The Billionaire's Allure 2
When the handsome billionaire Aaron Adamson takes his new assistant on her first business trip to New York, she expects the trip to include more opportunities to get to know him better, but she’s frustrated to discover that he’s focused on a new business deal. More
When the handsome billionaire Aaron Adamson takes his new assistant on her first business trip to New York, she expects the trip to include more opportunities to get to know him better, but she’s frustrated to discover that he’s focused on a new business deal.
When Kate meets another assistant at one of Adamson’s corporate partners, she’s shocked to learn that Adamson has been through several assistants in the last year. Worried about her new job and confused by her new boss, Kate has to keep her wits about her while navigating an international arms deal, or end up as an unemployed paralegal.
We entered the elevator and I punched the button for the ground floor. That bitch hadn’t even acknowledged my presence. Turn the other cheek, Kate. She’s no one.
On the way down, I could feel William’s eyes on me. I watched him in the reflection of the door, and saw that it wasn’t just a feeling—his eyes roamed up and down my body. I wasn’t sure if Adamson noticed it or not, but he didn’t say anything as we went through security and left the building.
“William, go to the Hilton and gather our luggage,” Adamson said. “We’ll be at Teterboro by five. Be there and be ready for two weeks of travel.”
“Yes, sir.” William peeled off to hail a cab.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone.
“It’s not Citronelle, but the chef used to work for me,” Adamson said, as we walked.
“Sounds great,” I said. I couldn’t tell if he knew that William was creeping me out, or if he really did want to hurry. Either way, I wasn’t going to complain.
We stopped at a little Italian place. The low awning, dusty windows and half dozen tables with checkerboard tablecloths seemed chintzy, but Adamson’s rapid-fire exchange of Italian with the chef as we entered gave me hope. That the chef was working in a kitchen open to the rest of the restaurant gave me even more hope.
A waiter rose from where he was reading a paperback in the corner and brought us an unlabeled bottle of wine and a basket of steaming bread. He sauntered back to his book, leaving us alone.
“I told Marco to make us whatever was fresh,” Adamson said. He sipped his wine and smiled with approval.
“What time do we need to leave for Tokyo?”
“Whenever we’re done shopping. We’ll have to stop in Alaska for fuel.”
“How long is the flight?”
“Thirteen hours or so with the stop.”
The waiter came over and deposited a pair of chipped plates. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked.
“We’re good,” Adamson said.
“You’ll need a suit, skirt suit and hiking clothes. A swimsuit and an evening gown wouldn’t hurt, either.”
“Hiking clothes? For Tokyo?”
Adamson gazed at me levelly. “Tokyo isn’t our only stop. John and Owen don’t need to know about all of our business.”
“What, are we selling to both sides?”
“Both sides plus an interested third party.”
I cocked an eyebrow. A third party? Taiwan? Korea?
“We’ll speak about it later.”
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