The forbidden billionaire

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ng each other, constantly laughing and touching and they just can’t seem to get enough of each other, the white lies that I have to keep aren’t worth spilling, because at the end of the day, James will still love Diera and he still won’t even notice me, even if I am right under his nose nearly every day. I’m not complaining, not at all, I love my job and I am very well paid, I have set hours that I work unless in cases of emergency, which is pretty much four days a week, but still no complaining, because for ten years, I have had the simple privilege of being

round, trying to answer an overload of emails, trying to answer the phone that never seems to stop ringing and then running around, trying to get client files for James that he requested. I never stopped to look at the time. I quickly ran to my table, my heart pounding in my chest as

live. I can’t tell him that though, I refuse to tarnish the memory of the woman he loves. Instead, I keep on working, going on as if I know nothing of his private life. I don’t tell him about the empty hole I feel in my heart, about the fact that in the ten years t

is also no please and thank you, not since that day. I am surprised he even remembers my name most days. I quickly open the file on my laptop and send it to him, waiting for that thank you, stupid as I know there will be none. “Fuck!” I hear him shout and I flinch.

e ahead of schedule on the Betterman estate

has taken over the duties of his wife, or the duties he thought she had, instead, he has made my work less, by picking up Lamia from school every day and taking her to her dance classes and then leaving early to be home in time to cook for her. He tries his best to be mother and father for their little girl and I admire him for it, but I really wish I could help more. I wish I could tell him that I

salary while taking mine home.” I tell him with a little laugh that I really don’t feel, but

doubt that your salary is even ten percent of the salar

aughter are now haunted, lost and filled with grief. His usual five o’clock shadow has turned into a full on beard and I am not sure if I like it or if I hate it. Don’t get me wrong, I like a man with a bit of a beard, but I hate it because I know why it is there, because he has no energy or reason to put in the effort to shave it. His body is harder,

ys, rubbing his ha

I tell him when I se

ed. “You are chasing me away from my own office.” He says

get to your daughter on time.” I tell him and that seems to shake him out o

our ago.” He looks pissed and then looks between his office an

d why you are a bit late.” I tell him, hoping he won’t think my question strange. When he sighs in relief, I n

He says and I don’t bother to tell him that I already know all of this, because I know that will lead to questions and he won’t li

et to see my litt