Page 10 of The Billionaire and I

“Yes, Elena.” I nodded vigorously, even though she couldn’t see me. I had no idea what she meant by “exclusive,” but I was going to figure it out and quick.

A billionaire of my own.I could figure out how to walk on my hands and speak French for a billionaire of my own! Well, maybe I could figure out how to walk on my hands. French seemed kind of tough.

“Jenny!” Elena sounded exasperated. “Isaid, can you come in straight away? Don’t even go home. He wants you for an event tonight. We need to get you fitted and packed.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m coming in now.” I grabbed my iced coffee and hustled down the street, my boobs jiggling in my tube top, zero fucks to give about all the stares I was getting.A billionaire all my own.Life-changing money.

Maybe God really was listening.

If there wasone thing I loved about my job, it was the back office. There were racks and racks of designer clothes, shoes, high-end bags, and other accessories. We all picked clothes for our assignments from there. Elena kept everything we needed—whether the John liked his escort to look like a flight attendant, a Playboy bunny, or a dominatrix, we had it all.

Expensive clothes from stores I would never dare to enter in real life lined the racks. I didn’t care about labels—high fashion was a luxury I couldn’t even afford to think about. But I loved playing dress-up. A fancy outfit and a pair of heels made me feel like a new woman, someone with a closet filled with such things and plenty of places to wear them.

Elena had already started pulling “looks,” as she called them. Dress after dress in soft pastel colors with high necklines. Iscowled at the gowns. “Elena…ew! Who are these looks for? The billionaire’s grandmother?”

Elena straightened herself and stared at me. Her hair was spiky with mousse, and her maroon lipstick was applied flawlessly, as usual. She was six feet tall but always wore heels, which made her even more imposing. Elena was attractive but not pretty if that made sense. As for what had gotten her into the escort business in the first place, no one knew.

“First of all, hi Jenny. Second of all, no, these looks are not for Mr. Bryson’s grandmother. They’re for you.”

I pointed at the offensive pastel dresses. “I am not wearing that crap. He wants an escort, not a Sunday school teacher!”

“Jenny…” She put her hand on her hip, gearing up for a fight.

I whipped out my phone. “What’s his name?”

“Cole Bryson. What’re you doing?”

“Seeing what he likes. Ah, here we go.” You had to love the internet. All I did was google “Cole Bryson” and “Boston,” and a dozen images popped up. Cole was tall, dark, and exceedingly handsome. Every picture showed the billionaire at events with various beautiful women on his arm.

“Ho my frickin’ God, he’sgorgeous! And he doesn’t like librarians. He likes hot chicks!” I shoved the phone at Elena and charged toward the racks.

“Hmm.” Elena scrolled through the pictures as I tore through the dresses. “I see what you mean. Isn’t that one of the Victoria’s Secret models?”

“Probably!” My nerves were flaring. Cole Bryson washot. As in smoking, panty-liquifying hot. As in, touch him, and you burst into flames hot. He was tall and muscular, his big shoulders straining beneath his suit coats, with an actor’s chiseled features and a shock of dark hair hanging over his brow.

And he was a billionaire.

Ho my frickin’ God, indeed.

I pulled out a black dress with a lower neckline. It was pretty but not perfect. “How much am I getting paid?”

“Same as Audrey. Once he told me that James Preston had referred him, I knew we’d get top dollar.” Elena cleared her throat. “If you complete the two-week assignment, your cut is sixty-five thousand dollars.”

“What?”

“Sixty-five thousand.” Elena sounded dead-serious. “Not including tip.”

I clapped a hand over my heart. “Are you fucking with me, Elena?”

“No, Jenny, I am not. And can you please stop using the ‘f’ word so much? The Prestons are a very proper family?—”

“Do you actually mean it?” I burst into tears. “Sixty-fivethousand?”

“Of course I mean it.” Elena clicked over to a side table and grabbed some tissues. “Here, dry your eyes. You don’t want to be blotchy for the client.”

“I k-know, I j-just can’t believe it.” I obediently wiped away my tears, careful not to get mascara all over my face. “I never thought I’d earn that much money in my life!”

After paying bills, the most leftover cash I’d ever had in my checking account was two hundred and nineteen dollars. Sixty-five thousand might as well have been ten million—it was an impossible sum of money, something I would never even dare to dream about.

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