The Billionaire's Assistant

“Of course.” His blue eyes widened with angelic innocence. “How could you doubt me?”

I smiled sweetly, just as angelic as him.

“For what, pray tell, were you apologizing?”

“For your dress. For your date. For...the lobster.” He leaned in closer, trying very hard not to smile. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me call up Cameron—apologize in person.”

A flash of indignation rose within me, paired with an exasperated sort of amusement. I turned back to the street so he wouldn’t see my grin.

“You’d do that?” I asked, playing along. “For Cameron? For me?”

His eyes twinkled—he knew he had me.

“Well you know I’d do anything for Cameron. And for you...? I could make a call.”

My lips turned up in a reluctant smile, and all was forgiven once more.

This little dance was nothing new for us. Since Nick had discovered the wonders of the New York subway system, I’d quit at least once a week for the last year.

“So, you’re apologizing, eh?” I prompted as we began walking once more.

Much to my surprise, he offered me his arm. It wasn’t like that never happened, but as much as we bantered back and forth, the two of us tended to occupy very specific roles. This morning, however, I took it gratefully. I had already slipped twice on the winter ice.

“Yes,” he answered cheerfully, “I have quite the apology in mind. But first,” he ducked suddenly into a store, pulling me inside with him, “we need to make a few stops.”

I caught my breath, clinging onto his arm for support as he tugged me inside. Then I blinked around in confusion as my eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lights.

“Dior?” I actually said it out loud, suddenly a bit anxious.

I had just been in Dior just the other day—for the second time in my life. Well, it was the millionth time in terms of going for clients. Only the second time in terms of going for myself. It had been to buy a certain dress, for a certain date, that a certain someone had interrupted. It had been a rare splurge—a dress that had set me behind several months in terms of rent. None of that was supposed to be a problem—except the dress had gotten mysteriously soaked in a fountain.

Suffice to say, I wasn’t particularly thrilled to be back right now.

“What are we doing here?” I asked nervously, trying to pull my arm away as Nick began wandering up and down the aisles. “You know you’re in the women’s section, right?”

Not that he was exactly a stranger...

“Oh—Mr. Hunter!”

As if on cue, a regal-looking woman came bustling out of a back room. Her pantsuit was tailor-made to perfection. Her gray hair was swept up into a perfect coif.

She kissed Nick twice on each cheek, taking care not to transfer even a speck of her bright crimson lipstick—as women on the Upper East Side have all been trained to do.

“Forgive me, we didn’t know you were coming in this morning. I would have cleared out the floor, or at the very least, requested some of the ladies to come in early and help you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

What? Is Miss Manners over here actually pimping for him now?

“It was a spur of the moment decision, Ruby.”

Of course her name was Ruby. Just like my mother’s cat.

“And I don’t think we’ll be needing any help.” He glanced at me quickly, before turning back to her with a charming smile. “I think my friend and I will just browse for a while.”

She looked completely taken aback. Clearly, this was not the normal way of things. I could only imagine how many times he’d come in here, looking for a dress, or a diamond, or a pair of trillion dollar shoes for his new flavor of the month. My guess was that he was asked to describe the flavor in three simple words, and the rest of them would pick things for him.

But not today.