Under the Billionaire's Shelter - Jamie Knight Page 0,21

I came into my office.

“Of course they are. Which room?”

“Babble on 5.”

“Thank you, Mari,” I said, leaving the caramel éclairs I knew she loved on her desk.

Babble on 5 was an in-joke no one under 35 really got. Conservatives would have called it ‘Board Room 5,’ though this was as likely to get a chortle than a respectful nod from a sizeable number of the ‘lifers.’

The gang was indeed all there. Despite being nearly twenty minutes late, I got nary a side-eye as I came in and sat down, casually unbuttoning my suit jacket.

“Right,” I said, instantly taking command of the room, “where would we like to start?”

“Contestants would be the obvious answer.”

“Yes, Tom, it would. Do you want to be obvious?”

“Makes sense to me,” Tom said, his level of self-awareness being in the negative numbers.

“How are the applications?”

“Flood levels,” Maria said, scrolling through the phone always welded to her hand.

“Good, I like the be spoiled for choice,” I said, trying to get to the good side of the situation.

“We have the interns on it,” Samantha said, stopping just short of actually waving her hand.

“Do you?”

“Yes?” Samantha’s confidence mask slipping, if only a couple of inches.

“Who ordered that?”

“I-I did,” Adam said, bracing for impact.

“That’s not part of their job,” I pointed out.

“I know but -”

“You thought you would dance on the line between a legal intern and blatantly illegal exploitation.

“We never really thought about it that way,” Samantha said, trying to take the blame for both of them as she often did.

“I thought it was his idea,” I said.

“It was initially, but I went along with it. We should have asked you first.”

“Yes, you should have. Let that be a lesson, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” Adam and Samantha chorus in perfect unison.

“Take the interns off the selection process immediately and send all files to my direct email. I will handle it myself.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused again, sounding like cult members to a nearly spooky degree. It probably had something to do with them being siblings.

“How are we doing with the dating end of things? Do we have enough men for the dating section of the schedule?”

“Nearly. We just need a couple more and we’re good to go,” Maria said, as efficient as ever.

“Have they all been vetted?”

“Yes. Most of them are professionals. Doctors and lawyers primarily. All under 35.”

“Criminal record checks?”

“All clean,” Maria said, scrolling down.

That only made me feel a little better. I was all too well acquainted with how easily members of a particular social strata could get around a criminal record. Especially if they were guilty as sin. I made a mental note to be there with the camera crew on every date the winner went on just in case things went pear-shaped.

“Get on the selection process and I will get us a female contestant by the end of tomorrow,” I said re-buttoning my jacket as I stood, officially and symbolically bringing the meeting to a close.

Samantha and Adam did their job admirably, my phone buzzing with their message while I was still on the elevator back up to ten.

“Put the coffee on,” I said to Mari, hanging up my jacket on the hook by the door.

“Big project?” Mari asked, having started on the second of the eclairs.

“Oh yes.”

There were hundreds. I supposed that’s what happened when you offered both love and money with a side of hot sex. People were people, after all. I had to transfer the files from my phone to my desktop just to get a better view of the entirety. As well as to make the process a bit more efficient and quicker.

“Thank you, Mari,” I said as she silently put the mug on my desk before slipping back out.

It was like an interesting sort of treadmill. The names, faces and vital statistics rolling by created a self-imposed fugue state. It was almost meditative in a way. Partly because I tried to get into the zone before I started.

There had been some glances when I first said to relieve the team of interns and give all their work to me, and even more when I said I could get it all done in two days. I didn't really take it personally. I could understand their scepticism.

Most of them had never seen me work nor really understand my prices. The only ones who had ever actually seen it first-hand were Mari, who was quite used to it by that point, and Maria, who had walked in on me once with something important while Mari was