Page 28 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

I cringe, wishing I could backspace on the haha part. If this is real, which I think it is, I am talking to the personal assistant of Morgan Bale. The older brother of the Bale brothers. The one that runs the show, from what I know. And here I am writing, haha.

BaleResorts- Bale is looking for a travel blogger to fly out to a few of their locations and write reviews based on their experiences.

Reviews. Of Bale Resorts. It feels too easy not to have a catch. Except that this time, it’s not anonymous. It’s Bale Resorts.

MooreToExplore- So you’re wondering if I am interested?

I ask the obvious because either way, this is wild.

BaleResorts- Well, I’ve been sifting through social media platforms and yours has popped up multiple times. You have quite the following. And people seem to love your natural, fun-loving, witty approach.

MooreToExplore- Would it be anonymous?

BaleResorts- Of course not. How can you promote us if it’s anonymous?

Right.

BaleResorts- If you send me your email, I can send you the details. A short job description, expectations, duration, pay, and interview details.

Obviously, I do it. Because why wouldn’t I? This is exactly what I need, even if it is a little fishy. Again, what are the odds? Still, I’d be stupid to pass it up. As long as they don’t need a review of Miami, of course. And if they do, I will not be staying in the executive suite.

Plus, I can actually tell my sister I got another job. A job with a name. The email pops into my inbox immediately, and I open it. It’s a job with bulleted expectations, a timeline, and–

“Cheese and rice!” I blurt out.

…a very nice paycheck.

“Hell yeah,” I say, ready to text my sister right now that I have an interview.

Wait. When is said interview?

I scroll down the email and nearly have a panic attack.

“One o’clock! Today!?”

With that, I skip the text to Claire and rush to the bathroom to scrub off last night’s mistakes.

I cannot mess this up.

Chapter 9

Scarlett

Bale Resorts headquarters isn’t what I expected.

I would have thought it would look similar to their hotels. A tropical building with palm trees around it. Inviting and classy with Paris Hilton doppelgängers going in and out rotating round doors. But this is no Hilton, and there isn’t a Paris clone in sight.

It’s tall, gray, and very lackluster. But as I sprint towards the doors, I know I’m in the right place because right above my head is a sign that reads Bale Resorts Inc.

Hmm.

It’s clearly not a cheap building, boring as it may be. A sign on the inside of the doorway reads EST. 2006. So it’s a new building. A building that the original founders of Bale Resorts did not build. That would track considering the small amount of info I know about Bale. It was originally a husband and wife who started the company. If I had to guess, Morgan’s parents.

“Can I help you?” the woman at the desk asks as she drags her eyes away from the computer screen in front of her. She’s young with large glasses and a small, heart-shaped face.

“Yes. I have an interview?” I state, still trying to catch my breath.

“An interview?” she echoes.