Read Online The Billionaire's Assistant (Contemporary BWWM Interracial Romance) (The Billionaire's Proposition Book 1) by Rose Francis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rose Francis
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wouldn’t be able to hear the thumping organ in her chest.
He didn’t say anything until the first course was brought to them, but his eyes never left her, even as he took a sip of his drink, and she wriggled under it, averting her eyes and thankful for the distraction of the food before them.
Had she not worked with the chef today, she would have had no idea what she was about to eat, but she looked forward to trying the seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings.
As he picked up his fork, Kevin opened his mouth to speak, and her heart picked up rhythm.
Luckily, he kept the conversation neutral and let her do most of the talking.
She found herself telling him a little more about her life growing up, sharing a few stories from her time with foster parents.
He seemed to listen intently to everything she had to say, and his follow-up questions almost always guaranteed that she ended up telling him a little more than she had intended.
She was relieved to see that he never looked disgusted by what she was—a balled up piece of paper left behind in an old, abandoned warehouse.
He never seemed uneasy with someone so far beneath his class at all, and for that, she didn’t mind when she told him a little too much; he didn’t make her feel exposed.
----
“ S o what do you like to do? When you’re not working?” he asked, his face neutral as their dessert arrived, this time a chocolate soufflé.
She shrugged and gave the only answer she could give.
“Read,” she said.
He nodded in understanding, his face relaxing into a hint of a smile.
“I figured,” he said.
She paused her next scoop. “What do you mean?”
“The way you speak—it’s not usual for your generation.”
Her generation? Sheesh, it’s not like he was decades older than her—he was in his early thirties at most.
“My usual personal assistant—she’s about your age, and as competent and delightful as she is at her job, she doesn’t speak like you. Then again, I suppose she hasn’t had much opportunity to show me her conversational skills as it is strictly business,” he said, almost as if to himself as he looked away, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “We have curt, to-the-point interactions.” Then he brought his eyes back up to her. “Anyway, I’ve heard other eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds—they don’t tend to use words like ‘gumption,’ and phrases like ‘it’s not all that taxing.’ The way you speak is sort of formal, which caught me off guard, as I’m aware of your background, and I know your schooling stopped after twelfth grade, yet your analytic skills and vocabulary, and even the way you phrase things is not usual.”
“Well, I may not have grown up with much, but libraries are always free.”
“Did you want to go to college?”
“Yes, and I have tried to go and applied for scholarships and even won a few before, but the funds were never enough. My plan was to work for a while and squirrel away funds while I applied to as many as I could, in hopes of enrolling as soon as possible. Well, when I first ‘graduated’ from the group home, I didn’t know what I didn’t know and didn’t have much guidance. I did check out some reference books in the library, but soon, other needs became far more pressing, and I found myself in a demanding routine of working to pay the basics. I kept trying to save, but things always came up, and time flew by.”
She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter, going back to her food.
“So how close are you? Do you think you’ll be ready to attend this fall or next?”
She noticed his face had sort of flattened into something she couldn’t read.
She knew it was too late for the upcoming fall, but it was certainly her goal to try to get in by the next. It was over a year away—surely she could get everything together by then.
“Well, it’s June now, and enrollment periods have long closed. I suppose I could still try to slip in and hope the waiting list
He didn’t say anything until the first course was brought to them, but his eyes never left her, even as he took a sip of his drink, and she wriggled under it, averting her eyes and thankful for the distraction of the food before them.
Had she not worked with the chef today, she would have had no idea what she was about to eat, but she looked forward to trying the seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings.
As he picked up his fork, Kevin opened his mouth to speak, and her heart picked up rhythm.
Luckily, he kept the conversation neutral and let her do most of the talking.
She found herself telling him a little more about her life growing up, sharing a few stories from her time with foster parents.
He seemed to listen intently to everything she had to say, and his follow-up questions almost always guaranteed that she ended up telling him a little more than she had intended.
She was relieved to see that he never looked disgusted by what she was—a balled up piece of paper left behind in an old, abandoned warehouse.
He never seemed uneasy with someone so far beneath his class at all, and for that, she didn’t mind when she told him a little too much; he didn’t make her feel exposed.
----
“ S o what do you like to do? When you’re not working?” he asked, his face neutral as their dessert arrived, this time a chocolate soufflé.
She shrugged and gave the only answer she could give.
“Read,” she said.
He nodded in understanding, his face relaxing into a hint of a smile.
“I figured,” he said.
She paused her next scoop. “What do you mean?”
“The way you speak—it’s not usual for your generation.”
Her generation? Sheesh, it’s not like he was decades older than her—he was in his early thirties at most.
“My usual personal assistant—she’s about your age, and as competent and delightful as she is at her job, she doesn’t speak like you. Then again, I suppose she hasn’t had much opportunity to show me her conversational skills as it is strictly business,” he said, almost as if to himself as he looked away, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “We have curt, to-the-point interactions.” Then he brought his eyes back up to her. “Anyway, I’ve heard other eighteen to twenty-four-year-olds—they don’t tend to use words like ‘gumption,’ and phrases like ‘it’s not all that taxing.’ The way you speak is sort of formal, which caught me off guard, as I’m aware of your background, and I know your schooling stopped after twelfth grade, yet your analytic skills and vocabulary, and even the way you phrase things is not usual.”
“Well, I may not have grown up with much, but libraries are always free.”
“Did you want to go to college?”
“Yes, and I have tried to go and applied for scholarships and even won a few before, but the funds were never enough. My plan was to work for a while and squirrel away funds while I applied to as many as I could, in hopes of enrolling as soon as possible. Well, when I first ‘graduated’ from the group home, I didn’t know what I didn’t know and didn’t have much guidance. I did check out some reference books in the library, but soon, other needs became far more pressing, and I found myself in a demanding routine of working to pay the basics. I kept trying to save, but things always came up, and time flew by.”
She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter, going back to her food.
“So how close are you? Do you think you’ll be ready to attend this fall or next?”
She noticed his face had sort of flattened into something she couldn’t read.
She knew it was too late for the upcoming fall, but it was certainly her goal to try to get in by the next. It was over a year away—surely she could get everything together by then.
“Well, it’s June now, and enrollment periods have long closed. I suppose I could still try to slip in and hope the waiting list
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