Page 42 of The Rebel Billionaire

“Well, if you need anything, I’ll be just outside,” she says, as if I need reminding.

“Great,” I say, turning away because I need her to leave. She does, with a spring in her step.

Oh shit!

I drop into my chair and grip the arms.

I’m highly disciplined, completely focused—or at least I have been until now. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices to get where I am, and that includes my marriage. I can’t let this young woman walk in and derail me simply because she looks amazing in a dress I designed.

I shake myself.

Stay focused and keep your head in the game, Bianchi.

CHAPTER 13

HARPER

The phone rings, its internal light flashing to indicate it’s Alessandro.

I stifle a groan.

What have I done now?

I’ve been here four days. Four days that feel more like a lifetime. I’ve been ignored and growled at and had more work thrown in my direction than I ever imagined possible when I agreed to this position. My to-do list is getting longer, not shorter, by the day.

I pick up the phone, drawing in a shallow breath. “Alessandro. How can I help?”

“Brooke, can you come in here for a moment?” he asks.

Oh shit, what haven’t I done now?

Breathe…

Does he know Callie has left for the day? She has another appointment with her obstetrician to check on Little Button and her blood sugars.

It’s okay. Yesterday he said you were doing a great job.

But are you?

Maybe this is it? Is he going to fire me while Callie is away? Sweep me out of the building before she returns?

“Of course,” I say, putting down the phone and standing up, smoothing out the wrinkles in my dress as I go.

I inhale deeply before grabbing my notepad. It’s full of carefully collated notes, with Post-it notes sticking out of the sides and top to mark important sections.

I reach his door and knock.

“Come in,” he says.

The sound of his voice does strange things to my stomach.

I inhale and exhale, trying to calm my nerves before pushing open the door. The man leaves me a jittery wreck. I now understand how people must feel when they meet Elijah, my brother, for the first time. He’s an intimidating bastard, not only because he’s six feet six but also because he never used to crack a smile, or at least not until Pen returned.

Until then, he and Alessandro could have been formed from the same mould.

I step into the room, shoulders back.

“Take a seat,” he says, motioning to the chair opposite him.