The Billionaire’s Secret Babies(3)

As soon as I post the ad, Lucie starts to whine – I can tell it’s her by the unique high-pitch in her voice. I leap up from the computer and dart into the room. She’s just fussing in her sleep, but that of course woke up Luca. Pretty soon both of them are yelling for bottles.

It takes me the better part of an hour to feed them and calm them down enough that we can all return to the computer together this time, both of them balanced on my knees.

“What do you think?” I ask them as I open up my email. “Will Mommy find a new job today? She’d better, or we’re all in a bit of trouble…” I jiggle Luca a little, bouncing him on my knee.

To my surprise, there’s an unread message in my inbox, Re: Personal assistant position. Already? I click it open – sure enough, someone saw the ad I posted on that site. Thank god, a lead, at last!

I am looking for a personal assistant to help out around my house, and with some work tasks associated with my business. If you are interested, please let me know – I am a child-friendly employer and very flexible for families. I’m looking for someone to start immediately though, so please respond with your availability as soon as possible if you are interested.

-Cassius Anderson

Below that, he lists a starting salary that, to my shock, is even higher than I was making in the office. My eyes widen. This could be the break that I needed.

I quickly type out a reply – at least, as quickly as I can while juggling the twins. I tell him that I’m available to start as soon as possible, but I won’t be able to come by today, since I don’t have a sitter set up – could I meet him tomorrow?

His reply arrives before I’ve even stood up to go and fetch the binky Luca is crying for.

Not a problem – come by today and bring the children.

I pause for a moment. A quick Google search of his name brings up a professional profile online, as well as more than a few websites. Not to mention some Google images.

Damn.

I stare open-mouthed for a second at the first few images of him. He’s in a suit, at some kind of fancy event, which explains why this photo is available online. If they tagged him correctly. Cassius here is one hell of a hottie.

Shit, those deep gray eyes, his perfectly wavy black hair falling across his forehead, not to mention his sharply cut chin and chiseled cheekbones… I can imagine the way he’d look gazing down at me, taller, in control, but with a deep understanding in his eyes. Unbidden, I start to picture the way it would feel if he bent toward me, caught my lips in his, wrapped those strong, muscular arms around my waist and crushed my body against his. The way his hard chest would feel digging into mine, his lips claiming my mouth…

I shake my head, bringing myself back to reality. Get it together, Manila. You know better than to fall for looks. My ex was a hottie too, and look how he fucking turned out. He left me with nothing to show for our five years together but a whole lot of emotional fuckery and a broken heart.

Thank you for being so considerate, I write to Mr. Hot Future Employer. I will stop by later this afternoon, then.

Then it’s a mad scramble around the house to ready the babies for a trip. I have to pack their bags, make sure I have extra diapers and formula, just in case, and then I try to make myself look somewhat presentable for once. I brush my wild mess of hair into a somewhat straight, neat ponytail, and put on makeup for the first time since I gave birth. After all, Cassius might be way off-limits, but I want to make a good impression. Not only because he’s a potential employer, though I try to fool myself into believing that’s why. It takes me a while to pull up the bus schedule to his place—he lives far from me, downtown in a wealthy neighborhood. It’ll take a while to get there, especially if I have to commute every day. But if this job works out, I’m set. I’ll have enough money to take care of the twins – not to mention an employer who understands the pressure of single motherhood, and seems flexible enough to help me out.

Worth it. No matter what it takes.





3





I’m used to rich guys. I worked for more than a few in my past, and Mark himself, my most recent asshole of a boss, was pretty well off.

None of them had anything on this apartment.

Cassius is right in the heart of downtown, in one of the brand new skyscraper buildings they’ve been putting up for all the newcomers migrating to the newly cool city of Austin. Even from the outside, I can tell he’s rolling in it. But when I enter the lobby and find a doorwoman inside, who directs me to the penthouse – “Mr. Anderson is expecting you,” – I realize I’m on a whole other level with this guy.