Page 19 of Seducing the Billionaire

He’d admitted to being overwhelmed, but you wouldn’t guess it now from the way he commands the room. I’d wondered if there would be issues with others not respecting his authority considering half the people in here are twice his age, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Everyone’s attention is on him, with no obvious dissent or resentment in their demeanors.

I find myself getting caught up in watching him too. The way he uses his hands to gesture, the way he listens intently as he asks others for their input on issues, the way his deep voice rumbles as he remarks about shareholders, projected earnings, and other business terms I don’t quite understand.

More than once he gets caught up suggesting something that’s met with a brick wall ofthat’s not how your father did it, but other than that, things are good.

Half an hour in, I look down at my notepad, realizing it’s nearly empty. Crap. How am I supposed to prove to him I’m a great assistant and gain his trust if I keep getting sidetracked? I’ve been doing so good when I’m by myself at my desk. Not gazing into those beautiful blue eyes, the dark slash of his brows, the hint of stubble dotting his jaw… Damn it. I’m not paying attention again.

What am I doing, developing some idiotic crush? He said in no uncertain terms he wasn’t interested.

I keep my head down for the rest of the meeting, diligently documenting anything remotely important, and avoid this Brigham guy’s eye as everyone files out at the end. I never did get him that coffee.

I stand and start putting away the food, silently grateful there’s still so much left. Breakfast is covered for the next week.

“I can help you with that,” Connor says, joining me as I use tongs to place the bagels back in their box.

“You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”

“Ah, but according to the almighty schedule, my next meeting isn’t for another half hour.” He says it teasingly, and I’m thankful he has more of a sense of humor about it today.

“Wish you could just tear the schedule up sometimes?”

“If it was paper, I would.” He grins at me, my heart fluttering the tiniest bit, and I look back down, focusing on packing the muffins up next.

“You know, I was searching through Mr. Bishop’s calendar, and Vivian would put these big chunks of what she called focus time in there.” I affix the lid back on the fruit salad, setting it on top of the muffins. “I think it was just free time to handle any sudden projects or crises that came up. I could do that for you once all these initial meetings die down. So you won’t feel as rushed.”

He nods. “Yes. Do that. Oh, and thanks for making those note cards with my talking points. It helped a lot.”

I allow myself a small smile, glad the additional effort paid off. “Of course. I’ll do it for all your meetings from now on.”

“If it’s a lot of extra work, you don’t have to—”

“Did it make things easier for you?”

He rubs at his jaw, eyeing me speculatively. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

His lips quirk. “If I had you with me over in the Philippines, we could have wrapped up the project months sooner.”

I snort, sliding the packaged food into the tote bag I used to bring it in, and heft it over my shoulder. “I’ve never left New York.”

“Really?” He follows me out of the conference room to the elevators, pressing the call button to return us to the sixtieth floor.

“Yeah, even Manhattan feels foreign sometimes compared to Brooklyn.”

“You come from Brooklyn every day? Isn’t that a hike?”

I shrug. “I use the time on the subway to memorize your schedule.”

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, so that’s how you get it all done.”

The elevator doors open, the car about two-thirds full, and we step on, the others going unnaturally silent in the presence of Connor.

“Sixty?” the man closest to the buttons asks, and Connor nods, his joking manner gone now that we’re not alone. He’s back in boss mode.

The elevator stops again on the next floor up, four more people joining us, and I scoot back, bumping into Connor. “Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs, putting more space between us.

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