Page 11 of Billionaire Corruption
“You can’t eat this,” he said firmly. “It’s not fit for human consumption.”
“It isn’t?” I had to smile despite my nervousness.
“I’ll get you some proper food. Surely you can sneak away for a few minutes to grab something to eat?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and I caught a flash of white from his teeth.
“A few minutes, I guess,” I conceded, quickly brushing past him to get to my desk. My heart was thudding as I heard him call out a time.
I tried my best to focus on work, but it was almost impossible. I couldn’t get over how nervous I felt when I was around him. It was as if I was barely able to talk to him. Like a schoolgirl or some inexperienced teenager. Compared to him, I knew I didn’t know much, had hardly left the city, never mind travelled the world or experienced anything. I was aware of how plain my clothes were, how my hair was not even styled or anything. I wore it straight down to my shoulders, not even bothering with highlights or a decent cut. I’d never been one of those girly girls, bothering with nail art and accessories. I was too busy finding money for a school trip for my brother, or some other new emergency.
When I went up for lunch to his office a few hours later, his personal assistant waved me through.
“He’s ready for you,” she said, super professional, as if I was heading in for an important business meeting.
But when I went into the office, I found Paul standing at a large table in the corner of his office, busy unpacking takeaway containers.
“I’m not sure if you’re a sushi person? Are you?”
“Not really,” I admitted.
He turned to face me.
“What kind of person are you?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about suddenly, but I knew it wasn’t food. He wasn’t smiling now. His eyes were on me, a dark blue that appeared almost grey.
“I don’t know, what kind of person are you?” I challenged him, right back.
He chuckled, “Touché, I guess.”
He leaned against the table, crossed his arms. He looked so confident, so sure of himself. My nervousness disappeared. I looked around at his office, the expensive furniture, the paintings on the wall, even the carpet under my feet, which was deeper and softer than the carpet tiles on our floor. I didn’t feel like eating. I walked over to a table, looked at a magazine that had his picture on the front cover.
“The ‘Aladdin of Ladden?’” I held it up to show him.
He shook his head. “Stupid, right? As if business success has anything to do with magic.”
“But you keep it out here, to impress people, right?’
“It impressed you, didn’t it?”
I turned around to face him. “Did you want it to?”
He came closer, the smirk gone from his face.
“I think I did,” he said, in a husky voice. “I actually wanted to impress you.”
“Why?”
He shook his head, slowly.
He spoke softly. “Since I saw you in the office, I have been unable to think of anything else. I can barely concentrate on work.”
Hearing him talk like this made my heart beat faster. The nervousness was back now, it was even worse than before. He was standing closer to me, and I had no idea what was going to happen next.
“It’s like we’re back in that lift,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I know.” I must have said it out loud, because he looked into my eyes and I actually felt my legs become weak, like in those silly romantic novels that I read in high school.
