Page 65 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

“It’simpossibleto say no to you,” one of the men said.

Mr. Garfield gave a curt nod, saying, “Send over a proposal to my secretary for the kind of buy-ins you have in mind for both developments, and I’ll look it over.”

“We will send it over first thing in the morning,” Ace replied and looked at me.

I nodded in agreement and scribbled “Draw up a proposal” on my notepad. That was more for show for Mr. Garfield and his colleagues, because I certainly wouldn’t forget it.

The four businessmen started packing up their things. Ace rose from his seat and extended his arm toward each man, and I watched them enthusiastically shaking his hand. One of them grimaced at his vise grip.

“I hope I’ll see you gentlemen again soon,” Ace said as the meeting ended.

“Definitely. You will.”

One by one, the businessmen filed out of the room until only Ace and I were left. He strolled back to his chair and slumped down on it.

“That went well,” I chortled.

He ran his hand through his dark-blond hair. “It sure did.”

26

STELLA

“You did good in there,” Ace praised me.

Pride swelled my heart. I had been so nervous, but I was glad everything had gone well. “Are you ever worried that you’ll mess up one of these meetings?”

“Sure.”

“Really?” I smiled—more from my relaxing nerves than his answer—turning on my chair to look at him. “I didn’t know ‘The Great Mr. Windsor’ got nervous.”

“Ha. ‘The Great Mr. Windsor,’” he repeated. “What a title—maybe not nervous, I’ve been doing this for too long, but of course I get tense. I’m human, just like you.”

“I’m intrigued to hear more about your apparent humanity,” I said, closing my notepad in front of me. “Tell me more about the kind of things that make you nervous.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he replied. “Sharks, venomous snakes, that kind of thing.”

“No, no, no. Give me something better.”

“Hmm. There are a few other things too, I suppose…sometimes I get”—he made quote fingers—“‘nervous’ when I get a call from your brother.”

“Damon? Oh, me too! Especially lately.”

“Why? What’s been happening lately?”

Oh, darn. What do I say? What do I say?I couldn’t tell him the truth about, you know, my new side hustle as a spy—set on him, but I didn’t want to lie. “Damon’s just being Damon: overly protective, you know him,” I said, keeping things vague, hoping he wouldn’t press the subject.

“Yeah.” His lips curved upward. “Oh, you might be surprised to hear, but public speaking used to make me nervous. Any kind of public speaking, really.”

“I stutter sometimes when I’m anxious, as you might have heard. But I’ve never heardyousound nervous when you speak.”

“I guess I hide it well. Today, I’m more nervous about being late. I dislike being late. Punctuality is a form of respect. In school, I was the kid who always forgot something. The time, a book, or homework. Most of the time, though, I was late or forgot things on purpose, just being a lazy kid, you know. I preferred hanging with my friends than having my nose in a book.” He winked. “Mom and Dad knew. I can’t even count how many times I got grounded. In fact, I got my ass beat so hard I couldn’t walk the first time they caught me in a lie. My mother insisted that honesty, punctuality, and being prepared are the keys to life. So, I try to be whenever I can. I guess I should be grateful: it would be harder leading client meetings like this without certain standards. Not impossible, just harder. People have a sixth sense for BS.”

“Oh, they absolutely do,” I said, somehow taken aback by the little glimpse into his childhood. It seemed like his parents had been quite strict. “I’m sorry your parents gave you a hard time as a kid. But you’re a pretty impressive speaker. The best, really.”

“Thanks, Stella.”

“You’re very welcome, boss. Anytime.”

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