The Billionaire's Bitch

Nineteen

Back home at last - not that Kingsley's penthouse really felt like home - I collapsed into bed.

I could've stayed there forever, but eventually I had to drag myself off to take a shower. Afterwards I pulled on some normal clothes; my favorite pair of yoga pants, pink, and a white cotton T. With my wet hair up in a towel, I was finally able to go over the work package that Adrian had given me, in its entirety. Inside was another privacy act reminding me that my boss's business was none of my biznass.

Yeah, yeah, I thought, rolling my eyes as I balled the thing up to toss it into a wastebasket.

There was a sheet with logins and passwords to different devices and work servers I might need sometime in the future. I added them to the notes in my phone now so that I'd always have access to them when I needed them.

There were a few other stupid forms telling me unnecessary things like, 'When you're in the employ of Mr. Kingsley, you will always conduct yourself in a way that reflects positively on the company.'

Blah, blah, blah.

Another eye roll and I tossed the condescending "dress code" forms into the wastebasket.

I think I got it in terms of how Adrian expected me to dress at this point. The outfit he'd ordered for me had said it all. The fact that I couldn't afford silk blouses would just have to be put on pause until he paid me my first paycheck.

I'd done the math and since he would pay me twice a month, I would get two paychecks a month for roughly $7,000.00. That was more than I had in my bank account right now, possibly more than I'd ever had in my bank account, at least in terms of having personal spending money; not just inheritance money from my grandparents that went straight into the black hole of my school debt.

What was I even going to do with all that money? Once I had paid off my school loans, of course, and had bought myself a car, per Adrian's requirements.

I giggled maniacally as I imagined the shopping sprees I could go on, the spa days I could take my sister on, and the lunches I could now buy for all my friends. Now if only I had more friends to show off for! Of course, if I had a booming social life, I wouldn't even have this job.

Adrian had made it crystal clear who he was looking for; a blank canvas, a young, green horse he could train himself. Basically, a nobody who had no obligations on them. I had no kids, no husband, and I wasn't too self-absorbed to be a bad lackey.

I sighed to myself as I reached the meat of the work packet.

It was a notebook, unassuming in its simplicity. It was a sickly shade of Manila and was bound with a strip of yellow tape.

I flipped it open and found it filled with scribbling notes; all different types of handwriting.

It was the notes of all the PAs who had come before me, I realized, my eyes widening as I noticed the dates and the different sign-offs. There had been so many, some for only very brief spans of time, with short, blurry entries.

These were not happy notes.

'Mr. Kingsley is impossible to please.'

'I haven't slept in 42 hours, but I don't dare sleep until his laptop is properly organized.'

'Nothing I do EVER seems to be good enough, no matter how hard I work.'

It was as disheartening as a fifteen-year-old girl's diary entry after her first boyfriend breaks her heart.

I gulped, turning another page and getting the sinking feeling that there wasn't going to be anything in here that actually helped me do my job, no technical support whatsoever.