Page 122 of Billionaire Bachelor
I waited until I was sure they were gone before exiting my office. Before I could think better of it, I winked at Miss Montgomery’s double take as I passed the coffee cart on my way out of the building. I wasn’t about to show my cards, but what was the harm in letting her sweat it out? If nothing else, it would teach her to guard her personal conversations more carefully while in the office.
QUINN
If he didn’t pay me so much, I swear I would’ve quit on my first day. Okay, that was a lie; I worked damn hard to get this position and I intended to keep it for as long as it suited my goals. He may have been an insufferable asshole, but Ronan Maxwell was a brilliant businessman. You didn’t become the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation if you weren’t. Sure, he inherited the role from his father, but he’d deserved it. In fact, I think because this was his family’s legacy, he worked even harder to prove himself.
Not that he’d admit that. The bastard was far too cocky.
Before me, Mr. Maxwell had a revolving door of EAs. No one lasted more than a few months because they couldn’t handle the stress. The man had ridiculously high standards, but he practiced what he preached, so I couldn’t really fault him for it. It was his delivery of those expectations that made me want to backhand him more often than not.
Besides, I was too stubborn to give up. My mother always told me that I was the most pigheaded person she’d ever met. Little did she know at the time how valuable that particular trait would become. I’d learned so much from Ronan Maxwell over the last two years—things I didn’t need to know for my current position, but he’d taken the time to teach me anyway.
Hospitality was never on my radar before because I was a numbers geek through and through, but now that I better understood the scope of it, I loved it. Putting up with my asshole boss gave me the best chance of success in this field.
“Nice of you to finally show up. I thought at this point you had taken the rest of the day off.” I looked up, startled by the deep voice. Mr. Maxwell was standing in the doorway to my office that served as the antechamber to his.
“Of course not, Mr. Maxwell.” My voice was sugary sweet but laced with arsenic. “I would never dream of doing such a thing without permission.”
He folded his arms and leveled me with a glare. “What took you so damn long?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “This is Los Angeles, sir. Traffic at any time of day is a nightmare. Since you decided to send me across town in the middle of the evening rush hour on a Friday, it was even worse. My apologies for not having the ability to steamroll over thousands of vehicles so I could return sooner.”
I’d swear he was stifling a laugh. “I want the final travel itinerary for Hawaii on my desk by seven. And order some food from Emperor’s Dragon. I’ll have the Chicken Manchurian with a side of barbeque pork. Get something for yourself, too. We have a lot more to cover before the day is through.” With that, he spun on his heels, slamming his office door behind him.
Ugh, I didn’t know what had crawled up his ass, but he’d been even worse than usual this week. I’d gone home no earlier than nine o’clock every evening. I foolishly thought that since it was Friday, he’d let me go at a reasonable hour. Instead, while everyone else was heading home for the weekend, I was stuck here with the biggest dick on the planet. Knowing him, I’d be lucky to get out of here before midnight.
* * *
“Mr. Maxwell, did you hear what I said?”
He blinked rapidly. “No.”
What was wrong with him? He was the most observant man I knew. He was normally ten steps ahead of everyone else, in every situation. Tonight, he was abnormally quiet and staring off into space a lot. It was freaking me out.
“I said, I really don’t think we should charge our guests for the luau. They’re paying at least five hundred dollars per night, which easily covers the expense. It should be a perk, like free continental breakfast.”
“Miss Montgomery, correct me if I’m wrong, but you are rather a savant with numbers, correct?” Mr. Maxwell said, as if he thought I was adorably naïve. “And a Stanford graduate?”
I gritted my teeth. “Were those rhetorical questions?”
He raised an absurdly sexy eyebrow. “Why would I waste my breath uttering rhetorical questions?”
“Because we both know you already know the answer to both of those questions.” I narrowed my eyes for emphasis.
The bastard smirked as he stood up and rounded his desk. “Indulge me, if you will.”
I sighed. “Yes, I am rather proficient with financial analysis and both my bachelor’s and MBA are from Stanford.”
He leaned against the edge of the mahogany and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, as an Ivy League graduate, one could assume you were familiar with the concept that higher profits for any business was a good thing, correct?”
White-hot visions of jamming my spikey shoe into his shin ran through my head.
“Yes. Your point being?”
“My point is that our target clientele can easily afford to pay admission to a luau. Why wouldn’t we want to increase our profits by charging them for it? Especially for one of this caliber? Plus, when have we ever offered a free meal service?”
I was clenching my jaw so hard, I swore I was about to do permanent damage. I didn’t like the fact that he was looming over me so I rose from my chair and mimicked his posture. “Never.”
“Exactly. Now, tell me, Miss Montgomery, what type of hotel chain does offer free continental breakfasts?”
