Five Minutes Late: A Billionaire Romance Read Free Page B

remind me of my pending status of extreme poverty.
    I was back at my post just before one, and security still had not arrived to escort me out of the building. It had to be just a matter of time before Devon “Your Luscious Ass Is Mine” Killane got around to giving me the boot, though, right?
    One, two, and three o’clock came and went, and I was still being left to twist in the wind. Like a hard-working sap, I stayed on duty, answering the phone – “Killane Corporate Holdings, main reception, how may I help you?” – directing visitors to whatever busy and important person they’d come to see, and watering the ferns and orchids and triffids and whatever as I waited for Devon Killane to strike me down.
    Four o’clock saw some welcome company come through the door. Sure, under the circumstances I probably shouldn’t have let three of Jerry’s buddies from the Salvation Army shelter come in for coffee, but what could it matter at that point?
    “Guys, I didn’t get a chance to buy doughnuts this morning, but you’re welcome to coffee – and I’m probably getting fired, so you’re going to have to find somewhere else to supply your sugar and caffeine needs in the future.”
    Lobby traffic was pretty slack at that time of day, so what the hell, I came out from behind my desk and sat with the guys for a few minutes.
    Bob didn’t talk much, but he didn’t need to – he was as tall as an NBA player, as wide as an NFL tackle, and covered in garish tattoos. When he came ambling along, people suddenly felt like sliding over to the other side of the street, and so they never had a chance to find out that the big guy was as gentle as a kitten.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Ashley. You’re really nice. Will the next lady be nice?”
    “Knowing this place, I doubt it, Bob.”
    Eduardo was so neat, quiet, and inoffensive that he almost wasn’t there. He’d done landscaping and general yard work in another life, and always liked to commune with the lobby’s exotic plant population whenever he came by. He poked around at one of the ferns before joining the rest of us for coffee.
    “Miss Daniels, that French staghorn fern needs to be misted more often.” He looked as if he had more to say on the subject, but felt it would be rude to belabor the matter further.
    “I’ll leave a note for whoever replaces me, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
    He sloshed his coffee around in the chipped ceramic cup and stared down at his work boots. “Are you sure you’re being fired, Miss Daniels?”
    Wow, he hadn’t said this many words to me in the first six months I’d known him. “Well, my boss got pretty mad at me for being late, Eduardo, and he chewed me out in front of a whole bunch of people – I really don’t think he’ll let me stay here after that. Plus, Jerry showed up and hollered at him in front of everybody about how nice I was, so that probably hammered the last nail into my coffin.”
    Eduardo sipped his coffee and reserved comment. Bob sighed.
    “Of course she’s fired – a capitalist oppressor like Devon Killane never misses a chance to beat down the working classes.”
    That was Michael. His entire world view revolved around how various capitalist oppressors were smiting us working folk in the name of assorted political theories that no one other than Michael understood. He said he enjoyed the ‘freedom’ of living on the streets, but I suspected it was more a matter of his being a confused and not entirely sane nineteen-year-old who couldn’t cope with reality well enough to hold a job – and of course, that fit neatly into his political rants.
    “Well, seeing as how he’s worth umpteen billion dollars, Michael, he can pretty much do whatever he wants, regardless of the social injustice of it all.”
    “Ashley, you’re just buying into the corporate mindset of profits over people, it’s as simple as that. Say, are there any of yesterday’s doughnuts left?”
    “Nope, just the crumbs Jerry