The Billionaire's BBW Secret Read Free Page A

worker,
and she would never hide or fail to flaunt that fact.
    “Well,” Larson said, standing up. 
Denny echoed him, lifting herself out of her chair was well.  “This has been an
interesting interview, to say the least.”
    Denny felt her heart leap up into
her throat at that comment.  Was that good, or bad?  She honestly didn't know. 
Larson was such a hard man to read.  As he reached over the vast desk to shake
her hand, she second-guessed herself.  Perhaps she had done a good job. 
Perhaps he'd invited her to interview on a lark, just for fun, but found her to
be every bit as competent as any other young, beautiful woman.  Perhaps he
found her to be even more able than those women.
    Perhaps she had a shot at this job
after all.
    She didn't want to get her hopes up
though.
    *****
    A few days later, after Denny sent
out her thank yous for the last round of interviews she went to, she found her
emotions in a downward spiral yet again.  Here she was, doing so much work in
trying to get a job, trying so hard to be independent, and she was failing
miserably.
    Why had she come to this city?
    It was a ridiculous idea in
hindsight, but Denny had assumed that finding a decent job in the city would be
a simple matter.  After all, there were so many businesses here, and so much
turnover that jobs flew up on search boards daily.  She must have applied for
hundreds, but she'd only gotten interviews for a handful of positions.  And she
knew what each and every interviewer thought of her the moment she walked
through the door.
    She was fat.  And fat meant lazy. 
Lazy meant she wouldn't get any work done, and that would be a terrible
investment to the company.  She hated the damned prejudices against her.  She
was a harder worker than anyone else in her old company, she got glowing
reviews, but people couldn't seem to look past her weight.
    It had always been like this.  Ever
since she was a child, Denny struggled with her weight.  She ballooned up to a
tub of butter in middle school, but then the teasing and peer pressure urged
her into a diet.  She did all right on the diet, but she'd never truly been
thin.  And food was always a struggle.  Every day, every meal.  And she lost
the will to struggle against it many years ago.
    She sighed and stared at the phone
in her shabby studio.  She wasn't going to let this get to her.  She was much
more than a number on a scale.
    But she didn't know how to convince
prospective employers of that.
    For now she set up her laptop on
the ragged coffee table she'd gotten from a thrift store for a whopping eight
dollars, and worked her way through various menial tasks on the internet. 
Denny had been able to scrape up a couple hundred dollars a month on referral
websites and human intelligence tasks, but it wasn't enough.  It didn't even
pay for the rent on this dump.
    She had to do something about
this.  She had to get a job.  Any job.
    Denny glared at the phone once
more, willing it to ring.  And to not be another damned interview for her to
flub, but an actual job offer.
    She nearly leapt out of her seat
when it did ring.  The harsh bell on the phone cut through the air like a
knife, piercing her ear drums.
    “Shit!” she hissed, and jumped up
from her low seat on the dingy couch – another thrift store find – and grabbed
the formerly white, now dirty beige phone off its cradle.
    “Hello?”
    “Denise Richardson?” a man's voice
came through the phone line, tinny, but familiar.  She couldn't quite place him
though.
    “Yes, this is she,” Denny replied.
    “Ah, good.  This is Brandon
Larson.  I want to extend to you a job offer on the position you interviewed
for.  The personal assistant position.”
    With every word that Larson spoke,
Denny could feel her pounding heart climb higher and higher.  It felt like it
was going to crawl right out her throat.  This couldn't be happening.  After
all the work she did, things were finally paying off.
    “Y-yes,”