My Unwanted Billionaire

“Good morning, sir” I greet Mr. Jason for the second time this morning. I greeted him earlier when he arrived on our floor and passed my desk. Once he arrived, he asked to see me. He has not said anything since I sat down in front of his desk, so I greeted him again to let him know I am here in case he forgot, even though that is not possible.

“I know you are here Eleanor, I am not blind,” He says while keeping his eyes on the papers in front of him.

“Of course not, sir,” I say, hoping I didn’t offend him.

“I want you to do comprehensive, detailed research on this man. I want to know everything about him, and when I say everything, I mean everything,” He says, handing me a file with the name Umberto Moretti written on it.

This is the first time he has ever asked me to do something for him. The whole week I spent working for him, he never asked me to do anything. I am thrilled things have changed.

“Sir, there could be about 1000 Umberto Moretti in this world. How will I know which one you need me to research on?”

“If you opened the file in front of you before you opened that mouth of yours, you would have known I did not ask you to research any Umberto Moretti,” He says, rudely insulting me.

“Sorry, sir,” I say and quickly open the file. The picture of the man is inside and some information about him. It’s not my fault I didn’t think to open the file first, but it does not give him the right to talk to me like that. I am starting to hate him more.

“Keep your sorry to yourself, and I want the report on him done before lunchtime.”

“It will be done, sir, and would that be all.”

“No, I need you to draft a contract similar to this one,” He says, handing me the document.

“Okay, sir, I will have everything ready by lunchtime.”

“Good, now leave.”

I stand up and leave, but just as I am about to turn the doorknob. He speaks.

“I don’t know what you did to my grandfather to make him, so hell bent on making you work here but trust me, it won’t be for long. I will find a way to make him see you for who you truly are, and I will make you regret the day you met me,” He says

I am about to speak and defend myself but decide not to. It won’t change anything, so I just turn the doorknob and leave his office. I don’t think anything I say at this point is going to change his mind. I will just let my actions do the talking for me from now on.

Lunch came sooner than I hoped, but I had everything ready for Mr. Jason. I had drafted the contract and also done my research on Umberto Moretti. I am about to stand up from my desk and walk to his office to give him the documents when he steps out.

“I hope you are ready,” He says as he buttons his suit jacket. He looks like he is about to step out for lunch. He must be having a meeting with Umberto Moretti over lunch. The contract I drafted was for Umberto Moretti. He is a ranch owner, and Mr. Jason plans to buy some of his lands in Italy to increase his vineyard. Mr. Jason has people who could handle this for him, but Mr. Moretti has refused to sell his land to the company. Mr. Jason plans to convince Mr. Moretti by himself.

“Yes, it’s ready, sir. I have done everything you asked,” I say, handing him the document. I expect him to collect the files from my hand or ask me to take them to his office, but he does not do any of that. Instead, he looks at me like I am mad.

“Other than being dumb, you also don’t understand English,” He says, which only makes me more confused. Why is he saying I don’t understand English and calling me dumb? If anyone has a problem with English here, it’s him. Instead of asking me if the files were ready. He asked me if I was ready.

“Sir, I don’t understand what you are saying?”

“Wow, so you truly don’t understand English. I asked you if you were ready, not if the things I asked you to do earlier were done”

“Oh,” I realize I am actually the wrong one, but you can’t blame me. Why would he ask me if I was ready? It’s not like he told me I was going anywhere.

“Now, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I do, but why are you asking me if I am ready?”

“Because you are coming with me.”

“Coming with you, to where?”

“Do you think I asked you to research Mr. Moretti only because I needed it?”

“Yes,” I say, hoping my answer is correct, but I have a feeling it’s not.

“Then you are dumber than I thought.”

“Excuse me,” I say, getting offended with him calling me dumb. Just because I don’t know a few things he is saying does not make me dumb.

“You have two minutes to meet me downstairs with everything we need for the meeting. I hope that brain of yours knows how to remember things because if it does not. So help me, God, I will make things more difficult for you here.” He says and walks to the elevator.

As soon as he leaves, I quickly pick up the contract and the report I did on Mr. Moretti with everything I think will be necessary for the meeting. Why didn’t he tell me earlier that I was coming with him for a lunch meeting with Mr. Moretti? He just likes making my life difficult, and I wonder why he needs me to remember things.

After I have everything I need, I take the elevator down to the underground parking lot. I don’t know if my life can become any more difficult, but it does. I can’t see Mr. Jason anywhere, and I don’t know which one is his car. I try looking for the most expensive vehicle since he is the company’s CEO; I guess he will have the most expensive car. Unfortunately, almost every car here looks the same to me. I hear my phone ringing, and even without fetching it from my purse, I know who is calling. I bring my phone out of my wallet and answer the call. Before I can open my mouth to speak, he beats me to it.

“Where in God’s name are you? Didn’t I give you two minutes to meet me downstairs?” He says, barking in my ears.

“Sir, I am in the parking lot, but I can’t see you.”

“Who asked you to go to the parking lot? Will, you appear at the entrance of the building before I turn you into dust.”

What does he mean before he turns me to dust? How can you turn someone to dust?

“I will be there shortly, sir,” I say and hang up the phone.

I take the elevator back to the first floor and quickly walk to the entrance of the building. I find him standing beside a black Mercedes.

“I am very sorry, sir,” I say once I walk up to him

“Don’t ever use that word with me again. I am starting to hate that word because of you, now get in the car. You have already made us a few minutes late.”

“I am s………….” I am about to say sorry, but the glare he gives me makes me shut my mouth. I enter the passenger’s seat while he sits behind. I can imagine if I tried to sit behind. He would have killed me right here and now.

“Andrew, the prime house restaurant,” He says to the driver.

“Hello,” I say, with a friendly smile on my face towards the driver.

“Shut your mouth and sit down there quietly,” He says before Andrew can respond to my greeting.

We arrive at the restaurant after a few minutes of driving. Mr. Jason steps out of the car and quickly walks into the restaurant with me following behind him. We walk to a private room in the restaurant. We walk inside and find a handsome Italian man already seated. He has black hair and green eyes.

“Good day, Mr. Moretti; I am sorry I am late. Traffic was bad on the way,” Mr. Jason says as he takes his seat. I stand because I don’t know if I should sit with them or not. The only chairs available are the ones around the table.

“No need for apologies; I also just got here myself,” He says in a thick Italian accent.

“Thank you for understanding, and shall we begin,” Mr. Jason says and extends his hand to me. I look at him confused, wondering why he is extending his hand to me. He harshly pulls me down so that my ear can be the same level as his mouth. “The documents for the meeting,” He says, gritting his teeth as he whispers into my ears. I can feel his anger at me with the pressure his hand has on my arm.

“Sor……….” I almost say the word, but he stops me when he increases the pressure on my arm. “Here you go, sir,” I say, handing him the documents, and once they are in front of him, he releases my hand. I am sure his hand must have left a bruising. I am so lucky I wore long sleeves today.

Halfway through the meeting, Mr. Moretti speaks to me.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

“Excuse me, did you say something to me?” I ask, wanting to be sure he spoke to me and not Mr. Jason.

“Yes, I did; I asked you why you refused to sit down.”

“Oh, I didn’t think it would be proper for me to sit down.”

“Why would you think like that? Please take a seat, dear,” He says, gesturing to the seat beside Mr. Jason. I look at Mr. Jason to see if it’s alright to sit down, but his face gives me nothing. His face holds its usual stern look for me.

“Thank you, sir,” I say, taking my seat beside Mr. Jason. I try my best to sit away from Mr. Jason as possible. I don’t think sitting down was a good idea because the second my ass touched the chair, I saw my death before my eyes. The blazing glare in Mr. Jason’s eyes is making me want to pee my pants. I don’t understand why he is so angry that I sat down. It’s not a big deal, so I don’t know why he is killing me with his eyes. I will have to wait for the meeting to be over to find out, but I hope the discussion never ends.