Page 5 of Working For A Billionaire

“Relax, it’s just a joke,” I assure her. “I need more to fire someone.”

This is only partly true, but I don’t tell her that.

She scans the room, possibly looking for an escape or maybe a diversion.

"Well…people seem to think you do nothing besides work, and closing a deal means more to you than any human being ever will."

"Well, no person has ever made me millions of dollars, but those deals always do," I shrug.

She sits quietly for a second, thinking over my response. I can tell she doesn't agree.

"What do you do with all that money you make?" She suddenly asks, before taking a sip of the drink.

"Well," I start to answer, then realize I don't have one. "I guess I use it to make more money."

"Oh…" she says, shifting her gaze to the crowd.

"You seem disappointed."

Riley shrugs her shoulders, still gazing into the thinning crowd. "I am just… surprised you wouldn't do something more with it."

I cannot help but feel offended by this remark. "I’ll have you know that my family donates millions of dollars every year to charity."

"Yes, I know. Everyone knows that, but that is not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and sitting back in my chair.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. You could help people with just a fraction of what you make in those deals or help yourself by doing things. You know, live a real life."

"A real life?" I ask, uncrossing my arms. "What does that mean?"

"Well…you're wealthy, intelligent, and handsome. You could do anything, but you choose to spend all your time working. It's a shame. Don't you ever want to experience life?"

"How would you experience life if you were me?" I ask, suddenly curious about her.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I would travel. You know, see how other people live and what the world has to offer. I don't want New York and Las Vegas to be the only parts of the world I experience.” She pauses for a moment, then continues. “Do you travel?"

"Honestly, not really. This is the first trip I have taken in years,” I admit.

"What do you do when you're not working?" She asks, studying my face as if the answer will appear on it.

"I haven't had time for anything else. You are young and see life as an adventure. When you're older, you will see it's not as fun as you think. Everyone has an angle. They always want something from you. You have to figure out what it is and if it's something you are willing to trade."

She looks me over, studying my face for clues before she responds. "You're too young to be so cynical."

"I am not all that young."

"Well, you're certainly not old. I don't understand how someone like you can be so cynical. You have everything. What is there to be upset about? How is it even possible?"

"Years of practice."

"Don't you ever do anything fun?"

Her words sound more like a dare than a question, and her eyes don't leave mine.

"Sure I do," I say with a grin.

"Like what?"

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