Page 5 of Stuck with My Billionaire Protector

“I know that,” I say impatiently. “But it needs to be done. I have too much on my plate to deal with incompetence.”

“Understood,” Parker replies. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find someone suitable.”

I end the call with a sigh, feeling a sense of weariness settle over me. Sometimes, it feels like everything is a struggle, every interaction a battle.

It’s hard, but I can’t let myself get bogged down with self-pity.

“So… why exactly did you fire Jessica?” Parker asks as he walks into my office later that day.

“Did you get my Ferrari fixed?” I ask, ignoring his question.

Parker raises an eyebrow at my non-answer but doesn’t press the matter. “The dealership picked up the Ferrari about an hour ago and will have it back in a day or two,” he replies. “But I’m still curious about why you fired Jessica. She seemed to be working out so well.”

“Well, not anymore. As you can see, since I no longer have a personal assistant, I have a lot of work to do.” I gesture at all the paperwork on my desk.

“The only reason you don’t have an assistant is because you fired her!” he exclaims.

“She deserved it.”

“I’ll try to fill the position as soon as possible, but it’s getting harder to find employment agencies that will send over their best people.”

“Keep looking. I need a replacement as soon as possible.” My voice brooking no argument. “There must be some competent, unemployed people in this city who would jump at this opportunity. Find me one. The pay is good, and the benefits are top-notch.”

Parker nods, his expression serious. “I understand. I’ll do my best to find someone suitable for the job. But Dylan, the problem is… you’ve got a reputation for being difficult. It’s getting harder to find recruiters who are willing to work with us, no matter how generous our compensation packages are.”

I scowl at Parker’s words, feeling a twinge of annoyance at the implication even though I know it’s true. “I know I have a reputation,” I reply brusquely. “But that shouldn’t stop us from finding the right person for the job. If we have to sweeten the deal a bit, so be it. I’m not going to settle for mediocrity just to appease some recruiters.”

Parker sighs, his expression pained. “I understand your frustration, Dylan, but we have to work with what we’ve got. We can’t expect people to just fall into our laps because we offer good pay and benefits. We have to be realistic about our expectations.”

I bristle at his words, feeling my temper start to rise. “Realistic? I am always realistic, Parker. I know exactly what I want, and I’m not going to settle for less. That’s why I’m successful.”

“I’m not disputing your success, Dylan,” Parker says patiently. “But sometimes, you have to compromise, even if it’s just a little bit. You can’t expect everyone to meet your exacting standards.”

“Just figure it out, Parker. And since you’re here—“

Parker shakes his head and starts heading for the door. He is bailing on me.

“You’re leaving me with all of this work? I need someone to take notes while I review these documents!”

“That’s what you get for letting your anger consume you. You have your phone, right? Have Siri take notes.”

“Jessica is the one who does that.”

“Well, guess what? You fired her, so now you’re on your own.” He smiles at me before walking out of my office.

Chapter 3

Jocelyn

Thechimeofmyphone interrupts my thoughts. It alerts me that my pizza delivery has arrived. I came straight home after the ordeal with that rude man outside the bar. I was craving nothing more than a glass of wine and a piping hot pizza to soothe my frayed nerves. I ordered it through the restaurant’s app on my phone, feeling grateful for the convenience of modern technology.

As I make my way to the door, I feel a sense of trepidation. I am obviously still rattled by the encounter with the man earlier. I decide to push the thought aside, focusing instead on the comfort that awaits me. With a deep breath, I open the door and complete the payment on my phone, eagerly anticipating the delicious meal that awaits me.

The delivery boy, who looks to be in his late teens, smiles at me as he holds out the pizza box.

“Here you are, miss.” His bright yellow shirt branded with the pizza company’s logo matches the cap on his head.

“Thank you.” I smile and take the box from him. Despite my unease, I feel a sense of gratitude toward the boy who had brought me this small comfort on an otherwise difficult night.

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