The Billionaire's Bitch

Nine

Couldn't leave y'all hangin'! Also, I work all day tomorrow so I figured I'd post another chapter tonight, to make up for it!

Cheers! Party on for me, my Minions!

HRH

*~*~*~*~*

"So someone named Dylan called." I said as I raced after him.

Adrian grunted. That was his only response. It wasn't a happy grunt, closer to a groan, but he also didn't seem too concerned.

"She said if you ever wanted your watch back that you had better call her back." I relayed the message flawlessly and was rather proud of myself.

Adrian stopped and turned on his heel to glare down at me like the God of Death and Thunder had just possessed him.

I barely restrained a squeak.

"What?!" He snarled softly.

I put my hands in the air. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger, 'kay?"

Those dark blue eyes slowly blinked, then he lifted himself upright and smoothed both his suit and his expression, as I had seen him do before.

"I'm sorry, you're right." He turned on his heel again and continued towards the lobby door. "Come." Was all he said beyond that crisp admittance.

He didn't seem like a man who apologized often so I supposed I would overlook his nasty attitude today.

But he had better not make a habit of snapping at me or towering over me like that; it wasn't good for my heart.

###

Blessedly, our next appointment involved lunch. Lunch in a swanky restaurant that I had never been to before because it was way out of my budget.

I didn't feel properly dressed for the place, but the maître'd allowed me into the beautiful old building purely based on the fact that I was with Adrian.

The man we were there to meet was a very large, bald black man with facial hair, neatly sculpted. He had a nice white suit, tailored to his massive frame, and many rings glittered on his thick fingers. He had small dark eyes that missed nothing.

He seemed like a quiet man, for bearing such a large presence. He shook Adrian's hand with a somber greeting. "Kingsley."

"Ruben."

Then the man turned to look at me and he bowed to me stiffly, before extending a giant paw.

I pursed my lips and shot a look at Adrian, still feeling snubbed over how he hadn't shaken my hand when we'd first met.

I took the man's giant hand. His grip was surprisingly soft. "Eve Mathers." I said confidently, then added with a wry tone, "Mr. Kingsley's new PA."

"Ahhh." Ruben said as we sat. "Best of luck to you, I understand the position is a bit of a hot seat."

Adrian sniffed to express his disapproval, and with a flourish, his napkin landed in his lap.

I swiftly followed suit, keeping his phone studiously by my elbow.

To my chagrin, they then started talking about the stock market, and I heard pretty much all the same gibberish I had back in the conference room. Was there anything besides stocks and bonds and the trade routes through the Middle East that interested these rich people? I suppose being rich was a job all its own if one wanted to remain rich. Maybe I should start investing now that I had money to play with, then I blanched.