Page 25 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

“Wasn’t it at a pool party?”

“Ehh…sort of,” she said, stiffening.

“Your brother had invited Miles, Oliver, and me over for a few beers. We were hanging out around the pool. Do you remember?”

“I…remember…” Her eyes widened and fixed on mine. Did she stop breathing?

“Yeah? And you wore a white bikini?” I pushed, arching an eyebrow. Maybe I was an asshole, but I was curious how she’d react to the memory. “Do you remember that?”

The way she looked at me reminded me of a deer caught in the headlights, and for a second, I regretted wasting more time by digging up the past. But again, it was a perfect out for her. She’d better take it. Stella turned a shade of bright red one rarely saw, and I was sure she’d storm out at any moment. Just like she had done that summer.

She caught her breath, saying, “Ididwear a white bikini, and I was hopingyouwouldn’t remember it.”

“Oh, I remember it,” I said. “Someone splashed you with water just as you came out of the house.”

She shook her head and breathed out. “My brother Damon did, yes. And my bikini turned see-through.” I perked up. She was upfront, not trying to hide what had happened or brush over it. I appreciated truthfulness in people. In my line of work, it was hard to find. I listened intently to her, watching her shake her head, as if she were reliving the moment. “I grabbed a towel before anyone could see…and luckily, nobody did,” she continued, “but still, it was the most embarrassing moment of my life. And then you laughed at me as I fled the scene.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“Yes, youwere,” she insisted. “You don’t have to deny it. It was ages ago.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” I repeated calmly.

“Oh, really?” Stella sat across from me and frowned, clearly not believing a word I’d said.

For some reason, something inside of me was enjoying her reaction. I’d always despised ass-kissers or sheepish people, but the young woman in front of me clearly had a mind of her own, and she had no problem voicing it.

“It was ages ago, anyway,” she said as she tried to compose herself, taking another drink of water. “Consider it ancient history. Let’s just forget about it.”

A breeze glided through the air, making its way into the room from an open window behind her. Her loose mahogany curls danced around her round face like they had a life of their own as a sweet mandarin orange smell enveloped me.

“Take a walk with me,” I said on a spur-of-the-moment decision, and got to my feet. “I want to show you something.”

“O-of course,” she stuttered, pushing up from her seat. “Where are we going?”

“Follow me.”

Once we were out in the hallway, I led her toward the conference room at the end. “We were supposed to meet in here, but after you nearly knocked yourself out, my office felt more personable,” I said as we stepped into the room.

“I didn’t nearly knock myself out,” she corrected. “The floor nearly did.”

Huh. Inside, I couldn’t help but chuckle. All things aside, she was keen—bright even, with a ready tongue. She had proven that on numerous occasions today.

“This is what I brought you here to see.” I led her to a large table in the conference room’s farthest corner, with a model apartment building resting in its center. “This is Sky Gold Tower, one of our developments in Los Angeles. When it’s done, it’ll be the world’s most expensive apartment building complex. It has a restaurant on the ground floor.” I watched her approach and examine the model. “Naturally, it will have a bar stocked with the world’s rarest liquors: several bottles of 1796 Lenox Madeira vodka that has been purified by filtering it through diamond shards, and crates full of whiskey bottles made from white gold and rubies. The top floor is dedicated to a penthouse with an indoor pool that stretches out onto a large balcony, becoming an infinity pool with the most spectacular view of Hollywood. Each apartment will be luxurious, with five or six bedrooms. Each bedroom will boast a large en suite, of course. What do you think?”

“I like it,” Stella said and broke away from the model for a moment to look me straight in the eyes. I could tell she was still anxious, but now she held a confident smile. She knew I hadn’t made up my mind whether or not to hire her. She was compulsively fidgeting with one of her curls, twisting it around her finger and tugging at it. “I mean, I’d prefer something a bit more…quaint, but that’s just me,” she added.

“My clientele doesn’t do ‘quaint.’ Do you know why I’m showing this to you?”

“Well, of course. So I’d know what I’d be working on?” She poked the tip of the model building’s roof. There was something fresh about the energy that radiated from her. Its intensity was tangible, almost like the kind you’d expect from the late afternoon sun during summer. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and that irritated me.

“No. To show you the kind of company that Windsor Architects is. We are one of the top-five largest firms in the state. That means I can’t afford to hire anyone who isn’t up to our standards. Do you know how many projects we’re working on, daughter firm in San Francisco included?”

“I don’t know…let me guess. Fifteen, big ones. Twenty?” She paused and appeared to be thinking. The sunlight highlighted her frame as its rays cascaded through the building’s windows. She wrinkled her forehead like she was busy doing some kind of complicated calculation. “Ooh! I’m guessing forty,” she finally exclaimed.

After I told her the number that was much higher than the one she had suggested, I watched her eyes grow large. Turning, I glanced out of one of the conference room’s windows where the traffic below was rushing by. “We’re busy.” I looked her in the eye to make sure she knew what “busy” meant—never-ending focus, working overtime, vigilance, and above all, going above and beyond the ordinary. “Plus, as I’m sure you’re aware, we’re in the process of merging with Humphries Properties. I need someone who’s able to withstand stress, who’s reliable, honest,punctualand mostly, trustworthy.”

“That’sme. I’m sure I’m the best candidate,” she said, still feigning confidence, but I realized it had more to do with uncertainty about what my answer would be than with her self-assessment. It wasn’t the typical boasting and bragging, and although she overestimated herself, I liked her confidence. It was promising.

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