Page 2 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

“Gracie.”

“Yeah, I’d be happy to, but first things first.” The blonde girl whipped four shot glasses out of her apron pocket before withdrawing a small bottle of green liquid.

“That looks like poison,” Damon grumbled, furrowing his brow.

“Oh, it is, big boy. It is,” she sang and poured the green liquor into the first shot glass.

By the time she’d finished filling the fourth glass, she was batting her eyelashes at Damon, who was not giving into her attempts. She handed him the final shot, obviously making an effort toleanin, making it undeniably clear she wasn’t wearing a bra—as if we all hadn’t fucking noticed.

She wiped her fingers on the small apron, which was already showing traces of the sticky lime-colored concoction. “Enjoy, boys.”

She stepped backward. It seemed like she was about to leave when she hesitated for a moment, looking back at Damon. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but could I have your number? I think I’d like to see you again. You know, hopefully somewhere more…romantic.”

“I’ve got a girl, doll,” Damon replied.

“You sure?” She looked disappointed. “I’ve heard you’re a big player in the construction business.”

“Says who?” he asked.

“One of the waitresses.”

“Babe,” Oliver jumped in, canting his head toward Damon, “if that guy was a property, he’d be a mansion made out of gold, situated on a beach made of ground-up pearls on Manalapan’s coast.”

She blinked twice. “Ehh…meaning?”

“Properties like him areneveron the market.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “Too bad.” With one final glance, she pivoted on a heel and walked to another table.

“What’s wrong with you?” Damon huffed as soon as she was out of sight. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Yeah, bro. What the corny fuck was that?” Miles stared at his brother, shaking his head. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope, I’m driving,” Oliver said with a “duh” face. “I was just trying to ease the situation. Make a joke. Make light of the awkward moment.” He turned to Damon. “Dude. Didn’t you fucking see how you crushed the girl’s confidence with your brutal rejection?I’ve got a girl,” he mocked him, imitating Damon’s signature baritone. “You know the balls it takes to walk up to four big-ass guys? And the evenbiggerballs it takes to ask one of them out?”

“And your line helped exactly, how?” Damon asked, clearly pissed.

“Yeah, man, you made it worse,” Miles said, grabbing his shot glass. “You embarrassed her even more by piling shit on top of shit.”

“I did not.”

The whole conversation had started to get on my damn nerves. “Cheers,” I announced, raising my shot.

“Cheers.” They lifted their glasses to mine. “Cheers!”

We all clinked and brought our drinks to our lips before we slammed them back down onto the wooden surface. The shot was good. Tasty.

The guys voiced their approval. Damon, Oliver, and Miles all worked in the same billion-dollar real estate company: Humphries Properties, built from the ground up by Miles and Oliver’s father, Charles Henry. Humphries Properties was on the brink of acquiring my business, Windsor Architects. The deal would turn us into the biggest and most influential construction firm in the country, and I was determined to ensure there would be no more damn roadblocks.

Damon was my contact person. He was a soon-to-be partner at Humphries Properties and a decision maker in the acquisition. Not that he made me nervous by any means. We were best buddies. I was confident that if push came to shove, he’d vote in my favor.

Well. I was almost sure.

For one, Damon had a damn good poker face. But, I’d also been away from the flock for a long period of time. San Francisco and New York weren’t exactly a stone’s throw apart. Even though we’d stayed in touch throughout, this was business. It would be a lie to say that Damon was known to let his business persona overwhelm his private real-life personality at times. In fact, sometimes it was hard to distinguish Damon “the normal guy” from Damon “the adamant businessman” (his far more serious counterpart)—as if Damon “the normal guy” wasn’t serious enough already.

“You’rethe one who needs to fucking relax,” Oliver said to Damon, still on the same topic. “You scared her off.”

“Nobody scared anybody off.” Damon swiveled his gaze between the three of us. “A girl like her appreciates directness. I can only imagine what kind of shit she hears all day.”

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