Page 18 of Seducing the Billionaire

“You should do it.”

I glance up, finding his blue gaze trained on me. “Really?”

He nods, standing and passing by me to throw his plate away, close enough for me to catch a whiff of that expensive cologne of his. Sigh. “It’s a good idea. Everything’s just happening so fast, you know? Two weeks ago, I was in the Philippines in charge of international projects. Now I’m… here.” I can’t see his face from this angle, but there’s no mistaking his pensive tone.

“Now you’re here.” I’m not sure what else to say, how to console him. I know he didn’t ask for this.

“What would you do?” he whispers.

My brows raise. “If I were you?”

He nods, still turned away.

What wouldn’t I do? It’s like the dream of winning the lottery. Estate on a private island. Indulgent luxury vacations. Never having to lift a finger again as my personal attendants satisfy all my whims.

And yet, here he is at work, struggling to fill his father’s shoes. And from what I can tell, he didn’t even seem to like him all that much.

“You don’t have to do any of this, you know. You could take it all and nope out of here if you wanted.” That’s what I’d do, at least.

He glances over his shoulder, lips twisted to the side. “I could,” he agrees.

“But you won’t.” I study him quietly, appreciating the opportunity to freely look my fill. “You said something about fulfilling your father’s legacy. But maybe you should focus on creating your own.”

“My own legacy,” he murmurs. “What do you have in mind?”

Oh God, I have to come up with something now? “Um, you could start a nonprofit? Or a new branch of the company?” Or even buy Montague Media…

He nods. “I’ll think about it.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. “What about you?”

“Me?” What’s he talking about?

“You said your dad has expectations of you. Are you still trying to live up to them or making your own path?”

WhatamI doing? Dad wants me to seduce Connor, but am I actually capable of that? Especially after he made it clear he wasn’t interested? And let’s say I somehow got past that hurdle. Would I even want to? He’s not at all what I expected when I reluctantly agreed to Dad’s demands. Some guy in his mid-twenties who grew up rich and just inherited more money? I imagined some lazy, entitled playboy. Not a man who seems to genuinely care about his leadership of the company, who works harder than anyone else here, who had to immediately lecture me on professionalism.

“I’m not sure,” I admit, unable to voice to him what the expectation laid out for me is. “I’m taking things one day at a time.” That much is true, at least. And trying to be a good assistant isn’t hurting anything.

He nods, staring at me for a moment before he looks away and clears his throat. “Hire someone and do whatever you want upstairs. I’ll leave the decisions to you. And don’t worry about a budget.” No budget? I can only imagine living that way.

He leaves me to greet our Chief of Communications as she enters, and the room soon fills up after that, several of them looking pleasantly surprised at the breakfast offerings available as they head over to load up a plate. Like these people need it, though. All of their salaries have to be ridiculous.

I check off the attendees on my list as more chiefs trickle in until we’re only waiting for the Chief Financial Officer. From what I understand, that was Connor’s brother’s job previously, so this guy is fairly new to the company as well.

He finally enters a few minutes after the meeting’s scheduled beginning, and as the blond-haired man spots me at the door, he gives me a slow perusal. “Haven’t seen you around here before. You new?”

I keep my sigh to myself. Why do some guys have to be so blatantly obvious? “Yes. I’m Mr. Bishop’s assistant while Vivian’s out on leave.”

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Ew. I hate it when guys call me that. “Emma,” I tell him through tight lips.

“Get me a coffee, will you, Emma? Cream and sugar.” He winks and flashes me a smile as he rounds the table to take a seat, but the effect isn’t as charming as he must think it is.

I suppress my eye roll as I turn toward the coffee urn, and pause as I catch sight of Connor, his brows narrowed at me. Did I not hold back the eye roll as much as I thought I did?

He comes over, bending in close to whisper, “Schedule a meeting for me this afternoon with Mr. Brigham. I don’t like the way he spoke to you. In the future, tell him it’s not your job to get him coffee.”

I nod, holding my breath until he turns around, striding toward the head of the boardroom table, an aura of power settling over him as he addresses the room at large, welcoming them. I hurriedly pull out my notepad to take notes, listening to him as he talks about Bishop Industries staying the course and continuing the traditions his father set forth, similar to his remarks last week as he met with the board of directors.

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