The Billionaire's Assistant

Chapter 25

Kat crossed to the car and sat obediently, the power of her name in his mouth still undiluted.

"Why don't you like me?" He asked in a low, still teasing tone, the deep rumble of his voice more intoxicating than ever. "Huh? Look at me Kat."

Kat felt butterflies release in her stomach and she fought the urge to hold her breath as she turned her face towards his.

"I like you," he said softly, his supple lips forming each word carefully. "Why don't you like me?" His smirk widened and Kat realized he was looking at her exactly as he had in the dream, the same hunger, the same anticipation. "You don't want to be friends?"

Kat was speechless, her face red hot and her body on fire. She'd never felt this way before, never experienced every nerve ending coming to life as thoughts of a man on top of her flooded her mind. Jove on top of her. He was still staring, the smirk glued to his face, and Kat fought for a response, for breath. '

"Sure," she finally mewed, the single symbol barely manageable.

Jove's smirk deepened to a grin. "Good girl."

Kat froze in her seat, stock still and staring straight ahead. Did he actually just say that? She thought? Did I imagine it? Did I just want him to say it?

She snuck a glance at him but he was busy flipping down the visibility visor and grabbing the keys from its pocket, his face clear of any sign of the sexual words having left his mouth.

"What are you doing?" She squeaked as he inserted the keys into the ignition and the car roared to life.

"I have to go," said Jove. "Prior engagement. I'm dropping you off first. Where do you live?"

"I...," Kat stopped, realizing that telling Jove her briefcase was still next to her desk was fruitless. "59th and Werner. By the old theater."

"I know it," Jove said, easing the car out of its parking spot and up the long tunnel leading to the wide garage door. The door was further than Kat expected and they traveled uphill for what seemed like a while, finally passing a booth stationed with two more armed guards. The garage doors clicked open noisily and Jove pulled smoothly into traffic, Kat sneaking more glances at him as he navigated the roads.

She stared at his right hand as it gripped the wheel, trying to rid her mind of the image of his fingers flexing inside of her. As she studied him she realized a hint of a tattoo was peaking from his sleeve and angled her head discreetly to get a better view, wondering what it was. He weaved through traffic expertly, his eyes on the road and his expression neutral, and Kat continued to study him, wondering how exactly she ended up in the plush leather seats of a car worth more money she'd ever make in her life while the man she was trying to destroy made sure she got home safely. And given her the day off, she realized. I'd barely gotten to the office.

Kat allowed her body to rest into the plush seat a bit, reveling in the cool, gentle silence. There was no trace of awkwardness, just comfortability, and she glanced at him again, a part of her almost wanting to reach out and poke him, to see if he was real.

She couldn't wait to tell Emma about this. The thoughts began to fall upon her one by one, a methodical cascade, an avalanche by parts. She was going to have to tell Emma about this. She was going to Emma right now, she was going to all of them, to the den. Andy would see her riding shotgun in this gas guzzler. More than that, Jove would know where she lived. No no, she realized with horror, more than that Jove would know where the den was, where the rest of FES lived. She was already in danger, why put them in it?

She breathed out, realizing she'd only told him the street. But where to be dropped off? 59th and Werner wasn't exactly the most residential street, and there were only so many buildings at that intersection that could actually be considered close to the theater.

"The Beazelbee!" she all but shouted, breaking the silence and surprising both of them. Jove looked at her, an eyebrow lifted.

"I mean, Beilizeilbee. The apartments, the complex, that where I live."

Jove chuckles at the urgency in her voice. "Ok, that's where we're headed then, I'm not gonna kidnap you Kat." He shifts his eyes to hers in the rearview mirror. "I would've tied you up first."

Kat flushes at his statement and he laughs again, turning the corner to her street.

The Belizeilbee was one of the stupidest things Kat could possibly think of, not an apartment complex, but an apartment concept, the sign outside insisted. 'Live like a Belizean tourist year round!' it promised, or potentially threatened.

"Who'd want to live like a tourist," her mother had remarked upon first walking past the new construction with a teenaged Kat. "I get wanting to live like you're from Belize, that makes sense, but why would you want to live like a tourist in Belize. I mean, we're not in Belize, there's no ocean, no Belizean vibes."

Kat had laughed, focused on her boba. "I think it means like, you get the most luxury parts of Belize, the parts only rich people get to experience."

"It's still stupid," her mother had griped, a perpetual defender of the city's historic buildings remaining unchanged. "It's gonna be like a million dollars a month to stay there and only people who don't actually live in the city will rent them. It's gonna sit empty, watch."

Kat had watched and her mothers predictions had come true, down to the few rented units in the 'concept' being out of towners who rarely returned. The building was a golden, gaudy eyesore created by two German men (one of whom, entirely unbeknownst to the public, had never even been to Belize). It showed, in the decor, in the marketing, and frankly, in the business plan's core concept.

But nothing was worse than the name. Unspellable, unintelligible, and nonsensical. Belizilibee was mispronounced by all but none worse than Mrs. Protgolio, who, an avid walker in the city, complained about the eyesore constantly. 'The ugly Beazlebee building,' she called it, and Kat and her mother had followed suit, the nickname becoming so commonplace Kat had forgotten to adjust.