The Billionaire From New York City

by Simply BWWM

  “I’ve actually lived in the city my whole life,” Ethan said. “Born at Mount Sinai, less than ten blocks from my parents’ place on the Lower East Side.”

  “So your parents must have been pretty comfortable,” Brianna pointed out. Ethan shrugged.

  “They did pretty well for themselves,” Ethan admitted. “Dad was in finance, Mom was in patent law.” He ate one of the shrimp and Brianna finished off her crab cake.

  “I thought my parents were doing pretty well to be living in one of the better gated communities in Broward,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I can’t even imagine what the rent on even a basic apartment in Manhattan would be.”

  “True enough,” Ethan said with a little smile.

  They went on to other things, winding down from the workday as they waited for the rest of their food. For Ethan, it was a novel experience in a familiar setting: watching Brianna enjoy the high-quality, classic food, savoring everything and reacting to the balanced flavors, was so alluring—so gratifying.

  Ethan took the check without even glancing at the total, when they’d finished the sumptuous meal, and they left. “Do you want to go to Rockefeller Center? We can definitely walk there from here—or we can just catch a cab straight to Madame Tussaud’s,” Ethan said as they stepped out of the restaurant together.

  “We have time to do both,” Brianna said, looking around. Ethan didn’t take her hand in his—that was too intimate, too much like a girlfriend—but did touch her waist to turn her in the right direction, so they could start off in the direction of the first major landmark they were going to see that evening.

  “How are you liking the city?” Ethan fitted his stride to Brianna’s, glancing around idly in the way he’d learned to when he was younger, walking to and from the private school his parents had sent him to. It was a constant impersonal scan, seeing the people on the sidewalk not so much as fellow persons, but as potential traffic impediments. It wasn’t as bad, in the dinner hours, as it would be during the day—and especially since they weren’t at Times Square or Penn Station, there weren’t as many tourists or other distractions. But there was no real part of the city that wasn’t teeming with life—part of why he loved it.

  “It’s taking some getting used to for certain things,” Brianna admitted. “It’s actually quieter most of the week than I thought it would be.”

  “You’re out in Brooklyn,” Ethan said. “It’s not as noisy out there—it used to be almost-suburbs, in terms of the families. Working class people, still. Most of them want to get some peace and quiet when they’re not at work or going to market.”

  “Your apartment doesn’t catch much of the noise up here in Manhattan,” Brianna countered.

  “I pay a premium for that,” Ethan told her. “Being that high up off the street, and the special double-thickness windows and all.” He grinned. “When I was in college, I had a place in Greenwich Village—cheap by those standards, but of course I still had my parents paying half my rent every month.” He shook his head.

  “Oh, wow—yeah, you are never allowed to say you didn’t grow up privileged,” Brianna told him, smirking slightly. “If your parents could afford to pay half your monthly rent, even on a place in Greenwich Village…”

  “Okay fine, I admit it: my parents were pretty well-off,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes. “Not nearly as well off as I am, but they were damned comfortable.”

  “Here I was thinking my parents were doing well because they were able to pay my car insurance through university,” Brianna countered, shaking her head.

  “You keep thinking of me as this rich dude who just buys everything, don’t you?” Brianna gave him an arch look but didn’t say anything. “What?”

  “Well consider what you did to get me the job I have right now,” Brianna said, as they turned the corner and reached the last block on West 50th before they reached Rockefeller Center. “You took me out for an expensive dinner, and waited until the next morning to tell me that you owned the company I work for and that if I didn’t come and work as your assistant and business-hours toy, you’d lay off people in my department.” She paused and looked at him significantly again.

  “First of all, I didn’t lie to you—I just didn’t tell you,” Ethan countered. “Secondly, I didn’t threaten to fire you, and I had reasons to have to lay people off throughout the company—not a lot, but some—anyway. It was just a matter of bringing those things together.”

  “It still isn’t exactly okay,” Brianna pointed out.

  “You liked me before I did that, though—and the sex, you have to admit, is amazing,” Ethan said. Brianna shrugged.

  “The sex is amazing, and the card access to buy sexy lingerie to wear under my work clothes is nice,” she admitted. “And the paycheck is amazing. But it is a pretty rich-dude move to just throw money at the problem of not having anyone to fuck while you’re waiting for a delayed conference call.” Ethan snorted, but he had to admit she did have a point.

  “Here we are,” he said, pointing out Rockefeller Center ahead of them. “We can go up to the top, if you want; get a nice view of the city.”

  “Let’s do it,” Brianna said. “After you, boss.”

  Chapter8

  Brianna tilted her desk chair back slightly, carefully rubbing at her eyes for a moment —she didn’t want to smear her makeup—to relieve some of the strain on them. Ethan had been away for an hour already, meeting with some associates at another company about some kind of investment or buy-out or something; she didn’t know the specifics. It meant that there was unlikely to be any kind of major break in the workday, since he’d told her, Cassidy, and Jennifer that he didn’t expect to be back until three.

  It was strange to Brianna to think that, after a few short weeks—not even quite a month—she was so used to work-hour trysts that she actually felt disappointed at the knowledge that she was probably going to go without one that day. Amazing what you can get used to, she thought, reaching out towards the top of her desk with her eyes still closed for the tumbler of coffee she knew was there. It would probably be cold, but Brianna had discovered that the coffee from the diner about three blocks from her apartment in Williamsburg—she didn’t even remember the name of the place, but could easily picture its facade in her mind—was unusually good, even cold.

  “What are we doing for lunch today, ladies?” Brianna opened her eyes and took a sip of her coffee, glancing at Jennifer.

  “I hadn’t even thought about it,” Brianna said, shrugging. In fact, she’d thought—when she got up that morning to get ready for the day—that she and Ethan might meet up somewhere for a quick lunch and then a quick fuck. “The Creative Department is doing a thing—I got an invitation, but it feels weird to go back there.”

  “Yeah they’d probably consider you a traitor,” Cassidy said, giving her a quick look. Brianna resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “No—they’re covered, and they get that what Ethan wants, he mostly gets,” Jennifer countered. “Besides, from what I heard, Brianna did so well on her first day down there that they were probably going to be out of work for her to do by the end of the week, anyway.” Brianna smiled slightly at that; of her two new coworkers, Jennifer was definitely the one she liked better.

  “I was going to head down to that Ethiopian Sixth—Awash or something?” Jennifer looked from Cassidy to Brianna. “Would it be horribly racist for me to ask if you want to come with?” Brianna snorted.

  “I’m not Ethiopian, but Ethiopian food is pretty damn good,” she said.

  “No—no, I know you’re not Ethiopian,” Jennifer said quickly. Brianna smiled.

  “It’s all good,” she said. “I’d love to go with you.”

  “All that stuff’s like stews and things, right?” Cassidy wrinkled her nose, and Brianna shot Jennifer a glance. “I was going to go to Crif Dogs.”

  “I went there the other day,” Brianna said with a shrug. She and Ethan had ordered a few things for a quick lunch—or
at least, relatively quick—before sneaking back into the office for a tryst. “Let’s do the Ethiopian place,” she told Jennifer.

  Cassidy looked mildly offended, but Brianna turned her attention back onto her computer to finish up what she needed to do of her official work before it was time for lunch. She heard nothing—at all—from Ethan in the last hour before the break, so she decided that she would be safe to leave the office, to be with one of her new coworkers. After almost a month on the job, she thought it would be worth her while to at least develop some kind of friendship with Jennifer; she doubted there was a chance that she and Cassidy could find anything in common enough to want to be friends.

  “It’s so nice out, let’s just walk,” Jennifer suggested when they left the building. Brianna was a little relieved; neither of her coworkers knew that she had a driver, and she wasn’t yet confident enough of geography in the city to know if the place was in walking distance—and it had been weeks since she took the subway, to boot.

  “Sounds good; besides, we need to do something to counteract all the sitting we do,” Brianna agreed. They started off headed north, towards the restaurant, and Brianna had to admit that the brittle sunlight, filtered through the gleaming metal and glass of the skyscrapers, was beautiful.

  She’d started to appreciate the city in ways she never expected to: it wasn’t just a noisy, dirty bustle with too many people, or an island of culture and bubbles of exploitation. There were beautiful corners, places where groups of immigrants all seemed to clump together for solidarity, little green spaces—not just Central Park, but Washington Square, McCarren not too far from her own apartment, and other places like that. There was so much to take in, no matter where she went.

  “How are you liking it out in Brooklyn? You’re in Williamsburg, right?” Brianna nodded in response to Jennifer’s question.

  “Yeah, I lucked out on finding a spot that was reasonable,” she said.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, they’re pricing everyone out of that area,” Jennifer agreed. “I know Cassidy’s looking for something in Sunset Park because it’s still at least a little bit reasonable there.”

  “Where are you at?” Brianna still hadn’t caught the habit of just crossing at the intersection the way native New Yorkers did—she always waited for the signal, and looked twice just to be extra-sure.

  “I’m out in Bed-Stuy,” Jennifer said. “But probably going to have to find another place soon. The building’s talking about selling out, going co-op.” Brianna was still trying to wrap her mind around the issues with gentrification in the city, but she’d overheard more than one person talking about the older apartment buildings being bought up by huge companies, refurbished somewhat, and then flipped to sell units to people with more money.

  “That sucks,” Brianna said.

  “Yeah—well, not much to do about it, except move around and hope that eventually the whole system equalizes for a few years,” Jennifer said with a shrug.

  “Hey, so—I keep meaning to ask, but what’s up with Cassidy?” Brianna had definitely noticed the way the other assistant looked at her, and how catty Cassidy seemed to be just as a matter of course; but she wanted to know whether Cassidy was just a generally unpleasant person or if there was something going on in the other assistant’s life.

  “She’s into Ethan,” Jennifer said, shrugging. “I mean—he’s obviously hot, and rich, and all, but she got it into her head that he was hiring her as some kind of Secretary deal—you know that movie?” Brianna felt her cheeks warm up.

  “Yeah, I know that movie,” she said blandly.

  “Anyway, Cassidy I guess has never really met a man who didn’t want to hook up with her, so since Ethan’s mostly been ignoring her she’s getting bitchy about it.”

  “Why? I mean—Ethan’s her boss,” Brianna pointed out.

  “I guess she figured that these rich guys don’t hire gorgeous women for their personal assistants just to have a nice landscape for people,” Jennifer said with another shrug. “I figured that Ethan wanted qualified women who looked good for the reason that restaurants do it: gives an impression of power and prestige. Best of the best and all that.”

  “That’s definitely the reason most bosses do it,” Brianna agreed. “So Cassidy thought that Ethan was into her?” Jennifer rolled her eyes.

  They’d reached the restaurant then, and Brianna mulled over the information as they waited for a table. Awash was doing bustling early-lunch business, most of the white-clothed tables full and the staff darting around to make everything happen.

  Like so many of the restaurants in the city it looked to Brianna as if someone had taken over an apartment—maybe a large-ish one—and cleared it out, before putting in tables and chairs. It was a little bit bigger than the entirety of her unit in Williamsburg, so slightly cramped, but the smells coming from the kitchen were more than enough to make up for the lack of space.

  After about ten minutes, they were escorted to a table, and Brianna quickly made her choices; even if they had an hour for lunch, they would need to eat fast—they had the walk back to the office to consider. But the staff were working at enough of a clip that Brianna thought they’d at least be able to eat.

  They ordered sambusas to start, and Brianna got a combination with doro wat and yebeg alicha—chicken and lamb—and vegetables, while Jennifer got a beef dish and a chicken dish with vegetables. As they sipped spiced tea and water, Brianna felt her phone vibrate in her purse. She wasn’t expecting a message from anyone; but she took the phone out anyway. I set a meeting on your schedule for after lunch, for one, with a project manager at one of my companies. Meet me at my apartment. It was from Ethan. Brianna felt her cheeks heat up again and took a hasty sip of water to try and cover her lack of composure.

  “Apparently I have a meeting to go to after lunch,” Brianna said quickly.

  “That’s a bummer,” Jennifer said, accepting it with no signs that she doubted the story.

  “Eh, it should at least be interesting—it’s with a project manager at one of the other companies Ethan manages,” Brianna said. “But it’s going to be a pain to get across the city right after the lunch rush.”

  “Yeah that aspect always sucks,” Jennifer agreed. All three of the assistants—Brianna included—were sent on errands for Ethan Hale; if Brianna hadn’t been with Ethan, or known he was in the office the entire time that Cassidy and Jennifer went out on their own trips to take care of their own parts of the business, she might have suspected that Ethan used all three of his assistants as play-things. Of course unless Jennifer is really hiding something, there’s no reason for her to have said what she did about Cassidy.

  The thought of Cassidy turned Brianna’s stomach, but as she sampled sambusas and waited with her injera in place for her main course to arrive, she dismissed the unpleasant-but-beautiful assistant from her mind. Cassidy was just someone who had a crush on the boss and didn’t know how to handle it. She ate quickly, using the excuse of the meeting she had to get to, and parted ways with Jennifer at the entrance of the restaurant after paying; she’d already received a text message from the driver that she could meet him a few blocks from the office, and that he knew where they were going.

  It was risky, Brianna knew, to meet with Ethan in the middle of the day that way—but surely it was less risky than their trysts in his office? Besides, it wasn’t as though anyone monitored Ethan’s comings-and-goings very hard, beyond what the official story was. She waited until Jennifer had turned the corner and pulled out her phone to find an alternate route to where the car waited to take her to her billionaire boss; one that would keep her from running into any of her coworkers.

  Traffic was lighter than usual, and Brianna arrived at Ethan’s apartment in less than thirty minutes, her heart beating faster in her chest and her face warming and cooling with blushes she couldn’t contain even after a month of consistently being with him. Somehow—somehow—she felt paranoid that someone might see her, in spite of it being the mid
dle of the workday, and in spite of the fact that Ethan’s building was too far from the office for there to be anyone from the company in the area by chance.

  She walked up to the building and nodded to the doorman; he’d seen her a few times before—generally in the company of Ethan—and let her into the building without batting an eyelash. It would be interesting to know who he thinks I am in relation to Ethan, Brianna thought. She gave the man a smile and walked into the building. After visiting Ethan there a handful of times the lobby and all its splendor had more or less ceased to make a huge impression on her; all she was interested in was getting to the elevator and punching in the code to get it to take her to Ethan’s floor.

  She waited impatiently to get to Ethan’s apartment, trying not to tap her toes or fidget in the elevator as it ascended through the floors. Brianna wondered what had possessed Ethan to ask her to come over in the middle of the day like that—especially when, according to the only schedule she had for him, he was in meetings for two hours. Of course, she thought as the elevator went up the last few floors, Ethan owed her few explanations; he might have just finished up early and decided to kill the remainder of the time having fun with her—and he’d given her an airtight excuse for why she wasn’t in the office when everyone else was.

  The door was unlocked when she got to it, and Brianna knocked briefly before entering; Ethan sat on the couch, watching for her, and smiling slightly. “I got tired of rehashing the same bullshit over and over again, so I told them to get me on a conference call when they figured out what they actually wanted to discuss,” Ethan explained, as Brianna came into the living room.

  “You could have given me some warning,” she said archly. Ethan chuckled.

  “I let you finish lunch, at least,” he pointed out. “Where did you end up going?”

  “Ethiopian place on Sixth, with Jennifer,” Brianna replied. Ethan rose to his feet as Brianna stepped closer to him and met her a few feet away from the couch, his hands immediately going to her waist. She’d remembered to pop a few mints in her mouth as she was leaving the restaurant, to kill any aftertaste of berbere or other spices that might be lingering on her tongue; when Ethan kissed her she still had a moment’s worry that he might be put off by it, but his tongue probed her mouth eagerly, as if he hadn’t had a meal of his own yet—as if he were hungry for her.