Page 1 of Working For A Billionaire

Chapter One

Riley

Ruthless. Unapologetic. Cutthroat.

Those are just a few things I’ve heard about Harrison Rutherford. I’ve also heard that he is devilishly handsome, but I guess that doesn’t matter. At least, it shouldn’t because not like we’ll be dating. We’ll be working together, and attraction to your boss is not something that should come up. It’s these other things that are worrying me. The job is far from ideal, but it will do until I get my business degree.

The sight of the enormous building causes the butterflies in my stomach to flutter as I stand outside, staring up at the top floor windows. My palms are clammy. I follow a small crowd into the building, hoping to blend in.

“Excuse me, miss,” a voice from behind me says.

I jump slightly before turning around slowly and seeing a man standing with a clipboard. He’s wearing khaki pants, a white-collared shirt, and black shoes. An almost uniformed look, and I’m not sure if it serves the purpose of blending in or standing out.

“Yes?” I ask nervously.

"Who are you here to see?" He asks with his pen poised over his clipboard, wanting to sound busier than he really is. It doesn’t really work.

“I uhm… this is my first day,” I say clearing my throat. This is definitely not turning out the way I imagined it would.

He doesn’t say anything to that. “Can I see your ID, please?"

I hand him my driver's license with a clammy palm. He glances at it and then hands it back. "The new assistant," he says with an unexpected chuckle. "Good luck, you are the fourth one this month."

"Fourth?" I gasp, thinking he must be joking. Or I must have the wrong date because I seem to believe it’s only the sixth.

"No, really,” he assures me. “We've had three other girls quit already.” Then, he adds a little more quietly, as if afraid he might be overheard. “It seems they don't like their boss very much."

Ruthless. Unapologetic. Cutthroat.

The words come back to me yet again. I mean, who’d like working for such a man? I shudder at the thought.

"Well... beggars can’t be choosers,” I shrug with an awkward attempt at making a joke. Luckily, he smiles. “I just moved into a new apartment, and you know, my landlord needs to be paid with real money, not pretty pebbles, of which I have a lot, by the way.”

This time, he chuckles out loud. “Maybe you’ll last longer than the rest, who knows? Good luck.” Then, he adds, a little hesitantly, as he’s leaving me alone in the lobby. “You’ll need it.”

I wave gratefully, then I make it upstairs, where I sit in the reception area, twisting my necklace around my index finger nervously while I wait for someone to come and get me. My legs are shaky as I sit for what seems like an eternity. Finally, after another twenty minutes, I hear a loud clap from in front of me, and I jump up to my feet, feeling like a soldier ready for a nonexistent battle.

Looking around the office, I see a man walking in my direction, wearing a black suit and a scowl. He has piercing blue eyes, which look right through me. I’m not even sure he sees me at first. When he reaches the reception desk, he attempts to smile pleasantly. It is a successful attempt, although something tells me there is nothing warm behind it. It is just a formality. He gestures for me to follow him. I do as instructed and follow him into a large office.

He leads me to a large wooden desk set against the wall. There are two chairs next to it, both empty. Taking a seat, he flips through some papers on his desk.

"Name?" He asks. His voice is deep, masculine. It takes me off guard.

"Riley Winters," I say, taking a deep breath, wanting to look at him, but at the same time, afraid to do so.

"Bronxville?" He asks, not clarifying anything, almost as if words cost money and he doesn’t want to spend more than necessary.

"Yes, Bronxville," I reply.

His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. I obviously made a mistake. I feel like a small amoeba under the microscope of his gaze.

"Why did you leave Bronxville?" He clarifies, his voice flat and emotionless.

Because that is where my mother lives. That would have been the right answer, but he doesn’t care about that.

“I was looking for new opportunities,” I shrug, trying to sound important and even slightly indignant, as if I had a million offers and I decided to choose this one. That of course, isn’t true. Far from it, in fact.

He stares at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "I assume they went over your job duties when they hired you. You will have outlasted three of my previous assistants if you are still here next week."

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