The Billionaire's Assistant

As Mom began to lose her battle with cancer, Dad had started drinking to cope with his impending loss, and then had collapsed in on himself after Mom died. As Dad fell into the bottle, Kathy had moved in with them to help with Mom's care. Because of his drinking and grief, Dad became increasingly erratic, and after he took a swing at another tech when he'd thought the man had stolen one of his tools, he'd lost his job. Now they were living on the government's dime, unwilling or unable to get on their feet again. They hadn't even come to my graduation, and neither seemed to want to have anything to do with me anymore. Their banal rejection and snubbing had been hard for me, and I felt like they somehow blamed me for Mom's death. I'd offered to quit school and come home to help with Mom's care, but Mom wouldn't allow me. She wanted to see me graduate college. She never gave up and fought the disease to the bitter end, but it hadn't been enough, and she'd died during my final semester, just two months before my graduation.

Smarting from losing my family, I'd thrown myself into my first job. I'd gone to work for a big developer in Phoenix, and I thought I was on a fast track for a career there, when my life went off the rails. I'd started falling for Craig Benson, one of the development managers, and I was falling hard. He was older than me by about ten years, but I didn't care. He gave me what I needed, validation that I was a good and worthy person. I'd been sleeping with him for about six weeks when someone pulled me aside and mentioned that he was married. Our affair had been quiet, but obviously some suspected. I was aghast and had confronted him.

At first, he'd denied the allegations. When I pressed, he admitted he was married, though separated, and then changed his story again and said he was going to leave his wife for me. I was having none of it. I felt betrayed and used, and when he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, it got ugly. Really ugly. I finally went to Mr. Kenyon, the owner, to complain. Mr. Kenyon warned us to get our personal problems out of the office or he'd do it for us. Less than two weeks later, while making a pitch to a potential client with Mr. Keyon, Craig had drunkenly barged into the meeting and made a scene. He'd first begged, then threatened, and then we were both terminated on the spot.

After his wife kicked Craig's ass out, the stalking got worse. Much worse. I called the cops on him a couple of times, but he kept harassing me and skirting the edge of the law. Every time I looked around, he was standing there, watching me. He was obsessed. He swore he loved me, wanted me forever, and would do anything for me. The more he tried to pull me back into his life, the creepier he got, and since I didn't have a job anyway, I finally fled for Las Vegas, hoping to make a clean start.

I landed the job at Callisto, and it was just what I was looking for. I could throw myself into my job as I tried to recover from the train wreck that was my life. I'd gotten my foot in the door and I hoped I could work my way up from the assistant to the VP of Development to something with a little more responsibility. Working for Dash had allowed me to see and do more than I ever thought possible. The hours were long, and I sometimes had to clean up behind him, but he never made a pass at me, he treated me with respect, and I respected him for it in return.

There were some pretty good perks that came with the job, like getting to stay in resorts that were far out of reach on my salary, even if I did have to stay in lesser rooms than the one I was standing in now.

"Nice," I said as I looked around.

Nice didn't even begin to describe the room. Decorated in the muted pastels common to the area, the suite had a sitting room complete with overstuffed white leather furniture and a television that looked as big as a movie screen. One wall was made completely of glass, overlooking the city across the bay, and another glass wall opened onto a balcony that overlooked the ocean on the other side of the island. Beyond the sitting room were the two bedrooms with private balconies and their own baths. The bathroom alone was bigger than my bedroom, and the shower was larger than my closet.

"It'll do," he said, kicking his shoes off. I followed him into the first bedroom where he opened the closet doors. My clothes were neatly hung beside his. "We really need to do something about your wardrobe."

My hackles rose. "What's wrong with my wardrobe?"

"Nothing, but they're not befitting my wife. You have to look the part, you know."

"They were fine before."

"That was before you were Mrs. Daschle Callisto."

I bit back my annoyance. He was right. If I was going to play the part, I had to look the part. "Okay," I finally murmured, though it galled me to have to admit he was right.

He smiled. "Tomorrow we'll do something about that. But now, I'm starving."

"I'll call for room service," I said as I turned to leave the room.

"Aubrey."

"Yes, sir?" He looked at me and I wilted under his stare. My response had been automatic, but I knew I'd fucked up.

"Yes, sir?" he asked with a slight smile, holding my gaze for a moment before he continued. "Look, you need to relax. You still look and act like my assistant." He crossed the room and placed his hands on my arms just below shoulders. "We're married. We need to start acting like it or this isn't going to work."

I slumped more. "I'm trying, Dash. I really am."

He rubbed my arms softly and it felt nice. "I know you are. I know I've put you in a bad spot, and I'll be forever thankful for what you're doing for me, but you're not my assistant anymore, remember?"

"All I said was I'd call for room service."

He smiled. "It's not what you did, it's how you did it. You said it like it was something you were expected to do. If you keep acting like this, Mom and Dad are going to get wise."

I slumped even more. "Sorry."

He put his finger under my chin and tipped my face up. "Nothing to be sorry for. We'll get through this, but just, I don't know, relax or something. You're always so uptight."

I forced a small smiled. "I don't know how."

He chuckled. "That's something else we're going to have to work on then." He released my arms, and I felt both relief and a bit of disappointment.

"Would you like me to call for room service, dear?" I asked, pitching my voice like I imagined a dutiful wife would.

He chuckled. "Thank you, dearest. That would be lovely."

I looked over the menu and placed the order. I knew what Dash liked and what he didn't. I hung up the phone and blew out air from puffed cheeks. Being Mrs. Daschle Callisto was probably going to be the hardest job I'd ever have.

.

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Dash

The remains of our meal had been cleared away, and I was relaxing, enjoying another glass of a very nice red. It would soon be nine o'clock, local time, and Miami was ablaze with light in the distance. Aubrey was sitting to the side, busily working on her tablet. I sighed.

"Aubrey, come sit with me." She rose and joined me on the overstuffed couch. "Closer," I added when she sat on the opposite side.

She swallowed hard and moved over next to me. I draped my arm around her shoulder and tugged her in close. She was stiff for a long moment, but then the tension drained from her body and she snuggled in.

"Would you like a glass?" I offered, giving my glass a swirl.

Aubrey had cared for me as I puked up my shoes more than once, but I'd never seen her touch a drop. I was ashamed to admit that I had taken her for granted. In the last six months, I'd come to depend on her more and more. She had a keen eye for business and was underutilized as my assistant. I should have moved her to another position, someplace where she could use her full talents, but I was selfish. I didn't want to let her go because I valued her input and insights. I knew she sometimes disapproved of my actions, but she never said anything and was always there when I needed her. I could assign her a task, any task, and be confident it would be completed, often beyond my expectations.

"That would be nice... thank you."

She started to rise, but I pulled her gently back. "Let me."

I didn't know what was happening. I'd hired her as a tool, someone to make my life easier, but I now found I enjoyed her company. I filled her glass and topped off mine with the remainder of the bottle. I smiled at her as I returned to the couch, realizing for the first time what had changed. I'd hired her to replace Timothy as my assistant. She'd done that, and without me even realizing it, she'd also replaced him as my friend.

"Here you go," I said, handing her the glass.

"Thank you." She sipped and nodded. "It's good."

I chuckled. "At two hundred a bottle, it better be." I paused, took her glass, and placed it on a side table, along with my own, before I turned to face her. "Aubrey, I want you to know how much I owe you. I can't possibly thank you enough."

She watched my eyes a moment and smiled softly. I liked it when she smiled. "You're welcome."

"I know you're doing this simply to help me, but I want you to know that, all money aside, I'm grateful beyond words. You didn't have to do this, but you did, and..." I ground to a halt, totally at a loss for words to describe how grateful I was.

"It's okay, really," she murmured, a tiny smile on her lips.

Something in her words, how she said them, how she was always there ready to serve me without complaint stung. It stung badly. I'd asked too much from her this time, but she'd willingly given it to me anyway. I bounded to my feet.

"No, it's not okay! I mean, it is, but..."

I stomped around the room. She was giving up five years of her life for me, and for what? Because I asked her too? It had seemed so simple before. I'd had a little more than a year to go before the deadline, and despite Aubrey's valiant efforts, I'd been no closer to finding someone than I had when this entire clusterfuck started.

Then I'd had the idea. I'd thought I was so smart, so clever. Aubrey and I would get married. Hell, she was at my side all the time anyway. It was perfect. We'd get married, wait out the five years mandated by my inheritance, then I'd let her go. The more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea.

I'd approached her with my idea. In exchange for a million dollars cash, plus another two million in company stock, she'd pose as my wife for five years. It was the only time I could remember seeing her mad, and she'd told me in no uncertain terms that I could 'go fuck myself.'

I'd thought she'd quit, but she hadn't, and it had taken four weeks of steady pressure before she would even consider the idea. Three months later, she'd finally agreed and we'd drawn up a contract. She'd stared at the document for a long time before she finally signed, and I felt like a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

Now I was feeling the burden of what I'd done. Until the wedding I'd looked at the hoax like a game, like an elaborate prank on my parents, but now it was real. It wasn't just a tactic to get around my family's unreasonable expectations anymore. I felt like a shit. No, I was a shit. She'd said no, and for four month, she'd continued to say no, but I wouldn't accept her rejection. I'd kept pushing her until she'd given in. Why? Why had I done that? Why had she finally relented? And now that it was done, here she was, doing everything I asked of her and covering for my mistake, just like she always did.

"This is wrong, Aubrey. What you're doing... what you're giving up... it's not right."

She watched me for a long moment, her eyes unreadable. "I didn't have to sign."

"But you did. Why?"

She shrugged. "I can use the money... and you needed me to."

I felt sick. If she'd stopped at 'I can use the money' I could have lived with it. But she did it for me. Goddamn her! Why was she willing to give me so much and ask for so little?

"I can't do this!"

"What?" she squawked as she leapt to her feet. "After all this, you're going to call it off? Why?" she cried, her disbelief clear in her tone.

"It's not right, Aubrey! I thought I wanted this, but I've realized what I'm asking from you. I can't do it. I don't think I can live with myself." I began pacing, unable to stand still, my guilt pushing me into motion, but no matter how many steps I took, I couldn't run from what I'd done. "You're not some stupid bitch who only wants me for what I can give her. You're my friend. Friends don't treat friends like this!"

She watched me a moment, her face neutral and giving nothing away. "It's not that much different than what we had before. You even joked once that you wanted me to move in with you. Well, now I have." She shrugged.

"That's not the point!"

"What is the point?"

"I don't know! I just know that now that it's done, it feels so wrong!"

She walked to me. "Dash, we'll get through this. It'll be okay. I won't interfere with your life. I just ask that you be discreet. I knew what I was signing. This is a business deal, nothing more, nothing less. Why the cold feet all of a sudden?"

I slumped. "I don't know. You'll really allow me to take a lover?"

She shrugged. "I don't expect you to be celibate for the entire five years. All I ask is you keep it quiet. I don't want..."

"What?"

She took a deep breath. "I don't want to have people looking at me with pity, okay? I can arrange everything so nobody will know you're... cheating on me. All I ask is for you to, please, not embarrass me."

"I'd never do that, but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Will you take a lover?"

She smiled, but it was slightly sad. "I don't know. Maybe. If the right guy comes along. I won't humiliate you, Dash. You have my word."

I nodded, the knife in my gut twisting. She was still covering for me. "I know you won't." I held her gaze for a moment, trying to read her thoughts. "Will you tell me something?"

"If I can."

"Why are you doing it, really? Why have you given up so much for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"When was the last time you went on a date?"

I watched as her eyes clouded, and she looked down. "A long time."

"Have you gone out since I hired you?"

"No."

"Why, Aubrey? Why are you willing to give so much? I'm just now realizing how much you've given, how much more you're going to give, and how much I've taken you for granted."

She shrugged. "All I have is work."

"Family?"

Her eyes welled with tears, but they didn't fall. "No family. None that want to see me, anyway."

I nodded and set my jaw. "I'm giving you the out. I'll come clean with Mom and Dad. I'll give you fifty percent of the stock and tear up the contract if you want. Just say the word."

She studied me, her gaze steady and unflinching. "Why? After all of this, why are you willing give up now? That's not like you."

"Because I feel like the world's biggest shit. No, I am the world's biggest shit. Look what I've done for money. Look what I've asked from you, all for money."

"It's not right, what your parents are doing."

"No, it's not. But two wrongs don't make a right."

She stepped in close. "We'll get through this together. I won't make trouble for you."

"It's not you I'm worried about. It's me."

She smiled, a sweet soft smile. "You remember the time when I had to bring you clothes after that woman rolled you and left you naked in the hotel room? Remember being on your knees without a stitch of clothing on, puking in the toilet as I wiped your face? Remember me warning you she was trouble?"

I grimaced and looked away, my face heating with shame. That wasn't one of my better moments. "Yeah, I remember."

"How much worse than that can it get?"

I chuckled. She always, always, knew exactly what I needed, sometimes even before I did. "I promise not to do that again."

"Then we can make this work."

.

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Aubrey

"What's that?" Dash asked as I lifted the elaborate gift box from our bag.

"Something your mom slipped to me before the wedding," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze.

After showing me what was inside, Karen had placed the box in the bag. I always did Dash's packing and had intended to remove the box before he saw his mother's gift. In the past he ignored me as I went about my duties, but tonight he seemed to want my companionship.

He held his hand out and, after a moment's hesitation, I passed him the container. He opened it and whistled softly as pulled the black nothingness from the box. It unfolded in his hands as he allowed it to fall open for his inspection. It was as ethereal as smoke and had probably cost more than one of my suits.

"My mom gave you this?"

I blushed. "Yes."

"Wow! Are you going to put it on?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, do you?"

"Do you want me to have to lie to my mom when she asks if you wore it?"

The corners of my lips quirked into a half smile. "Would your mother actually ask you that?"

He grinned. "No, probably not... but what if she did? Maybe you should put it on, just in case."

I sighed. Avoiding the elephant in the room as we pretended to be married was going to get complicated. Part of the agreement I signed, something I'd insisted on, was there was to be no sexual contact. I'd had enough of office romances, thank you very much. Now I was realizing how hard that might be to do. I didn't love Dash, and he didn't love me, though I was touched by his little speech earlier. I'd always suspected he was a good man despite is occasional lapses. When he'd approached me with his idea to secure his fortune, my opinion of him had dropped considerably. He'd won me over, reluctantly, but much of my faith in him had been restored this evening.

I took the naughty nightie. "This doesn't change anything," I said, my voice firm.

"Never thought it would."

I stepped into the bathroom and slithered into the negligée. I let my hair down and brushed it until it glowed before taking stock of myself. At twenty-nine, I didn't think I looked bad. My hair was my best feature. Strawberry blonde, more strawberry than blonde, it was striking, and everyone remembered me because of it. Though I liked my hair, I thought I was too pale. No matter what I did, I didn't tan. Where I did tan a little, it left behind obvious tan lines that I hated. I also wished I didn't have the bridge of freckles across my nose. The rest of my freckles were hidden by my clothing, so they didn't bother me as much.

The dark nightie was stark against my skin and caressed my curves to make me look my best. I didn't consider myself ugly, but I'd never look like the women Dash normally dated, not with their perfect tans, perfect skin, and perfect bodies. I sighed.

The thought of Dash's kiss, the one in the Rolls, came back to me and I flooded with desire. It had been so long, almost twenty months, since I'd taken a lover.

After the announcement of our wedding, he'd kissed me a few times in public to sell the idea we were in love. The kiss in the back of the car, and the one during the wedding, however, were not the little public smooches, but proper kisses. And goddamn, did he know how to kiss. He'd certainly had a lot more practice than I'd had. I shoved the thoughts aside. Better to just get this over with.

I opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom. He was standing in the middle of the room, phone in hand as he read, dressed in a pair of black silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. He might be four years older than me, but he was fucking stunning, and I worried I was going to start dripping on the floor. Standing there I realized how bad an idea this was and started to retreat to the bathroom to change, but he looked up before I could move.