Page 6 of How to Train Your Billionaire

There’s embarrassment, and then there’sthis—interviewing with the man who witnessed your most recent worst moment. Honestly, the interview was over before it even began. The universe must really hate me.

But I guess there was one silver lining to being kicked out of Hayes’s office. Curiously, his uncle Charles invited me to meet him for coffee this morning. I wasn’t sure what to make of his invitation at first, but I figured why not. These people clearly had money and connections. I’d be stupid not to follow through on a potential lead. Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t relish the idea of soon being homeless.

I listened to my best hype-up playlist this morning while getting ready, and since I had no idea what kind of coffee this would be, I dressed in what Tessa would call smart-casual. I didn’t want to appear like I was trying too hard, but I wanted to look put together. I wore my nice jeans, with no rips or holes, and a pink silky top. Simple ballet flats and a giant purse, which contains like half my life. What? I like to be prepared for anything life throws my way.

When I enter the café, my eyes scan the room. I spot Charles at a table in the back and head straight there. He’s your stereotypical elderly white guy—thinning silver hair, slumped shoulders, and a frown that makes him look like he just bit into a lemon.

“Good morning,” I chirp, slipping into the chair in front of him.

“Morning. Charles Winthrop.” He extends one age-spotted hand in my direction. We’ve technically met, but now that I’m facing him across a conference table, the name hits different. Like stepping into a history book.

There’s a Wikipedia page about the Winthrop family. They’ve been featured inForbesmagazine and countless news articles. They’re like the Vanderbilts. I haven’t personally read much about them, but I think their fortune was made in the late 1800s and early 1900s in oil or something. They have donated hospitals to cities and funded public universities. I know enough to know they are averybig deal.

I think of Hayes, and things begin to click into place—the finely tailored suit and Rolex on his wrist. Thank God I didn’t wear sweatpants to this meeting. I already feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I feel like I’m starring in a reality show I’m definitely not qualified for.

I give him a polite smile and try not to do anything embarrassing. I don’t think I’ve ever had coffee with a billionaire before.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” he says, leaning in. “I’ve never seen someone speak to Hayes the way you did.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well maybe he wouldn’t have such a stick up his bum if more people did.”

He seems amused by me, more than anything. “I suppose that’s a possibility. And you’ve worked as an accountant ...?”

“For the last eight years, and I love it ... I’m just starting to wonder if it doesn’t love me back.”

“Were you let go?” Those blue eyes fix on mine, and his bushy gray eyebrows lift.

Shaking my head, I lean closer. “Corporate downsizing. Prior to that, all my employee reviews were outstanding. Believe me, it was a total crock of—” I catch myself and flash him my bestnot-about-to-swear smile.

“You will never find peace if you’re fixated on things you cannot control.”

I stare hard at him. “Say that again.”

He does, more slowly this time.

Nodding, I lean forward. “You’ll never find peace if you’re fixated on things you can’t control. That’s good. I like that.”

“Well, it’s true. How would you like to work for me?”

I blink at him, unspeaking. “Doing what? Because if you think I’m looking for a sugar daddy or something, you have another think coming ...”

Charles’s shocked expression eventually gives way to a look of amusement. “I’m looking for a travel companion.”

“What’s a travel companion?” I blurt, thoroughly unprepared for where this morning has taken me. “Actually, could you put a pin in that? I saw a giant chocolate chip muffin in the bakery window that was practically calling my name when I came in. I can’t focus until I eat. You want one?” I rise from the chair and begin digging through my monstrous purse in search of my wallet.

“A chocolate muffin?” Charles sounds confused.

I nod. “If you don’t eat something, your blood sugar could get low. Low blood sugar could lead to hypoglycemia. If left untreated, hypoglycemia can lead to blurred vision, seizures, and even death ...”

Charles continues blinking at me, like I’m a difficult math equation he’s trying to solve.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those health nuts,” I scoff. My personal belief is that life is too short not to indulge—which I do often.

“Okay,” he eventually relents, but I think mostly because he wants me to stop talking.

After a quick trip to the counter, I set a double chocolate muffin in front of Charles on a saucer with a mentalta-da!

He stares down at it and pokes it with his fork. “Wow. That’squitea breakfast.”