it is, is not enough to make me ignore your poor work performance.”

“What are you saying, Michael?” I gasped, totally crushed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he sniffed and shrugged as if it was no big deal. “You’re fired.”

Chapter Three

Jenna

My mind returned to my present circumstances, staring eye-to-eye with Michael Wallace. The man who fired me and broke up with me on the same day five years ago.

And he didn’t recognize me. Not even a glimmer.

“Are you all right, miss?” the waitress cut in, but my eyes didn’t stray toward her.

“I’m fine,” I said without really thinking.

My eyes were focused on Michael’s face. I was searching for any flicker of recognition, any semblance that I might have made a lasting impression on him. Instead, he was watching me with a polite smile.

I thought he had ripped my heart out five years ago, but I was learning right now that I was wrong. Because it was starting to crack in my chest with the strain of his smile as he waited for me to thank him.

Instead, I turned around and left without looking back.

The last man I’d expected to run into was Michael, and yet it had happened. It’s all I thought about my entire way back home and it plagued me through the night.

The next day, I scrambled out of the office at around five thirty pm. I had originally planned to be out of there by three thirty, four at the latest. But then the vice president of international development called me with a minor crisis, and I had to do a lot of mental gymnastics to figure out a solution.

Naturally, every single thing that could have gone wrong, did go wrong. I couldn’t catch a cab for the life of me, and when I eventually did get one the driver spoke so little English he took me to the wrong apartment building. Twice.

He cussed me out when I didn’t tip. At least, I think it was cursing. Obviously I didn’t speak the same language, but his eyes and tone suggested that he thought I was kind of a piece of shit. Well, he made me even later than I had to be.

I raced inside the building lobby and took the elevator to the top. I broke into a half-run as I made it down the carpeted hallway. An elderly man with his arms full of mail and a garbage bag glared at me as I went past.

“Sorry, Mr. Lipkins,” I said as I passed him.

“Humph. You youngsters are always in such a hurry.”

“You know how it is, Mr. Lipkins. This is the city that never sleeps after all.”

“I couldn’t sleep thanks to your kid screaming at the top of his lungs.”

I frowned at him, but at that point he had gone back into his apartment. Funny, I thought he was on his way out. Maybe he was and forgot. Or maybe he didn't want to give me a chance to respond to his zinger.

At any rate, I made it to apartment 227 and rapped on the door. From behind the polished wood surface, I heard a muffled scream.

“Mom!”

Thump thump thump bang!

A small child had run across the floor and then collided with the door so hard it shuddered. I winced as the sound of a latch being undone reached my ears. The door swung open and a four-year-old boy with wispy blonde hair and liquid blue eyes threw his arms around my stocking-clad legs.

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