Page 120 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

“If I wasn’t seeing someone, I would totally grab his number. He’s not the typical douchey, grumpy billionaire though. Down-to-earth. Respected, confident, and real. Rides a motorcycle—I mean, that says it all, doesn’t it, Ace?”

“How do you know he rides a motorcycle?” I grumbled while working around the bar.

“I saw his helmet. Duh. By accident, not because I was stalking him. Also, because he has a smattering of tattoos. He keeps them well-hidden due to his work, but I saw hissleeveby accident when he rolled up his shirt sleeve a bit to look at his watch. Hot. He probably has tattooseverywhere. If you know what I mean.” She closed her eye into an exaggerated wink, shaping her lips into a hilarious grin.

“For fuck’s sake, Tilly, can you stop?” I said, preparing our milkshakes. “I’m right here.”

“No, I mean, I’m just saying, he’s something for the eye, ya know, eye-candy,besidesbeing highly professional and the best in his field. They say he’s got a great…tool. I mean, an arsenal ofmesmerizing, breathtaking, incredibletools.”

“Tilly, I’m not going to repeat myself,” I growled.

“What? You do want the very best for your girlfriend, medically,don’t you?”

“Of course I do. But keep the dick talk down, will you?”

“Who was talking about dicks?”

“Okay. That’s it.”

“Relax, Tiger.” Tilly laughed, looking at me. “I bet he’s taken. Men like him are never single. Besides, your girl only has eyes for you. Right, Stella?”

“Of course,” Stella said. “Idoneed a good doctor. But I’m not sure if I want a good-looking one.”

“Exactly. You don’t,” I agreed.

“Wait, where did I put his number?” Tilly went to grab her huge bag, and after half an eternity of shuffling inside of it, she retrieved a business card. It was slightly crumpled. “Here you go. You can keep it. Or would you like me to make the appointment?”

She placed the card on the marble countertop, close enough for me to see. A neat black font on a bright thick paper read, “Dr. Dillan Maxwell.” It was followed by his phone number, email address, and clinic’s location.

Tilly gave Stella an encouraging nod and glanced at me.

I grumbled something like “Women,” and Tilly and Stella looked at each other. Stella took the card and put it in her pocket.

They would be best friends, no doubt.

* * *

Three weeks later

In the late afternoon, we had one of our last meetings with Humphries Properties’ lawyers before the merger. The agenda was to discuss the purchase agreement so we could close the deal and begin integration. It went well, just like the meetings leading up to it had. Now, it was only a matter of time before an eight-figure amount rolled into my bank account.

The day we signed the papers, all calls from Ecclestone stopped.

To me, it proved my little theory had been right—but ultimately, I would never know. The “construction shark” never had a chance to begin with. Just as I would never be able to prove he’d had his fingers in my previous assistant’s spying. Unless Harris found hard evidence, I had better shit to do than waste time fighting a shady war. If someone was throwing shit, you didn’t waltz into their line of fire.

It didn’t mean we wouldn’t be vigilant and ready to kick ass if needed. Because kick ass, we would. In future price battles, due to our size, we’d win against him or any other competitor, fair and square.

To me, there couldn’t be a bigger win.

I told Mrs. Mills she could go home directly after the lawyers left—she deserved a day off, and I would surprise her with a raise in the next payroll. Stella, though back as my assistant, I had other plans for. I asked her to meet me in my office for dinner.

She knocked on my office door in a confident way and opened it.

“I’m here,” she declared.

Stella emerged from the doorway like a vision. She was sporting a dazzling smile, strawberry-red lipstick, and a formal form-fitting beige dress. Those weren’t her most impressive features though. That honor went to the tiny bump that was forming just under her navel. If you didn’t know it was there, it would be hard to notice, but I’d spent enough time staring at it to notice it every time she walked into the room. Seeing it filled me with an odd sense of pride I couldn’t eloquently explain even if I tried.

“What are we eating today?” she asked. “Are you in the mood for Italian? Bonnie and I love this quaint little pasta place just a few blocks from here. We could walk, it’s beautiful outside.”

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