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The Billionaire and His Driver CHAPTER SIX 15%
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CHAPTER SIX

After the airstairs of the Dassault Falcon 900 dropped down, Brina could see a big, burly man hurry down the stairs. He opened the back passenger door of the limousine that was waiting at the foot of the stairs as a tall blonde got off the plane, followed by a well-built, muscular man who was walking down behind her. By the way he carried himself as he buttoned his suitcoat and put on his dark sunglasses, Brina assumed him to be the boss she’d heard so much about but had never met. And the way the blonde got to the limo and then turned around and looked at him, as if she was pleading with him about something, and the way he pointed at her as he made his way down the stairs, as if he was dressing her down the way they said he loved to do, only solidified her fear. This man could fire her for little of nothing because of this day gig Mrs. Dash insisted she take. And then what? Nobody else would hire her. She would lose her apartment, which she’d worked so hard to obtain. It was a horrible thought to Brina.

But as the boss and the blonde continued to argue with each other, Brina suddenly realized that the burly man that had opened the limo door for the blonde was now motioning to her in what looked like very angry gesturing. And he was motioning for her to bring the Mercedes to the plane. She wanted to tell him that the sign said no parking on the tarmac and that was why she parked in the spaces provided, but what was she thinking? Rules didn’t apply to people like them. She hurried behind the wheel of the Bradshaw car and drove swiftly up to the airplane and parked just behind the limousine.

As soon as she arrived, the burly guy opened the front passenger door and looked annoyingly at her. “Why were you parked way back there?”

“The sign said no parking on the tarmac.”

The guy looked at her as if she was from another planet. Then he slammed the door shut and went back to the limousine.

Brina could see the blonde and the boss up close from behind the wheel of the Mercedes. Although she couldn’t see his eyes behind those sunglasses, she could tell he was a man who women might consider very attractive and with a well-built body to go with those looks. So much so that his biceps looked as if they could belong on a bodybuilder’s physique. Even through the material of his expensive-looking suit, she could tell he was solidly packed everywhere.

And the blonde, who seemed to be listening more than she was talking now, seemed to know it too. She seemed to be near tears as he lectured her. Brina also noticed how young she was, easily in her early twenties, and how much older he was: easily in his early forties. She shook her head. Why was it that so many men never wanted to grow the hell up? That girl was young enough to be his daughter. What was his problem?

But she didn’t dwell on any of that. Her main concern was making sure she did nothing nor said anything that would get on his nerves.

But then the burly guy, seemingly annoyed again, hurried back over to the Mercedes, flung open the front passenger door again, and looked angrily at her again. “What’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“That’s Mr. Bradshaw. Mr. Bradshaw is here.”

And , Brina wanted to say. But then she realized what her job actually was and understood what he meant. She quickly unbuckled her seatbelt, got out of the car, and hurried around to the back passenger side door and opened it just as the boss had finished his dressing down of the blonde and was heading for his own vehicle. The blonde got into her limo, the burly guy hurried back over and closed her door, and then the limo took off. The burly guy then made his way toward the Mercedes.

But not before Ronny Bradshaw had made his way up to back car door and stopped in his tracks when he saw Brina standing there. Because she looked so much like that girl from the fast-food joint. The one that had visited his dreams on several occasions after he met her. The one that had given him half of her biscuit. But how could it be her?

Without thinking, Ronny grabbed her chauffeur’s hat and snatched it off her head.

Brina thought it was falling off her head and she reached for it, only to realize he had snatched it off. And was staring at her.

She wanted to ask if there was a problem, but was too afraid to ask him anything. Besides looking arrogant as fuck, he looked fiercely unapproachable too. She decided to wait it out.

After staring at her for several seconds, Ronny made up his mind. It was her. It was Biscuit. Down to that shapely body and those brownish-green eyes, he remembered her. But why would she be driving him around? Wasn’t she supposed to have gotten hired by one of those non-profits she was so excited about working for? “Where’s my driver?” he asked her.

She started to talk but had to clear her throat. “He was sent home. I mean he went home sick, sir. He’s sick.”

Ronny knew better than that. “And from where did you come from?”

He made her sound like an alien. But she knew what he meant. “I’m from Housekeeping, sir. I work in Housekeeping. But Mrs. Dash, she’s the housekeeping supervisor--.”

“I know who she is.”

“Yes sir.” What an asshole, she thought. “Mrs. Dash asked me to take over your driver’s duties for the day, sir.”

“Why you?”

Why was he asking her all these questions?! Wasn’t it enough that he had a driver? Dang! “Because I was small enough to fit his outfit, sir,” she admitted.

Although outwardly Ronny’s exterior was as gruff as it had been when he first walked up to her, inwardly he was smiling. He remembered her honesty too. But it still smacked of suspiciousness. A girl he’d only met briefly, who shared her biscuit with him, and then took off across the street after the rain, who still on occasion haunted his dreams, was now working in his home? For how long, he wondered. And how did an ex-con like her get to be working in his household? He didn’t believe in serendipity in any way, shape, or form. But here it was? Right smack in front of him?

But he didn’t question it. At least not then and there. He got in his car, she closed the door and got behind the wheel as Tex, his bodyguard and the man Brina only knew as Burly Guy, got in on the front passenger seat.

“Home, sir?” Brina asked, looking at Ronny through the rearview mirror.

“No,” Tex said to her. “He’s going to his country club.” Tex knew the boss had a breakfast meeting at the club, but that wasn’t her business.

“Yes, sir,” Brina said. But to her dismay, she needed more. “Where is this club exactly?”

Tex rolled his eyes, which only made her feel worse. Mr. Bradshaw, she noticed through the mirror, just stared at her as if he found her disdainful too. Then Tex finally told her to just drive, he’d show her the way.

She drove. But if that first encounter was any indication, she was certain her days in Mr. Bradshaw’s employ were extremely limited. Which was a terrifying thought for her to digest. The good news: the driving gig was just for one day.

Or so she thought.

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