Billionaire

Chapter 5

The man returns less than a minute later with none other than Benjamin Hansen tagging along behind him. My mouth falls open as he talks calmly into his phone, strolling casually down the corridor as if it doesn't look like a Greek God is trailing along behind him. I realize I'm dressed a little less extravagantly than I was the last time we spoke, so as they slowly approach my desk, I self-consciously wipe down my torn white tank top and old jeans.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I try for a casual smile as his pale green eyes focus on me. Delicious tingles run down my arms as I take in his silky, navy shirt and tight jeans- how does he always look like so put together?

We lock eyes, but I quickly avert my stare and dust my hands together, trying to stay professional. Thankfully, he speaks first.

"It's nice to see you again, Miss Leverton."

There's a beat of silence as he glances at his security guard who efficiently leaves the establishment.

"Hello." I breathe back, stepping out from behind the desk. He suddenly hands me a slip of paper, and I glance up at his perfectly chiseled face as he explains.

"A list of what I need. We'll talk as we go."

Glancing at his list, I begin to weave my way back down the corridor leading to the tool section, giving myself a brief pep talk about playing it cool, despite my rapidly pounding heart and the longing desire to rip that shirt right off of him. As we pass by various other employees, I'm not surprised to find that practically every female and male alike are gawking at us as we cruise through the store.

Oh, so he has the same effect on other people then.

Well, obviously; I mean, if you're not immediately impressed by his good looks, then his million dollar company will surely get you.

I effectively ignore a lingering group of girls who are staring a little too intensely at the man behind me, as well as the employee who seems to have completely given up on helping them shop and just looks blatantly irritated by the distraction. As we stroll past them, I realize that the employee is actually Joanne, one of the few kind employees who offered to help me paint the store this weekend. I give her a panicked look as she registers my situation, but just receive a cheeky smirk and a waggle of her eyebrows in response.

I roll my eyes affectionately as I reach the shelf I was looking for. Taking a few seconds to brace myself, I turn around and meet Benjamin's eyes. He glances from me to the shelf I've brought him to, then back at me, and then at the list in my hands. I angle it towards him so he can see the first item written there, and instantly regret this decision when he takes a step towards me, brushing against my arm in the process, in order to read it. Everything inside of me clenches as goosebumps ripple speedily down my arms.

"Which panes would you recommend for a greenhouse? The measurements are written there."

He annunciates clearly, barely glancing in my direction. Confusion surfaces inside me, and I can't help but fold my arms across my chest pointedly. Realizing I haven't replied, he flickers his gorgeous eyes to me, and I watch as he arches a single eyebrow.

"Your guard told me you needed to speak to me about something."

He blinks twice, briefly breaking his perfect posture by also folding his arms across his chest. I register the rather judgmental look on his face, and from the direction of his gaze, I can soon infer that it's delayed a reaction to my less-than-formal attire. I realize that he's probably accustomed to women busting out the cleavage-clad dresses and ten-inch heels at all times around him, but for now, he's just going to have to deal with this messy-bun-scruffy-I-hate-my-job ensemble I have on.

"We'll have to work on your politeness, miss Leverton." He says under his breath, and it takes me longer than usual to stumble backwards at this statement because of how much it takes me off guard.

"I'm sorry?" I splutter.

He speaks coolly after another long, exasperated sigh.

"Did you honestly believe I came here personally to tell you that you didn't get the job? Or anything else for that matter?"

Now it's my turn to blink at him.

"Your file provided no email address, so I came to give you this."

He reaches into his back pocket and produces a sheet of paper.

"It's a rough schedule and job description."

I take the sheet of paper, but can't seem to muster any words of reply in my stunned state.

"And you also happen to work at a department store and I needed some tools."

I absorb his words fast enough, and a huge, beaming grin soon overtakes my face.

"Wow- well- uh, thank you!" I let out with an astounded giggle.

Oh my God! I got the job?

He doesn't say anything more, and, although his face void of emotion would intimidate most people, I can't help but follow up with another question.

"I have a question-" I start, before realizing straight afterwards that he had already moved on from our conversation and was back to scanning the shelves; but, polite as always, he gives me his full attention as I speak.

"Can I call you by your first name?" I ask innocently, and his burning gaze transforms to take a harsher gleam.

"No. Only close friends and family call me by my first name, Miss Leverton. It'll be Mr. Hansen to you and everyone else unless I say otherwise."

"Oh...okay."

A suffocating silence stretches between us after that.

Only close friends and family can call him by his first name?