Page 7 of Bad Mood Billionaire
With all the fake confidence I could muster, I lifted my chin, fixed my stare on him, and spoke clearly. “If you’d like me to come back later, I can. I have a lot to get done down on the deck.”
He blinked and looked up at me. “Stay. Here, sit.” He gestured to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
In all my time working here, he’d never invited me to take a seat in his office before. As I pulled out the chair and lowered myself into it, I became even more certain that he was going to let me go. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe this was the only way I could return to doing the things I loved. I could take the money from my parents and start flipping furniture again, even if just for a little while until I felt like myself again.
“Very well. We’ll speak again soon. Good luck.” Jake ended his call and placed his phone face down on his desk. His eyes were such a dark shade of brown that they looked almost black—the same shade as every piece of décor and furniture in his office. He studied me calmly. “You’ve been managing your receptionist responsibilities well, Gabriella.”
Was that a compliment? My brain scrambled. It sure sounded like one, but the Jake Cassidy I knew never dished out compliments. Up until this moment, I didn’t even know he was capable of giving them.
I licked my lips. “Thank you. But please, call me Gabi.”
“I’d like to promote you.” He opened the top drawer of his desk, withdrew a folder, and slid it toward me. Scrawled in neat capital letters were the words “Gabriella St. Clair’s promotion offer.”
I almost laughed. “A promotion?”
He pressed his fingertips together and watched me over them, expressionless. “Yes, to be my personal assistant. Please, have a look. I think you’ll find the offer quite competitive.”
I didn’t have to look to know my answer. I slid the file back to him. “No thank you.”
Jake didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Why not?”
“Because…” I searched my mind for a logical, practical, justifiable reason to give him that he wouldn’t try to poke holes in. I’d seen him in pursuit of something he wanted, and he could be a total bulldozer. “Because I already find this job stressful enough, and if I’m being honest with you, it’s hard for me to wake up every morning to come to this office. I don’t want to make that even harder.”
Jake chuckled. It was the closest thing to a laugh I’d ever heard from him. “Work isn’t supposed to be pleasant and relaxing, Gabriella.”
“Gabi,” I corrected.
“It’s not supposed to be fun, either. If you want to succeed in this world, you have to work hard. And most of the time it’s not going to be comfortable. But I assure you, once you begin to taste the fruits of your labor, it will all be worth it.”
Easy for a billionaire to say.
“I think we have different checklists when it comes to job satisfaction.”
Jake opened the folder in front of him, flipped to the fourth page, spun it around to face me, and pointed at a large number underlined in red. “Does this salary outweigh the dread you feel in the morning to come into the office?”
I blinked at the paper, looked up at him, back down at the paper, and back up at him. “Are you pulling my leg?”
“No.”
Jake Cassidy was willing to pay me a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year to be his assistant. That was better money than I’d ever made in my life. It might not come close to the wages my brother earned, or the number of zeros in my parents’ bank account, but it was the sort of money that would make my life much more comfortable.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be worth it.
The best part about my reception job was that my desk sat the farthest away from Jake’s office. Most of our communications were done via email or in the comment sidebar of his schedule. If I took this offer, I’d have to sit down face to face with him much more often, potentially on a daily basis.
I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“What do you say?” Jake pressed.
I’d be a fool to turn this down. And if I hated it? So what? I could quit. It wasn’t like I owed him any sort of loyalty. I’d give it my best shot, and if things went sour as I expected they would, I could line up another job with a great salary and work experience now on my resume, and abandon ship.
I gave him the most confident smile I could muster in the moment. “I accept.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been his best version of a smile. “Glad to hear it. Keep an eye on your emails. I’ll be sending over a list of things I need you to bring into the office with you tomorrow morning. I expect you here two hours earlier than normal and to bring the following with you: my dry-cleaned laundry, my coffee order, documents from the Hansel and Gretel Bakery start-up we’re working with, and an order of women’s clothes from a nearby boutique. I’ll make sure they’re all expecting you and prepared to give you what you need.”
“What time do these places open? If I have to be here by seven in the morning, I’m not going to be able to pick up some of those items.”
“Then I suggest you pick them up on your way home this evening. Sign here.” He flipped to the back page of the documents in the file.
I signed.
He flipped everything closed. “You can go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Gabriella. I look forward to seeing you live up to your potential.”
Dismissed, I stood and moved to his door, muttering under my breath. “It’s Gabi.”
