Page 8 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

Instead of her nerdy thick-rimmed black glasses, she wore fashionable white ones. It was a record-breaking summer filled with nothing but abnormally high temperatures and whining, so I wasn’t too surprised to see Stella dressed in a bikini that was far skimpier than the baggy black swimwear she usually wore. No, this time, it was a tiny white number that contrasted well against her slightly sun-kissed skin.

Of course, I attempted to avert my gaze.

I lived by the “bro code,” a silent set of rules that were all centered around one golden rule: Bros didn’t kiss, date, or dip their dicks into other bros’ sisters.

In fact, they didn’t even look at them.

Trying to clear my mind, I tried to think of something else: a white motorcycle I’d set my eyes on—I mean…a black motorcycle I’d set my eyes on, when I heard a loud splash. I lifted my head just in time to notice one of the guys throwing a handful of frigid ice water at Stella. Her bikini turned see-through the second the water made contact with her skin. She shrieked and whipped a pool towel off a nearby chair, tightly wrapping it around her curvy body, and dropping her white sunglasses in the process.

Everyone laughed. Sure, it’d been funny. That shriek! I bet the whole neighborhood had heard it.

I, for my part, wished I could say that she’d wrapped the damn towel around herself fast enough.

She hadn’t.

In the split second between someone throwing water and Stella reaching for the towel, I’d seen more than I was supposed to. Gorgeous, gloriously shaped tits. Her fully erect pink nipples practically blushed at me through her translucent bikini top, ready to be sucked. Of course, I looked downward to stop myself from making eye contact with them—only to be met with the alluringly clear outline of the “womanly charms” nestled between her thighs. She was fully waxed.

“I think I’m going to sunbathe for a while,” was the first—and only—thing I said, before awkwardly teetering over to the closest lounger and slamming myself down onto it—stomach-first. The guys, mostly Miles, protested and teased me for leaving our beer circle to “toast myself,” but I hadn’t slipped away to catch a fucking tan. I’d made myself scarce to hide the one thing that eventually betrayed all young men: their own body’s damn response to fucking physical perfection.

After all, the bro code prohibited me from even looking in Stella’s direction.

Let alone at her wet tits and wet pussy lips.

I’d tried to justify the whole incident by telling myself that my stressed-out, caffeine-fueled mind was longing to give into my most basic urges because I’d denied them for a bit too long.

I had seen (and felt) plenty of other women naked. But this here,she—the curvy Stella in her transparent white bikini—had awakened something in me that had not stirred until then.

It was the first time the beast in me had opened its eyes, ready to hunt.

“Dude.”

“Ace?” I heard someone call my name.

“Earth to Ace! Bro, hello?” Miles jeered loudly, slamming his palm against my back.

And with that, I found myself back in Talia’s and yanked from my recollection of that hot afternoon in July.

Blinking to clear my thoughts, I took a swig of my beer, sweeping the rest of the cobweb-like memories of Stella in her bikini from my mind. “Hmm,” I replied, nodding, unsure of what to say. I’d lost track of the conversation.

“So, are you going to hire Damon’s sister or not?” Miles stared at me, eyebrows raised. “Man. What’s there to think about? Didn’t you hear? She did admin for Princeton’s dean. Now she’s assistant to the assistant, it means she gets shit done. Sounds like prime assistant material to me.”

“There’s no harm in giving her a shot.” Oliver smiled sympathetically in Damon’s direction as if to tell him, “I’m on your side, bro.”

“You really don’t have to offer Stella a job.” Damon shook his head at us. “Might not be the best idea.”

“Youwere the one who brought up that she was looking for a job,” Miles said, his tone clearly teasing. “Sounded to me like you were covertly trying to line up a position for her at Windsor Architects. Am I right?”

“No, I wasn’t, and stop pissing me off,” Damon grumbled. “You guys asked how she was, and I answered.”

I looked at my beer glass and wondered where the hell Gracie was with our next drinks. “Oliver and Miles are right. She sounds like the ideal candidate,” I said. “Tell her to send over her résumé.”

4

DAMON

Once I stepped over the door’s threshold and into the chilly night spring air, my glasses fogged up.

“See you, bro,” Ace said as we exchanged quick bro-hugs.

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