Billionaire's Assistant

By Alyse Zaftig

DESMOND
I shouldn't look. Shouldn't touch. 
I'm a player. Womanizer.
My best friend's little sister is off limits. 
Forbidden. 
 

RILEY
I've always had a crush on my brother's best friend, but he treats me like a kid sister. 
Until he hires me and we're making out in his office. 
I need him. 
He wants me. 
Simple, right? 
Wrong. 
***Guaranteed happy ending!***

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zaftig Publishing
• Release date: Apr 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386318583

Book preview

Billionaire’s Assistant

Also by Alyse Zaftig

Angeleno Billionaires

Sunshine

Trouble

The Bad Boy's Pregnant Bride

The Reformed Bad Boy's Baby

Chased by the Dragons

Galapagos

Chased by the Dragons

Her Dad's Best Friend

Working for Her Dad's Best Friend

Paying Off Her Dad's Best Friend

Fake Marrying Her Dad's Best Friend

Seduced by Her Dad's Best Friend

Saved by Her Dad’s Best Friend

Spying on Her Dad's Best Friend

Protected by Her Dad’s Best Friend

Falling for Her Dad's Best Friend

Guarded by Her Dad's Best Friend

Sleeping with Her Dad's Best Friend

Tempting Her Dad's Best Friend

Defended by Her Dad's Best Friend

Cherished by Her Dad's Best Friend

Longing for Her Dad's Best Friend

Imperial Draka

Secret Prince's Bride

Standalone

Fresh

Tonight Only

Billionaire's Assistant

Drug Lord

An Heir for the Billionaire Werebears

The Volleyball Coach's Surprise Baby (Coming Soon)

Billionaire’s Assistant

Alyse Zaftig

Contents

1. Acceptance Letter

2. Inexperienced

3. Untouched

4. Wing-woman

5. Walking Home

6. First Day

7. Eric’s Contract

8. Interruption

9. Busted

10. Octopus

11. White Shirt

12. Squid Ink

13. Position

14. Delusions

15. Apex

16. Discovery

17. Desmond’s Place

18. First Move

19. Future

20. Hospital

21. Zara’s Return

22. Paul’s Motorcycle

23. Groceries

24. Club

25. Stage

26. Reunited

Preview of Next Book featuring Paul and Emma

Acceptance Letter

Riley

When I got home, I threw my purse on the counter. I sorted through the mail that I’d grabbed from our mailbox downstairs. After getting turned down by Yale via their website portal, I wasn’t too excited to read any other denials. I hadn’t applied to too many schools, since we didn’t have the money for me to go run off and attend a four-year university right now. My older brother, Paul, said that I wasn’t ready to live on my own yet. He wanted me to stay at home until I was an old maid. He was way too overprotective after our parents died. He still thought of me as the six-year-old little girl that I was when he left for college, and he never let go of it. I’d been through my growth spurt, but he still called me Squirt .

Squirt’s major ambition in life was to be a professional actress and singer, not that surprising in LA. So Paul didn’t understand my desire to become a social media maven. Facebook was something to him that was where you went to share pictures of your children, not an advertising platform of increasing relevance for businesses. He thought wanting to go into social media marketing was on par with a six-year-old girl’s dreams of stardom.

I sorted the mail into two piles: my letters and Paul’s bills. I knew that I had to leave them on the front table, but I hated watching his shoulders get tense when he got home and saw the pile of bills.

At the bottom of the pile of mile, I saw a huge yellow envelope that made my heart beat faster. Denials were short and polite. They arrived in thin envelopes. This envelope was huge

and

fat

.

I took a look at the door. Paul would be home soon. I needed to move to my room. I took my mail into my room, even the dumb Valu-Pak envelope. I closed my door before I opened the fat yellow envelope. The return address said University of SoCal, one of the few colleges that allowed undergraduates majoring in marketing to concentrate on social media marketing.

I tore it open, even though my hands were shaking. Please. Please.

I looked at the letter on the top which started with Congratulations.

I didn’t know exactly what happened, but one moment I was upright and the next moment I was staring at my ceiling. Was this

letter

real

?

When the room stopped spinning around me, I calmed down enough to read the rest of the material. I finished reading the letter, which said how excited they were to admit me, and then read through all the first-year residential materials. I had to figure out the course catalogue and make a lot of decisions.

I swallowed hard when I looked at my housing options. It was a huge stretch to try to cover the cost, even with the generous tuition help they gave to National Merit Finalists, which I was. Even if I worked my way through college, there was no way that I could afford any of it. I didn’t care. I logged into their website and officially sent my acceptance of admission, money be damned.

I heard the front door open. Paul’s footsteps thumped into our home. Riley?

I’m here! I called. I needed to figure out a safe place to stash my acceptance letter. I normally could hear the roar of his motorcycle when he got home, but I must not have been paying attention. I looked around. I saw the door beginning to open and shoved it under my pillow. Unoriginal, I knew, but I was pressed

for

time

.

"Hurry up. We’re going out for drinks with Desmond in five. If we don’t get moving soon, we’re going to miss

happy

hour

."

I didn’t know what had happened to my big brother. He used to wear a hoodie and flip-flops year-round when he was off duty. Cheerfully irresponsible, never serious besides work. Now he was really boring and always stressed out. When our parents had died, they’d left substantial debts for us, the heirs,