The Billionaire’s Fortune Baby

Chapter One

.~.~.~AMELIA.~.~.~

“Gosh our new boss is such a fucking prick.” I groaned in the employee lounge over the coffee machine, “Seriously. Ever since he’s assumed the position of CEO, he’s been nothing but a constant nightmare.”

Ophelia, a colleague and the head of the finance team chuckled softly as she poured a bout of milk into her coffee, “We didn’t even know he existed. I mean the Volkov family are known for their ruthless practices, who knew they’d acquire us through private equity and have their heir assume position.”

Private equity, acquisition blah blah blah. It didn’t matter, all I knew was the fact that my new boss was a massive pain in the ass and the worst human on planet earth.

“He asked me for premium coffee,” I scoffed, “Can you believe it?? The only premium coffee there is is from Starbucks, not some bullcrap with French beans as he claims.”

Ophelia laughed, “He’s fired over twenty staff in just a week.”

I groaned, “I’m about to be the twenty first if I don’t get his ‘premium coffee’”, making air quotes, “to him soon. God I which I could just spit in it to tw h him a lesson.”

Ophelia kept on laughing as I added just a dash of cream as he’d instructed to his “premium coffee” and left the employee lounge. I took the elevator as anything below a ninety-five degree was categorized as cold coffee to the wicked wizard.

I was lost in thought, wondering how I was going to handle some of my overdue bills when the elevator pinged at the tenth floor. My breath hitched as my heart suddenly did a flip. It had been a regular occurrence since he assumed office.

I gulped hard, walking slowly like headed towards my very own demise,

And there he was,

The very bane of my existence.

All muscled, broad shoulders, and impeccable posture, hair all slicked in the right place, piercing brown eyes, and a jawline that could cut through panes of glass.

My ever living boss, Dominic Volkov, all forms of handsome and wicked wrapped into a deliciously evil bundle.

“Quit ogling, Earhart. You’re late.” His grating voice of disapproval cut through my brief trance, and it took a great deal of self restraint in me to avoid scowling.

“The coffee machine was—

“I don’t care what happened. If you took the time to actually do your job then you wouldn’t be here with warm coffee/“

It was still hot. The damned coffee was still burning right on top of my calluses, but I couldn’t dare say so.

I gulped hard, already tired of his constant berating. Dominic Volkov was a tempered man, ill mannered if I say, but he seemed to hate me more than the others for reasons I couldn’t tell.

I pressed my lips tightly, offering a reluctant apology before turning around to leave when he called me back, “—And Earhart,”

“Yes, boss?” I blinked.

“The next time you talk about spitting in my coffee, make sure it’s not within earshot of my investors.”

I immediately went pale from the admission.

Damn Ophelia, she could’ve told me he was had super power of hearing before I nagged constantly about how unreasonable he was. I gulped hard as my throat ran dry, my mouth opened but no words could come out, not when I was standing between being unemployed and my boss despising me even more.

“I—I apologize for my—

“Save it,” he cut me off, “There’s a charity gala tonight. I need you to attend as my assistant.”

I nodded enthusiastically, grateful for them were fact he was letting my impudence slide, “What—

“8pm sharp.” He answered before I could finish the question. As I made to leave, “—and look nice. The last thing I need is you traipsing in those shabby garments of yours.”

I looked down at my clothes. A simple black dress which had seen better days but was too far from shabby. I gulped down the overwhelming urge to call him a prick to his face, and forced a smile insgwad.

“You won’t be disappointed, sir.”

I threatened to spit in his coffee, he deserved politeness from me at least.

He snorted in response, “Oh I’m sure I will be.”

I turned to leave, muttering the word “asshole” under my breath.

“What’d you just call me?” I heard his voice rose from behind.

“Nothing.” A quick lie. My voice was so hitched that even a toddler could tell o was bluffing.

Dominic Volkov walked over to where I stood, all six foot four panes of dangerous masculinity and terrifying energy. Then he leaned closer,

“No. Repeat what you just called me or you’re fired.”

“But I—

“I mean it, Earhart.”