Billionaire's Assistant

“Don’t tell me what to do!” She stomped her foot. “I’m an adult. If I want to work before or during college, it’s my decision.”

“Your job is to be a student. I can provide for us.”

“I want to work!”

“My word is final,” he said in a tone that meant it was the end of the discussion.

I looked at her and mouthed, “Tomorrow.” She tilted her chin just a little bit so that I knew that she understood.

Money was a touchy subject for Paul. He worked his ass off when he’d switched from being a responsibility-free twenty-something to a guardian and unwilling parent for his little sister. They were twelve years apart, and I’d always suspected that Riley was an oops baby.

I knew about his parents’ debts. I had my own income from my company and a trust fund, but Paul was too damn stubborn and independent for his own good. He wanted to be the one to provide for his family and wouldn’t accept any help, even as a loan. Even if Riley was complete shit at being an executive assistant, I could make sure that they had a little more income.

Paul cleared his throat and turned to me. “Sorry about that, bro. Wanna go?”

I nodded. “Let’s do it.”

We’d done this hundreds of times, but today I was a little more conscious of Riley following us down. She’d watched me pick up girl after girl over the years. She thought I was just as much of a dog as her brother, which was right. If I wanted to touch her, her brother would beat my ass.

She was probably untouched, considering how protective Paul was. I thought about being her first, parting her thick thighs before becoming the only man who would ever be between them.

I had no right to think about her like this. We were walking down the stairs to walk to the bar that was down the block.

Wing-woman

Riley

TWO HOURS LATER

I was sucking down my third Shirley Temple of the night and watching my brother and Dez run game like they always did. They’d read in some stupid book, The Game or something dumb like that, that it was a good idea to bring a wing-woman because women were naturally competitive.

It would take a really insecure woman to want to compete with me. I wasn’t anything to write home about. I had two eyes, two ears, a nose, and curly hair that I ruthlessly got chemically straightened, even though we clearly couldn’t afford it. I tried to make it better by going for the budget option, but my hair just seemed to frizz instead of forming curls or staying straight.

I was underage, but with Dez slipping the bartender and the bouncer a twenty each at the beginning of the night and telling them not to serve me any alcohol, I could sit at the bar and watch them run game on scantily clad girls.

The weirdest part was that the smartest girls were the easiest for them to catch. A PhD didn’t mean that you were smart about men. I’d watched them do magic tricks and ask seemingly innocuous questions that would later lead to girls screaming their names when I needed to sleep. When Dez didn’t want to drive a girl home, he’d spend the night on our futon with a companion. I always made sure to wash the sheets after he spent the night, because I didn’t want any skank contamination on them.

They were sitting at a table now with two girls who were totally buying what they were selling. Paul was slipping a cheap copper bracelet onto a girl’s wrist. I could hear him saying, “I think this’ll look really good on you.”

I rolled my eyes. He had a lot of cheap but pretty jewelry that I’d helped him pick. If they didn’t seal the deal soon, I was going to walk home on my own. I was already here when they set the hook. Now they were responsible for reeling the girls in.

There was a girl who was sloppy drunk and practically sitting in Dez’s lap. She was trying to kiss him now, but she had no accuracy. Her red lipstick was smearing on his jaw.

That was it. I wasn’t going to sit here and watch that. I’d had a crush on Dez forever, but somehow tonight it bothered me more than usual to see a girl make a fool of herself over him.

My brother was making out with his girl now. I rolled my eyes. I knew that he never raised their expectations or made them promises he wouldn’t keep, but I felt like touching someone should mean more than just getting your rocks off.

Since he was clearly busy, I texted them on our group text.

RILEY: I’m walking home.

I opened up my purse and made sure that I had my keys. I shoved my phone inside and slid off of my bar stool. When I turned, I slammed into a very tall, hard wall. It took me a minute to realize that it was warm and had lipstick smudged on its jawline.

Walking Home

Desmond

“It’s too late for you to walk home by yourself.” Especially not dressed like that. She was fully covered up, but any drunk asshole on the street could accost her. She was tiny, not even up to my chin, whi