The Billionaire's Plus sized redemption

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as pushing past the edges of the heavy window curtains, casting long yellow lines across the floor. The coo

or. The light was off. The polished stone counter was clean, except for two glas

in, louder this time, step

e soft rug. I looked at the dark green sofa, the coffee table, and the coat rack by the entran

I s

ngle sheet of hotel notepad paper. A heavy metal pen rested o

in neat, steady handwriti

ou for

hone number. There was no la

ered to the empty room, turning the smal

deep pockets of my dark wool coat hanging near the closet. I checked the top of the glass coffee table, looking for a receipt, a fallen

my watch. It was seven o'clock in the morning. I needed to get back to my ho

bright fluorescent lights overhead hummed loudly against the concrete walls. I stepped out of

Grant was already standing near my glass office de

on my desk. He pulled open the blue folder and tapped a sheet of paper with

. I pulled a black pen from the small woode

s the large glass desk. "You didn't read it? That isn't like you

g the drawer and dropping my car

ip against the edge of the desk. "You were at the Blue Note Lounge, weren'

in front of me, refusing to look

ndow with his pen floating two inches above the pa

't written a single letter. My mind wasn't on the billion-dollar contract on my desk. My mind was back in the

nt down against the paper to sign my name. "I have a lot of wor

olve a puzzle, but he didn't press the matter. He set the blue fol

o," Mason called back over his should

forget,

out the tall glass windows at the city of Riverton. The streets below were fill

earch files toward me and began reading line by line. But every

she had flinched when I first spoke to her, like she expected me to bark an order at her. And then I t

tors wanted my market share. Even Chloe Whitmore, who had worked as my executive assistant fo

t care about my last name. She had just sat on a wooden bar stool, drank a regul

ut loud, my voice rough in the sile

old myself it didn't matter. Riverton was a city of hundreds of thousands of p

I stood up from my desk, pulled my jacket off the back o

onde hair was pulled back into a tight, perfect bun, and her white blazer didn't have a single c

notepad. "I have updated your schedule for tomorrow morning. The regional

," I said, stoppi

tilting her head slightly. Her ice-blue eyes scanned my face quickly. "You seem

aid, turning toward

e tapped her pen against the notepad. "Sophia Reynolds from HR just called down to my desk. She s

hovering right above th

ndidates based on their administrative backgrounds. The first round of interviews is s