All That He Demands (The Billionaire's Seduction Part 3) by Olivia Thorne Page B

they were fake, her surgeon had done an incredibly good job at disguising it.
    “Um… Lily Ross,” I said shyly. I felt like a little girl, and she was a va-va-voom Woman.
    I was glad Connor wasn’t here to see her.
    She was holding a champagne glass in the air, and she cocked her head slightly to the side as she looked me up and down. “And what do you do?”
    “I’m a… a secretary.”
    “Oh.”
    Her voice was full of polite disdain. Besides being threatened by her, I started to actively dislike her.
    “Why, what do you do?” I asked, more out of social habit than anything else.
    One hand fluttered to her cleavage, and she looked soooo happy I’d asked. “I’m an award-winning photographer, but I just co-wrote a screenplay with a good friend of mine who writes for TV. His agent at CAA is taking it out next weekend. He thinks it could go for seven figures. It’s an a-maaaaazing romantic thriller, perfect for somebody like Reese Witherspoon or Natalie Portman. He says there might even be a bidding war. I’ve already started on my next one – what I really want to do is direct. Kathryn Bigelow was such an inspiration when she won for The Hurt Locker, don’t you think?”
    “Uh huh,” I said, and hated her – her and her big boobs, thin arms, movie-star face, weirdo lingo, and big-whoop screenplay – a little bit more.
    “Whose secretary are you?”
    “Nobody you’d know.”
    She smiled smugly. “Try me.”
    Okaaaaay…
    “Klaus Zimmerman.”
    Her forehead puckered the tiniest bit. “Zimmerman, Zimmerman… is he an independent producer, or is he at a studio?”
    “He’s in executive comp at Exerton Consulting.”
    “Oh.” The polite dropped out, leaving just the disdain. “You’re not even in the industry.”
    The Industry. Like there was only one.
    “No, I’m not.”
    “Well… I’m sure it’s very interesting.” Her eyes drifted away from my face, settled on something or someone else, and she floated past me. “Nice meeting you.”
    I didn’t say anything to that, because if I had, it might have come out as Yeah, right, bitch.
    And at this party, she was a nobody. ‘Award-winning photographer’? What did that mean, she’d won third prize in a community college photo fair?
    Ooooh , she was a screen writer. Throw a stick in Hollywood, you’ll hit ten of them. And they’ll all ask if you’re a producer’s or movie star’s assistant, and can you hook them up?
    Stop it, Lily.
    I hugged my arms around me and scolded myself in my head. I only hated her because she made me feel small, and unattractive by comparison, and like a loser with nothing going on in my life.
    If she’s a Nobody… then what does that make YOU?
    A comet, out in space, cold and alone, not belonging anywhere.
    And then the sun came back out.
    I felt his hand, warm on my shoulder, before I heard his voice. “Hey, my little escape pod.”
    I looked around at him and gave him a smile, not just of happiness, but of relief.
    “Almost got stuck in fairyland?”
    “They would not shut up about this producer who had a deal wherever, or that studio guy they could introduce me to,” he groaned. Then he took a closer look at me. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine. I just…”
    I looked around the room.
    “…I don’t really fit in here.”
    Connor smiled. “Neither do I.”
    “Oh my GOD, you so fit in here.”
    He narrowed his eyes at me. “You saying I’m a money-obsessed, shallow, opportunistic narcissist who’s only interested in what he can get out of other people?”
    I knew it was a joke, and tried to play along.
    “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
    It didn’t quite come out as funny as I wanted, so I just tried honesty instead. “I just meant they’re the ‘Beautiful People.’ That’s how you fit in.”
    He moved in close and put his arms around my waist – in full view of everyone in the room.
    My heart beat faster.
    “Well, you’re beautiful, so you should fit right in, too,”