Page 18 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

I held the phone up to my ear, ready to speak.

“Have you heard anything from Ace yet?” he asked without waiting for my greeting.

“Well, hello to you, too,” I said. “Actually, I was just about to call you. I just heard back from Windsor Architects.”

“You’re not crying. I assume it’s good news?”

“Like I would be crying,” I said. (I totally would be.) “They invited me to an interview the day after tomorrow at eleven. The woman I spoke to said that Ace probably wouldn’t be interviewing me personally though.”

“CEOs don’t typically conduct interviews. He has an empire to run. And in this case, why would he? He knows you. Don’t take it personally.”

“I won’t,” I assured him. “I’m sure I’ll get more than enough opportunities to talk to him once they’ve hired me.”

“I’m sure you will,” Damon said. “Keep me updated on how it goes…and good luck.” With that, he ended the call, leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

I have the best brother ever.He wassoinvested. I loved him. Who else could say that their big brother had gone out of his way to find them their dream job?

7

STELLA

Two days later, 9:35 a.m.

My lucky day.

My life flashed before my eyes as I heard a loudsnap.Shit. In my reflection, I saw myself standing in front of the full-length mirror in my room with one half of my beige dress’s zipper in my hand. The other half was still attached.

Shit, shit, shit.

The zipper was only halfway up, and now I had no way to pull it up any further. It was now 9:38 a.m., and I had less than one and a half hours until my interview at Windsor Architects, an event I’d already decided would be Act One of my dream life. That seemed less likely to be the case as I stood staring at my own shocked reflection, sweating bullets.

Shaking my head, I picked up my cell from the bedside table. Bonnie’s number was saved as my emergency contact.

The ringtone hit my ear as I waited for her to answer.

“Stella! Girl!” Bonnie’s sugary voice came flooding through my phone’s speaker. It had a melodious quality that reminded me of the Disney princesses I’d admired in my youth.

“Bonnie. I’m having a crisis. Something terrible has happened.”

“Oh, no,” she gasped. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“No. I’m dying…dying of frustration! I’m getting dressed for my interview, and the slider to my dress’s zipper broke off. Do you think that’s a bad omen?”

“No, just a bad slider or pull tab,” she said, releasing a laugh.

“Well, I can’t pull it up. I’m going to have to go half-dressed, because I can’t pull it down either.”

“I’m sure the person interviewing you would think it was hilarious,” she replied. “Have you tried using a wire coat hanger to pull it up? If you can hook it through what’s left of the zipper tab, you should be able to get the job done. It worked for me last time.”

“I love you,” I said more sincerely than I meant to. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker phone so both my hands are free.”

“Okay. It’s a bit tricky. You have to wiggle it into the sliding thingy.”

I put my phone down on my bed and retrieved a wire coat hanger from the wardrobe. It took a good dose of athleticism (and gymnastic prowess) to hook it into the zipper’s remains, but I managed to do it without pulling a muscle. One proper upward jerk (and more sweaty armpits) was all it took to pull the zipper up all the way.

“It worked!” I did a little happy dance around the room.

“Yay! I told you it would,” Bonnie cheered. “Are you nervous about your interview?”

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