Page 13 of Her Big Fat Hunky Billionaire Boss

Let me know if you find anything. I feel bad you’re stuck at a hotel with no food.

Damian glanced at the empty chip bag. He wasn’t too happy about it either.

I ate some Doritos from a vending machine. I usually hate hotel breakfasts, but I admit I’m looking forward to it.

Hopefully, they have something good.

His cell phone vibrated and he checked the screen. His mother. He didn’t want to talk to her right now about Priscilla. Or any of her other friends’ daughters. He tossed the phone on his desk. He’d call her tomorrow. Right now he wanted to know more about Amelia.

How long have you lived in Manhattan?

Only a few months. What about you?

All my life. Where did you live before you moved to New York?

The cursor blinked for a long time. Damian took another drink of the coffee. At least it was hot. And it didn’t have ice floating in it.

I’m from a small town you’ve probably never heard of. I actually like small-town life, if you can believe it.

Really? He couldn’t.

What’s so great about a small town?

It took another long pause before she answered.

Everyone knows everyone. You get smiles everywhere you go. This time of year is magical because the town comes together to celebrate the holidays. Neighbors help each other. People go out of their way to be nice.

Surprisingly, she did make small town life sound pretty good.

But what is there to do?

There’s a lot to do in a small town. Give it a chance. Maybe you’ll like it.

Right. If he ever got his car unburied.

Okay, I will. Now I’m curious about something. Where did you go to school to learn so much about finance?

I went to a small state college. But enough about me. I want to know more about you. What kind of goals do you have in life?

Wow, he hadn’t expected the conversation to get deep. He had to think about that one.

I guess my goal has always been to show my father I was capable of running his business. Now that he’s gone, I’m not sure what my goal is.

I’m sorry. Was his passing recent?

Damian’s throat grew tight, and he stood from the chair. It was still hard for him to talk about. Why had he brought it up? He walked over to the window and put his hand on the cool glass. Feelings of anger and abandonment coursed through him. He stuffed them down so he could answer her.

A year ago. It’s still hard.

I understand. My father passed away when I was twelve.

Such a young age to lose a parent. He felt bad for her.

That must have been hard for you.

Yes, it was. Wow, that was a downer, right? Wanna talk about war and starving children in Africa now?

He smiled at the computer screen. He liked this woman.

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