Resisting the Billionaire
By C.C. Snow
Copyright
Resisting the Billionaire
Copyright © 2016 by C.C. Snow
All Rights Reserved
Kindle Edition
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13: Jake
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16: Jake
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue: Jake
Note from Author
Chapter 1
“Cora, have you heard?” Jamie Parker whispered to me as she popped her head over the cubicle and folded her arms over the dividing wall. Her light blue eyes were gleaming with excitement, a clear sign she had a juicy rumor to share.
“No, what?” I asked, trying to sound curious, but I had little interest in office gossip. Jamie, on the other hand, loved sharing every piece of dirt and I had long realized she would tell me regardless of whether I wanted to hear it or not.
We both worked as low-level administrative assistants– essentially secretaries– at Weston Enterprises, a huge conglomerate in downtown Chicago. It wasn’t what I had imagined doing at this point in my life, but when my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer, I had to drop out of my sophomore year in college and take care of her. And when she died last year, I became the sole guardian of my eleven-year-old brother, Marcus, at the ripe old age of twenty-one.
So I pulled on my big girl pants and looked for a job. Not surprisingly, there weren’t a lot of options for a young woman with no college degree and no work experience to speak of. It turned out my gig as a summer camp counselor at age fifteen did not impress recruiters.
But I wasn’t the type to cry over the shitty cards life dealt me. I made enough money to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. Granted it was a shabby roof, but we could muddle along on my meager salary. When Marcus was older, I wanted to go back to college to finish my math degree. One day, I promised myself.
“Mr. Weston fired his executive assistant,” Jamie said.
“So, what’s the big deal? He goes through them like tissue paper,” I pointed out. Jake Weston was the billionaire CEO of Weston Enterprises, but the junior staff never saw him in person. He had reached an almost mythical status on our floor.
I thought I saw him once when I walked out of work late one night, but I only got the general impression of a tall man with dark hair. His face was in shadow so I had no idea if it was the big boss. Not that I would recognize him if he stood on stage under Klieg lights. I wasn’t curious enough about him to look him up, even though I’d heard plenty of salacious gossip.
The rumors about him had been circulating furiously since my first day. Apparently, he was impossible to please. Within four measly weeks, every one of his assistants somehow managed to do something to warrant the termination of their employment. Nobody was ever able to confirm what the reasons were, but countless theories abounded among the staff.
Personally, I thought he must be a despot. But I supposed you could afford to be capricious if you were a billionaire.
There was always someone young and eager to step into the vacancy though.
“Thank goodness I’d never have to,” I muttered under my breath. Not only did I not have the temperament to work for someone like him, I needed stability in my job.
Jamie’s slender arm flapped, drawing my attention. Her button nose crinkled. “No, you don’t understand! I heard Mr. Weston asked Stewart for a replacement from our floor!”
Horror crossed my face at the thought of being picked, but logic came to my rescue. It was beyond unlikely that I would be chosen since I was one of the newer secretaries. I’d only been with the company for six months. Most likely, Stewart, our supervisor, would recommend one of the more experienced staff.
Besides, I had seen a couple of Mr. Weston’s previous assistants and both were tall, beautiful women who wouldn’t look out of place on a Paris runway. At the time, I had been disdainful of his shallowness, but now it worked to my advantage. He’d want to pick someone who had striking looks, like Samantha, a redhead bombshell or Jamie, who was a leggy blonde with a cute face.
I was under no illusions about my looks. I had been called pretty by some, but I thought I looked rather ordinary, with straight dark brown hair that reached past my shoulder blades and light brown eyes. Even my height was average at five feet six. I liked my straight nose, but I always felt that my lips were disproportionately full. For some reason, men assumed women with naturally pouty lips were sluts.
Boy, were they in for a rude awakening when they dated me!
Plus, I really didn’t have the body type he seemed to favor. I would never be considered svelte; I was blessed with plenty of curves. My dad said I inherited my body from my grandmother, who was Portuguese. I wish I had also gotten her bronze complexion, but alas I took after my mom’s Welsh side and was pasty white.
Reassured that I wouldn’t win the assistant lottery, I relaxed. “Well, maybe Stewart will recommend you for the position,” I said.
Jamie’s smile stretched her cheeks. “Really, you think so?”
I mentally shook my head, wondering why she would want to work for a guy who’d most likely fire her within the month. “Would you want to work as his assistant?”
“Sure, why not? It’s bound to be a lot more exciting then being here.”
We both looked at the sea of cubicles. Young men and women sat quietly with their heads bent over their work. The carpet was a drab gray and the walls were painted an institutional white. It looked depressing.
“Yes, but the job doesn’t seem to be…” I grappled for the right words. “Very secure.”