The Billionaire's BBW Secret (3 page)

“Photo shoot?” Denny asked,
crossing her arms over her chest.  What was going on here?

“Oh yes, I decided this year that I
should put out a calendar.  For charity, of course.”

Denny couldn't help but wonder at
the timing of everything.  She couldn't help but wonder if she was here as some
sort of joke on herself.  It was some prank against fat girls, it had to be,
and she wasn't going to stand for it.  She's endured this kind of teasing her
entire life, and she wasn't going to put up with it through adulthood, or
through this job.

As her new boss approached her, she
only stared at him coldly.

“Is something the matter, my dear?”
he asked as he abruptly turned away, approaching an elaborately trimmed
mahogany sideboard and pouring himself a drink of a rich amber liquid. 
“Brandy?” he offered.

“At eight in the morning?” Denny
retorted.

“Of course.  I need a little fuel
in my tank to get me going.”  He downed the drink easily, then laughed.  “I
suppose you shouldn't be drinking.  I have a company car set up for you, and I
need you to do some errands for me.”

So this wasn't a prank, or a joke. 
She really did have the job.  With that knowledge, Denny's anger deflated, and
her arms dropped to her sides.  “What do you need me to do?” she asked.

“Sir,” he said.

“What?”

“You'll address me as 'sir',” he
said lightly, though his expression was anything but light.  His square,
handsome features looked a bit dark, a bit intimidating.  Denny wondered
briefly if it was just the lighting, but no.  He really did look angry.

“What do you need me to do, 'sir'?”
she repeated, emphasizing the added word.  She wasn't going play around with
him.  She might need a job, but that didn't mean she was going to let herself
be pushed around.

Larson stalked over to his huge
desk and picked up a piece of paper.  He crumpled it up and tossed it at her. 
Denny deftly caught it – thankfully, she'd been a star player on her softball
team in college – and smoothed the paper out again, reading through the list
scrawled on there.

She needed to get her personal
information to Lola first, including her phone number so Larson wouldn't have
to waste time writing out these stupid lists anymore.  She squinted her eyes as
she read that first item.  He even wrote the part about stupid lists.

She had to pick up his dry
cleaning, then his lunch, and then accompany him to this photo shoot, and then
run some papers over to a neighboring office, and then set up a meeting with
his lawyer... her eyes began to glaze over as she glanced through each item. 
This was a lot for one person to do in one day.  She wasn't sure she was up to
this.

And Larson.  He seemed totally
different, now that she was his employee.  No longer charming and charismatic,
he was cold and calculating, seemingly not caring about anything but himself. 
She didn't think that she was going to like him very much.

“I don't believe we've discussed
salary, yet,” he said, completely unaware of Denny's internal dialogue.

“No, sir.”

“What does one need to live in New
York these days?  I don't even know.  Does a hundred thousand a year sound
appropriate?”

Denny blanched yet again.  That
much?  She hadn't even expected half that much.  “Y-yes, sir,” she said, unable
to keep the stammer out of her quavering voice.

He didn't seem to notice, though. 
“Good.  Go speak to Lola, and meet me for the photo shoot by noon.  Remember my
lunch,” he added sharply as Denny turned to make her way out of his office.

So this was going to be her first
day.

*****

After her paperwork was finished
with the thin, sour-faced blonde, she immediately dived into her task list. 
The dry cleaning was waiting in a company car cleared for her use, so she
started with that, dashing down to the cleaners that Larson preferred and
making it in record time.  As she checked his garments in – three suits, one
charcoal, one black, on navy blue – she got a text message from him with more
tasks.  There was a packet of legal documents that had to be hand-delivered to
his lawyer, and he apparently had promised lunch to the photo shoot models.

He didn't detail what sort of
lunch, so Denny shot back a text asking what they wanted.

As she made her way back to the
office, fighting the terrible as always New York traffic, her phone buzzed with
a reply.  She scowled and whipped it out, keeping half an eye on the road as
she quickly read the message.

“Doesn't matter.  Just bring enough
for 20-30 people.”

That was about lunch, she assumed. 
Pizza it was, then.  That was the only thing she could think to get on such
short notice.  It was already ten in the morning and she had to get these
papers delivered before lunch.

She pulled the car into a reserved
spot in the tiny parking area at the front of the building, and quickly hefted
herself out of the low-slung thing.  It was a BMW, which were nice enough cars
but she just didn't care for them.  The drivers tended to have a bad
reputation.  But she didn't have any room to complain.  It was first time she'd
driven anything at all in months.

She sighed and felt a small pang of
regret as she made her way towards the office building.  Her old car had been a
trusty old Explorer, one that had taken her through college, and though it was
old, she had a special connection to that beast.  She'd actually cried when she
sold the thing, but it just didn't make any sense to keep it.  Not in New
York.  It was going to cost more than it was worth, literally.  A rented
parking space would cost more than her apartment.  So she'd let it go, along
with so much of her past life.

Shaking her head, clearing those
loose thoughts from her mind, she continued to make her way into the office.

Larson had said the packet was
available at the receptionist's desk on the first floor, so as she briskly
walked in that direction she pulled out her phone and plugged in the lawyer's
address.  She wanted to groan when she saw where it was.  All the way on the
other side of Manhattan.  Of course.  Larson was really putting her to the test
today.

She made it to the receptionist,
and leaned against the counter, feeling slightly out of breath.  Apparently
this job was also going to give her a good workout.

“Larson said there was a packet
here for me to deliver,” she said. 

The woman, a different one from the
first day she'd been here, stared at her with a look of pure disdain.  “Excuse
me?”

Denny scowled.  She was not in the
mood to be looked down upon just because she was a little heftier than everyone
else, so she mustered up all the authority she could, looked at the woman with
an equal look of disdain, and said more slowly, “Larson said there was a packet
for me to deliver to his lawyer.”

The other woman wrinkled her nose,
and shuffled a few papers on her desk.  “It doesn't seem to be here,” she said
in a snippy tone.

Denny was taken aback for just a
few moments, and that was all the receptionist needed.  “Don't be so useless. 
Go up to his office and find it yourself.”

Denny felt frozen on the spot, but
she quickly thawed as she felt a seething rage rise within her.  She couldn't
think of a good comeback though.  She'd never been good at witty retorts, so
she only wheeled around and stalked towards the elevator.  She was only
thanking that damned woman couldn't see her flushing, beet red face.

She was mortified.

Five long minutes later, minutes
Denny didn't have, she was rushing into Larson's office.

“The packet,” she said to Lola.

“What?” Lola said sharply, looking
up in surprise at Denny's sudden appearance.  “I gave that to Brandy
downstairs, and I told Larson as much, and to relay that information to you. 
Did he not?”

“He did, but-”

“Are you thick?” Lola said
bitingly.  “I certainly don't have it.  Go get it from Brandy.”

Denny's flushed began to rise
again, and she felt a pained shiver rush through her body as she exited the
office, shamefacedly making her way back to the receptionist.  She just barely
heard Lola mutter as she exited the room.

“Why did he hire that imbecilic
rhinoceros, I'll never know...”

She shut the door before she could
hear any more insults.

Tears began to well in her eyes. 
It wasn't her fault.  That bitch of a receptionist said she didn't have the
packet, and of course Denny had listened to her.

She tried to collect herself in the
elevator, wiping away her moist eyes and straightening her blazer and skirt,
trying to look more put together than she was.  Trying to look thinner than she
was.  Why did Larson hire her?  He obviously disliked her as much as the other
shrews in this building.

The elevator dinged, and the doors
opened.  First floor again.  Taking a deep breath, hoping it would instill some
confidence in her, Denny made for reception again.

“Oh, I found it,” Brandy smirked as
soon as she saw Denny, waving a manila folder in her face.  Denny nearly
growled as she snatched it out of the girl's hands.  She wished she could wipe
that smirk off her face as well, but such an act might land her in jail.

“A thanks would be nice!” Brandy
called after her as Denny huffed away.  She didn't grace that impudent remark
with a response.  She was in a hurry after all.

On her way to the BMW, she pulled
up a list of pizza joints between the office building and the lawyer.  There
were a lot to choose from, so she went with the one of the ones with a better
reputation.  As she opened the door and threw the packet in the passenger's
seat, and promptly placed an order for half a dozen large pizzas and a few
liters of soda.

“That should be enough to satisfy a
hundred models,” she grumbled as she wedged her considerable curves behind the
steering wheel.  That was another reason she missed the Explorer.  There was
plenty of room behind the driver's seat in that car.  This one, not so much.

But she worked with what she had,
so she now pulled the car out into the busy traffic and made her way north,
almost to the tip of Manhattan.

It took far longer than she wanted
it to, but an hour later, she was on her way to the photo studio with six
piping hot pizzas in the passenger seat.  He stomach grumbled the entire way;
Denny had been too nervous to eat any breakfast, so she hadn't eaten anything
at all yet today.  Right now, she felt like she could eat a horse.

A few slices of pizza would do as
well.  Perhaps there would be enough for her as well.

It was just after noon when she
finally found the studio.  She thought she'd made plenty of time to get there
and locate the place, but it was in a strange location, hidden and tucked away
behind a massive warehouse, and she'd had far more trouble finding it than she
thought she would have.

The sky was an overcast, steel gray
when she stepped out of the car and rain began to fall in fat drops while she
manhandled the pizzas and soda out of the other side of the BMW.  With a full
load, she made her way up the concrete steps and through the doors of the
well-worn steel and glass building.

Larson was waiting for her in the
lobby, looking thoroughly incensed.

“Where have you been?  You were
supposed to be here at a quarter to!” he said sharply.  “And what the hell did
you bring?”

Denny flushed.  She was certain he
said noon.  “Pizza, sir,” she said, not able to add what she thought about the
time.

“Pizza? 
Pizza?
” he fumed,
snatching a box out of her hands and lifting the lid.  The aroma of fresh dough
and tangy tomato sauce hit Denny full in the face, causing her stomach to do a
back flip.  “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, slamming the lid down and shoving the
box back in her arms.  “I have models here.  Do you really think they'll eat
that?”

Denny's flush grew deeper and
traveled down her neck.  “I'm sorry sir, but you didn't-”

“I didn't, I didn't,” he said, his
lips curling upwards in a sneer.  “It's your job to do the footwork.  What am I
paying you for?  So I can baby-sit you?  It's not rocket science.  Models like
healthy fare, not greasy fast food!”  He stormed around the expansive lobby of
the building, his dress shoes clacking against the granite floor.  “Jesus.”

“I could get something else,” Denny
offered, but Larson waved her off.

“Don't bother.  You've done enough
damage.”  He turned his head and shouted.  “Carlo!”

“Yes sir!” a distant voice called,
and a young, slight Hispanic man, barely more than a boy, popped out from
behind one of the expansive white walls.

“Here.”  Larson grabbed all the
boxes from Denny now and hefted them into the young man's hands.  “Take these
back.  If they complain, tell them to fuck off.”

“Yes, sir!” Carlo said brightly,
gazing at Larson with pure adoration before trotting off with his load.

“Disappointed.  Very disappointed,”
Larson muttered, pacing back and forth. 

Denny wasn't certain whether she
was supposed to hear what he was saying.  “Sorry, sir?” she ventured, her voice
quiet and wavering.

“This is just completely
unacceptable.”  He pulled out his phone and began to jab his thumbs at it,
apparently composing an e-mail.  Most likely to Lola.  Probably to arrange her
firing.  Denny felt despondent, but she could only stand there as Larson paced
and jabbed.

Before long, he finished, and her
phone suddenly buzzed.  “Sir?” she said expectantly.

“Read it,” he said shortly, then
turned a heel and made his way back.  To the photo shoot, she presumed.

She whipped out her phone as soon
as he disappeared, and was slightly stunned to see another list of things to be
accomplished before the end of the day.  Quite a long list, in fact, with items
ranging from picking up his dry cleaning to purchasing gifts for assorted
nieces and nephews for Christmas.