In the Billionaire's Arms

Zoe POV:

I put out the open sign as soon as I was done cleaning the coffee shop. I hated this job. I hated the way the customers who couldn't keep it in their pants looked at me with devouring eyes. I hated the way they hit the other waitresses' butts, although they hadn't tried that on me because I always gave them a mean look that clearly said I had no time for nonsense.

I graduated from college a year ago and this was the only decent job I could find. The rest I either had no experience and was not qualified for the job or the employer was trying to sleep with me before they gave me the job. I wondered why the world was such a messy place. I wondered why my life was a complete mess too.

I managed to finish college with the help of my aunty. My father was a soldier and he died when I was just ten years old. My mother…well, she disappeared into thin air, and we couldn't find her, so we all just kind of figured she was probably dead. A few years after my father died, but before she disappeared, she had married a complete monster who treated her like trash. I was convinced he was an ex-convict, but Mum didn't say anything about it. When Mum disappeared, we knew he had something to do with it, but we had no evidence against him.

The other employees began to stroll in. They were all quite late. I wondered why I was the only one taking the job seriously even though I hated it. Some customers began to stroll in as well and I began taking their orders.

"Zoe, those men at table eight want you to take their orders," Dan informed me.

I looked over at them, and they were giving me a disgusting smile. I rolled my eyes and groaned.

"Remind me why I haven't quit this job."

Dan let out a small laugh before he went into the kitchen.

I grabbed a notepad and a pen and walked over them. "Good morning, what can I get you?"

"You could be a little nicer," one of them said.

They reeked of alcohol, and I wondered if they drank until the sun rose. There was a bar nearby. They had to have come from there.

I sighed. "What can I get you?"

"Ayyy, señorita, be a little nicer to your customers," the one with a mustache said with a Spanish accent.

The only one who looked a little sober and sensible said, "A macchiato for me. I dunno what these drunk guys want so just get them anything."

I wrote down their order and was about to leave when one of them grabbed my hand, pulling me towards him.

"Let me go!"

"Calm down. I just want your number." He put his hands on my waist, and I almost lost it, but I knew I would be reprimanded for hitting a customer. I tried to wriggle out of his grip, but it was too tight.

"Get your hands off me, you bastard!" I was on the verge of hitting him when I felt a presence.

"Get your hands off her," somebody ordered. He sounded calm but there was so much authority in his tone like he was used to ordering people around.

The most handsome man I had ever seen in my life stood in front of us dressed in a black suit and a white shirt. A few of the top buttons were open and he had his hands in his pocket. He had dark, wavy hair and blue eyes that looked like the ocean. He seemed quite familiar, but I just couldn't remember where I had seen his face before. He looked like he had been working all night and he was sexy as hell. Looking that good should be illegal! I felt my knees turn to jelly.

The drunk man let go of me. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"Someone who's going to fix your face if you don't leave that woman alone. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

A hefty man appeared behind the Greek god, and it seemed like the drunk men came back to their senses. The handsome man glared at them before he and his bodyguard went to have a seat. He waved his hand signaling me to come over.

"Hello. What can I get you, sir?"

"Cappuccino with extra foam, please," he said without looking up from his phone.

"What about you, sir?" I asked the other man.

"I'm good, thank you."

I went over to the counter and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. What the hell just happened?

***

Philip POV:

"Let's stop at a coffee shop. I need coffee. Somewhere quiet, please," I told my driver and bodyguard, Mark.

"Okay, sir."

I woke up feeling like hell. I didn't get enough sleep and it felt like my head was about to explode. I rushed out of the house without making a cup of coffee even though I needed it badly.

My father had recently handed the company over to me and retired with his mistress. Mum died a few years ago and it felt like a piece of me was buried with her. I still hadn't gotten over her death. I was still traumatized. Mum's death took a great toll on Dad too, but he kept acting like he was okay.

Running MacArthur Industries wasn't easy, but I was determined to do better than my father did. My father had instilled me with a competitive spirit by making me compete with him over everything since I was young. At some point, it didn't feel healthy or right, but I got used to it anyway.

We stopped at a coffee shop and walked in. The place wasn't filled with people, thank God! I wondered how Mark knew about this place. Well, he knew the city better than I did.

Some kind of commotion caught my eye. I took a seat and watched a waitress battle a group of drunk men. Wasn't it too early to get drunk? I wondered.

Something was intriguing about the waitress. Seeing as she couldn't wriggle out of that man's grip, I stood up.

"Sir, don't get involved," Mark advised.

I ignored him and walked over to them. The way his hands were on her didn't sit right with me.

"Get your hands off me, you bastard!" she spat.

Feisty one. Interesting.

Getting her out of their web was easy but I wondered why I got involved in the first place. On a normal day, I would stay out of this kind of drama, but something felt different today. I blamed the lack of coffee. It had to be that.

The girl was back with my coffee, and I got a good look at her. Tall, long legs, high cheekbones, skin like a baby, long, black hair, and the prettiest eyes. She looked like one of those Victoria's Secret models and I wondered why she was working in a coffee shop.

She placed the cup of coffee on the table with shaky hands and I noticed her manicure.

Again, something was intriguing about this girl.

"Thank you," I said.

She scurried away and I wanted to smile at how cute that was. Get a grip on yourself! I told myself.

I took a sip of the coffee, and it had to be the best I had ever tasted. I looked for her at the counter when I was done with my coffee, but she wasn't there.

I dropped some bills, which included a huge tip for the woman on the table and walked out of the coffee shop.

I felt as if my senses had come back to life. I made a mental note to go back there again, just for the coffee.

***

Zoe POV:

Days had passed and Mr. Blue Eyes hadn't come back to get coffee. He left a huge tip for me that day and I wanted him to keep coming in just for the tips.

I finally accepted I wasn't going to see him again, so I took him off my mind. I was still bent on getting a new job with better pay.

My best friend, Amy, had already gotten a decent job and I couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Everything just had to be difficult for me.

I held my cheek in my hand and stared out the coffee shop’s glass door. It was around nine o'clock in the morning and we only had one customer.

A black SUV pulled up beside the coffee shop and out came Mr. Blue Eyes and his bodyguard. My eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and I nearly fell out of the chair.

Oh my God! I probably look like a mess right now! My hair is all over the place and my lips must be so chapped.

Again, he was dressed in a black suit, a white shirt, and a tie. This man was a snack!

"Is that Philip MacArthur?" Shirley asked behind me. "O…M…Freaking G!"

He's Philip MacArthur? I knew I had seen his face before!

He signaled for me to come over, but Shirley moved in a flash before I could. There was nothing I could do so I just remained there. Shirley came back with a disappointed face and a pout.

"He asked for you, pretty face. Go get him, girl!" She seemed more excited than I was.

I walked over to them trying to keep my gait steady and as graceful as I could. His eyes bored into my soul, his gaze was so intense, and I've never had anyone look at me like that.

I felt giddy under his gaze and my insides were melting and had probably turned to lava.

"Hello, what can I get you, sir?" I asked and I couldn't recognize my voice.

"Same old," he replied.

"What?"

He raised both brows. "Cappuccino with extra foam? I've had my secretary come get them regularly. Didn't she tell you?"

Oh, so that lady who always picked up two cappuccinos with extra foam every day was his secretary? Oh, wow, what a gorgeous secretary. Way too gorgeous to be a secretary. Even if she had told me, I didn't know his name at that time, so I probably wouldn't have remembered.

"No, she didn't, sir. I'll get your order right away. What about you, sir?" I turned to the bodyguard.

"I'm good, thank you."

"Get him the same thing too. He needs coffee way more than I do."

"Okay." I scurried away and I could feel his eyes boring into my back as I walked back to the counter.

Shirley was ogling him with a dreamy smile. She sighed. "He looks way better in person. Those magazines and commercials do him no justice at all."

"Quite ogling him, Shirley. He might get you arrested for your creepiness." I turned the coffee maker on and got to work.

She turned away. "By the way, those men over there want you to get their order. Why does everyone keep requesting you today?" She shrugged. "Anyway, you're making work easier for me." She took out her phone and started taking pictures of Philip MacArthur.

"Don't get caught. That's probably illegal," I warned her before taking the cups of coffee over to them. I placed them on the table with shaky hands and got a glimpse of his phone. He was staring at a lady in red lingerie before he scrolled up. He looked up at me and caught my eyes. I looked away immediately, but my cheeks probably turned all shades of pink.

"Thank you," the bodyguard said.

"You're welcome."

I went over to the other men that requested my attention. "Hello, what can I get you?"

"Just plain coffee and pancakes," one of them said.

I turned to the other. "What about you?"

"Macchiato and your number." He licked his lips and eyed me from head to toe.

"Sorry, I don't give my number to strangers."

"We could change that, baby girl."

I glared at him and walked away. I prepared the coffee and took it to them. "Your pancakes will be ready in a few," I informed the other guy whose face was buried in his phone.

"What about your number?" He grinned.

"Ever thought of seeing a dentist?" I asked him and his friend snickered.

"You could be my dentist." His grin only grew wider. I walked away before he could say anything else.

I looked at Mr. Blue Eyes' table, but they weren't there anymore. When did they leave?

I went to the table to get the bills he dropped, and again, he dropped a huge tip and his business card. On a piece of paper, he wrote: Need a secretary. Call me if you're interested.

Did he just offer me a job?

Zoe POV:

I stared at the business card as I sat in the dining room.

"Just accept the job, Zo, otherwise you won't stop staring at that card," Aunty Emilia advised.

I dropped the card and began to eat. So many thoughts raced through my mind. I had no experience at all. I mean, how do I go from a waitress to the secretary of a celebrity business mogul? Most importantly, why did he offer me a job knowing absolutely nothing about me?

I heaved a sigh and Aunty Emilia looked at me with concern.

"Your cappuccino did the magic. Just accept the job, ZoZo. I bet it has very good pay. What are you afraid of?"

"What if I have to leave you?"

"Oh." She waved. "I'll be fine on my own. Take that job, Zoe. That's somebody's dream job you're being slow about." She stood up and took her plates to the kitchen.

I grabbed my phone and dialed his number. He picked up on the fourth ring. "Hello?" His voice sounded deep and a bit sleepy. It was probably the sexiest sound I'd ever heard.

"Hello. This is Zoe," I said with a squeaky voice.

"Who?" he asked.

He didn't even know my name and he offered me a job?

"The waitress from the coffee shop." Saying that out loud made me realize I deserved a better job.

"Oh. You should have called earlier. It's pretty late."

I looked at the big clock in the living room and it was almost ten o'clock.

"Oh shit," I swore and realized I shouldn't have done that. "Umm, I'm sorry. I just got off work." Technically.

"Have you accepted the job? We'll discuss the pay tomorrow."

"When do I start?" I asked excitedly.

"Tomorrow."

He ended the call before I could say anything else.

Yeesh, impatient much?

***

The cab dropped me off in front of the very tall building of MacArthur Industries.

I adjusted my skirt and walked into the building. I hadn't worn heels in a while, but I still managed to have a steady gait with them on.

Inside, the building was a wonder. The ceiling was so high, and the floors were cleaner than my life. I could see my reflection in them.

"Hello," I greeted the receptionist. "I'm here to see Philip MacArthur."

"Good morning. Do you have an appointment with him?" she asked with a genuine smile. I thought billionaires' receptionists were always bitchy but this one wasn't…or maybe she was just doing her job.

"Yeah, kinda."

"Okay, what's your name?"

"Zoe Ortega."

"Okay, give me a minute, please." She picked up the telephone. "Hello, Zoe Ortega is here to see you, sir. Okay, sir." She hung up the phone. "He said you should use the private elevator to go to his office. 17th floor."

Whoa! "Where's that?"

"Straight ahead." She pointed.

"Okay, thank you." I smiled at her.

"You're welcome." She smiled back and turned to the other person.

I went straight ahead into the private elevator and pressed 17. Damn, the elevator was so nice!

Finally, I stepped out of the elevator and took a deep breath. I was able to locate his office and I knocked on the door and heard a deep voice say, "Come in."

I opened the door and walked into the nicest office I'd ever seen. Everything in here screamed wealth! There was a ceiling-to-floor bookshelf with different kinds of books on it, including novels. Bookworm noted.

Philip MacArthur was sitting in a black leather swivel chair behind a big mahogany desk.

"Are you going to keep standing there?" he asked.

"Oh," I muttered.

He never took his eyes off me as I walked to his desk and sat down. "Good morning, sir." I greeted.

"Quite the early bird, huh?" he asked as he collected my resume. He looked through it and stared at me. "You graduated from college last year, studied an amazing course, but you’re working in a coffee shop?" He was astonished.

I know, right? I wanted to say something, but I just shook my head with a tight smile.

He dropped it and stared at me, "You do know what this job entails, right?"

I nodded again.

"I need you to use your mouth," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I adjusted in my seat. I didn't want to get too comfortable, not that I could since I was so uneasy.

***

Philip POV:

I could see how uneasy she was. Not to brag, but I tended to have that effect on women. The moment she walked through the door with that interesting, fitted skirt, I knew this woman was going to cause me a lot of trouble. What was I getting myself into? I pushed all my thoughts out of my head and got a grip on myself.

I had one rule: never mix work with pleasure. And I was going to keep sticking to that. So, I let all my unclean thoughts out the window and tried not to get distracted by the red lipstick on her full lips.

We discussed the pay, and she was surprised that I was going to pay her so much. Well, she had a lot of work to do as my secretary.

"You're to make my coffee every morning or whenever I need it. You'll be with me on every business trip I go on unless I say you don’t have to attend. Please refrain from wearing provocative dresses." She looked at her blouse. "I didn't mean you're dressed that way now. I meant you shouldn't dress that way at all. Finally, whatever you do, don't end up falling for me. You can ask other secretaries before you—it won’t end well." I stood and buttoned my tux. "Let me show you to your desk."

My cousin, Clinton stepped out of the elevator while I showed Zoe her desk.

Zoe looked at him with her mouth wide open. "Clinton Gregory?"

"Yeah, and you are?" He stretched out his hand for a handshake.

"Oh my God! I'm Zoe." She took his hand with so much excitement. Well, it's not every day you see one of Hollywood's top actors.

"Nice to meet you, Zoe. My cousin can be a douchebag sometimes. Just try to live with it." He put his hands on my shoulder and I glared at him. "By the way, red lipstick looks great on you."

She was all shades of pink. "Thank you," she cooed. Well, it's not every day you get a compliment from one of Hollywood's top actors.

"Your new secretary is hot," he said with a knowing smile as he sat in my swivel chair.

"So?" I asked with raised brows. "And you're not allowed to sit there."

"Is that why you hired her?" he asked again.

"I don't find her attractive." I wanted to believe that I was saying the truth.

"Oh, that means I can shoot my shot then?"

"Clinton, leave my secretary alone and get your butt out of my chair." He raised his hands in surrender and got up. He walked to the window and stared into the distance.

The intercom buzzed. "Yes?"

"Oops, I'm sorry. I'm just excited and I'm pressing all the buttons."

"Zoe?" I called.

"Sir?"

"Stop playing around and get to work," I warned.

"Yes, sir." She ended the call, and I shook my head. I turned to Clinton. "Your parents are still filing for a divorce?"

He sighed, walked to the couch, and sat down with his leg crossed. "Yeah. I don't understand why they want a divorce after so many years of being together."

Clinton and I practically grew up together. When I was younger, my parents would drop me off at his house on holidays or when they wanted to go on a vacation. Clinton was an older brother to me and the only person I could call a sibling. His mum, who was my father's older sister, had practically raised me, and when Mum died, she was like a mother to me. Seeing a couple that I considered my second parents get a divorce was disheartening.

"I'm sure they’ll sort things out," I told him.

He sighed and then his face lit up. "Rumor has it that you're dating a hot model. I can't remember her name. But she's hot."

"They are just rumors. I went out with her once and the pictures are everywhere."

"Well, you're Philip MacArthur. Expect Paparazzi anywhere you go."

"I don't even like her that much, but she keeps blowing up my phone."

I pressed the intercom button. "Zoe?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Have some flowers sent to Kenzie Winston with a touching note that I can't make it today."

"Okay, sir. But sir, I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Who's Kenzie Winston?"

I sighed. Why did I hire this girl? "Zoe?" I asked.

"Sir."

"Figure that out yourself." I ended the call.

Clinton shook his head and threw his head back in laughter.

***

Zoe POV:

As soon as he ended the call, I looked up Kenzie Winston and found out she was a supermodel.

"If he wants me to clean up his mess for him, he should at least be nice about it," I muttered as I went through a flower catalog and placed an order.

My phone buzzed and it was a text from Amy.

Did you get the job? If yes, how's working for Philip MacArthur? Leave a text, can't talk now.

I replied to the text immediately and told her we should hang out on the weekend. I stared at my new office. I couldn't believe I finally got a job, and not just any job, but as a secretary for Philip MacArthur.

Mum must be proud of me in heaven, I thought.

The lunch break came in the blink of an eye. I knocked on Mr. Philip's door and heard him say, "Come in."

"I'm going on my lunch break, sir," I informed him. He nodded and went back to his phone call.

"She's hot, though," I heard him say before I closed the door. I rolled my eyes. One thing I knew about Philip MacArthur from what I read about him on gossip blogs and tabloids was that he was a big-time heartbreaker and philanderer.

As I walked out, I saw a few people getting up from their desks.

"Hey, are you the new secretary?" a man asked.

"Yeah. I'm Zoe." I stretched out my hand for a handshake.

He took it with a smile. "Will, and this is Dani." He pointed to the lady beside him.

She waved. "Hey, welcome." I stretched my hand out again, but she leaned in for a hug. "Of all the secretaries he has ever had, you are the prettiest," she beamed.

"Thank you," I said genuinely. "I love your ‘fro, by the way."

She patted her curls. "Thank you. I like you already."

"Come on. We were about to take our lunch break. You can join us," Will offered.

"Sure. Let me get my purse and my phone." I grabbed my purse and phone from my desk and turned to them. "Let's go."

"I saw you go into Mr. MacArthur's private elevator this morning," Will said when we were in the elevator, and I nodded. "I thought you were either his sister or a very special lover because he never lets anyone use that," he said.

"Whatever you got on him, girl, it's working," Dani said, and we all laughed. We stepped out of the elevator, and they took me to a restaurant just two blocks away from the building.

We sat close to the window. "So, how's working for Philip MacArthur been these past few hours?" Will asked as he sipped his cola.

"Well, nothing much has happened. Any survival tips?"

"I have one piece of advice for you, girl. Just get things done on time," Dani advised. "He hates tardiness and everything. Also, get used to seeing women troop in and out of his office almost every day. If that man decides to open a church, it will be filled with women."

We burst into laughter. Dani was right though. Everybody knew Philip MacArthur sure had a way with women. He was always seen with supermodels or actresses, and then there were dating rumors and break-up rumors flying everywhere.

At that moment, I hoped I wouldn’t join his league of women. I was going to keep it strictly work with him and ignore how breathtakingly handsome he was.