Page 5 of The Billionaire Player

I looked at the amount of people waiting for what I could only assume was to be interviewed and how attractive they were. They reminded me more of a casting call for a modeling show than people looking for a chance to work for minimum wage. I couldn’t understand why so many people would want a job with a billionaire playboy who had no idea what he was doing running a restaurant, but maybe that was exactly why they were there, to see him.

They were all dressed in what could only be described as club wear or something someone would wear to a fancy dinner party. Most of the people were posing in front of the restaurant taking selfies and then looking at their phones to put them up on social media. It appeared to be the social event of the season and one that I was ill equipped or dressed for.

Squaring my shoulders, I walked up to the woman with the tablet.

“Hello. I’m Alexandria Ricci. I’m here to see Jack Bennett.” I said.

“Get in line,” she muttered.

“For the reality competition? I think I’ll pass. I think my IQ might be too high to do that,” I said.

“You’re feisty. Are you here for the host position?” she asked.

“No. I’m here to interview him,” I said.

It was a risk to tell her flat out what I was doing there, she was just as likely to kick me out as anything else. If I wanted access to the man, I needed to stand out from everyone else and being honest seemed to be the best approach.

“Ah, you’re the one. You picked a hell of a day to start the interview,” she said.

“Who are all these people? I feel like I walked in on a modeling contest.”

“They wish. The news of the interviews was leaked on social media and most of the people out here showed up hoping to get one. They didn’t even apply online, much less bring a resume.”

“Over a host job? Do they know what it entails?”

“Probably not. Which is why they won’t get in the front door. Are you sure you want to see JD right now? It’s been a day already; he might not be in the best of moods. I can see about setting up an appointment for later in the week,” she offered.

“No. I actually would like to do it now, if that’s okay.”

“Be my guest. It’s your funeral. I’ll be out here so you’re on your own if you need backup.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good luck,” she said, opening up the door for me.

I heard a few calls of annoyance as I walked inside but I paid them no mind. As I moved into the restaurant my eyes immediately fell on the bar. I could tell it was meant to be the centerpiece of the restaurant. It was gorgeously done in deep dark browns and black leather. The plush leather surrounded the edge of the bar and along the sides made me feel I had walked into a speakeasy or gentlemen’s club from the prohibition era.

It felt like a small nod to his family, his heritage, and I was randomly touched by it., something I hadn't expected. I rationalized that speakeasies were the rage right now so he could just be using it because it was popular and for no other reason.

The rest of the restaurant had a very classy look to it with the white table cloths and round tables. The chairs looked comfortable as if he wanted people to stay, linger, and enjoy a meal for hours. As if JD wanted his guests to savor the conversation and company over a bottle or two of wine. I could feel tears forming in the back of my eyes as I looked at it. The layout reminded me of my parents' restaurant and made me nostalgic for the days when I used to run wild between the tables.

Those times were long gone and in its place was my chance to show just how out of touch a billionaire’s son was. That people like JD Bennett were taking opportunities away from hard working people who wanted to make a living. He didn’t need this restaurant. He could keep playing and sleeping with whoever he wanted to in Italy or whatever city he wanted. He didn’t have to work a day in his life. In the long run, he would only hurt the city, not help it or its citizens. Something I was sure he didn’t care about.

I couldn’t understand why he would put so much time and energy into something that had such a large chance of failure. I was curious who this man was and what drove him. Why he was doing this, what did he want to prove, and if finding out could bring him down a notch. All things that I planned on doing as soon as I talked to him.

There were a few other people sitting around the restaurant and they looked like they were waiting to be interviewed. They looked more professional in their slacks and pressed shirts, not cocktail dresses and twelve-inch heels. It helped that they weren’t snapping pictures like they were at a meet and greet with their favorite band.

I walked around the room, noticing the small touches that helped to bring out the ambiance of the restaurant. The mirrors along the walls helped to make the space look bigger than it was yet the soft light made the place feel cozy and intimate. I could see it being popular for dates and romantic dinners, assuming the menu was up to par.

There were a few pictures of what I could assume or I was supposed to assume were family members from years past. There were some with people standing in front of old cars and what looked like bottles of moonshine. Others with pictures of an old speakeasy and restaurants that were serving liquor. The last few had pictures of what looked like a beach house from years past.

“That’s my grandparents standing in front of their vacation home in Florida,” a voice said behind me.

I turned around to see the sexiest man I’d ever seen standing in front of me. I had seen pictures of JD when I was younger, my sister even had a picture of him up on her wall, but it was nothing compared to seeing the man face to face.

He was taller than I imagined and towered over my five-foot-three frame. It wasn’t just his stature that made him appear so tall but how he held himself. He exuded confidence and poise. His brown hair was a little rumpled which only added to his casual and sexy yet confident demeanor. His eyes smiled at me before looking over my shoulder at the picture. I could see him taking in the picture and remembering the people that they were.

“Family is important to you,” I stated.

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