The Tech Billionaire's Assistant

“Mr. Kentworth!” Adelaide exclaimed, brushing Octavia out of the way as soon as he spoke. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t hear you come in.”

Raemon Kentworth barely glanced in Adelaide’s direction to acknowledge that she had spoken. His dark, piercing eyes were still fixed on Octavia.

If Adelaide felt snubbed by him ignoring her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she eagerly offered, “May I carry your briefcase, sir?”

“No, I’m perfectly able to do so myself,” he answered curtly.

Adelaide’s face grew pink. “Of course, sir. I just thought…should I…maybe bring you your coffee? The usual?”

Mr. Kentworth waved a careless hand, and Adelaide scurried off with a new purpose in life.

Octavia and Mr. Raemon Kentworth were left alone.

Mr. Kentworth looked her up and down.

“Are you not capable of professional presentation?” he said.

Octavia looked down at her outfit. “Office wear makes me uncomfortable. How is anyone supposed to be productive if they feel like they’re dressed in a sheet of folded paper?”

“I manage well enough,” Raemon Kentworth answered dryly.

Octavia looked up at him. “Oh. I guess so. Well, then…I guess my answer is no, I’m…I’m not capable of dressing professionally.”

Raemon Kentworth raised an eyebrow but did not respond. He strode across the room to the double doors at the end of the room.

With the tap of a button on the small touchscreen panel set into the wall beside the doors, the two doors silently slid open.

“Follow me,” he told Octavia.

Octavia stared in wonder at his office, which almost seemed like an entire house by itself.

The main area had a high ceiling and gigantic paintings on all the walls—bright, angry brushstrokes that punctuated the white and gray surrounding décor with color.

A set of gray couches and chairs was nearest the door, and a large dark gray desk sat at the end of the room, framed by the clear glass walls behind it, which overlooked the city.

Peeking to her left, Octavia could see an opening to a large kitchenette and bar, to her right, a space filled with some exercise equipment and a large walk-in closet.

“Damn, you could practically live here,” she said aloud.

Raemon Kentworth walked to his desk and laid his briefcase on it, stopping to shrug off his suit jacket and drape it over the large chair centered at his desk.

“An astute observation, assistant,” he said.

“Oh, you can just call me Octavia.”

“There’s no need. To me, you are only my assistant and nothing more.”

Octavia wrinkled her nose. “But I still have a name.”

“That is of no importance to me.”

Octavia thought this over for a minute, then shrugged. “Whatever you like, I guess. Sir. Mr. Kentworth…Sir.”

He looked up and coldly said, “Address me as Mr. Kentworth.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘boss’? After all, if I’m just ‘assistant,’ then you would be—”

Mr. Kentworth abruptly raised a hand, silencing Octavia.

“Let me make this clear to you, assistant. I speak, and you listen. You do not talk. You do not offer suggestions. You do not ask questions. You simply do as I say.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at Octavia. “Understood?”

Octavia was quiet.

“I said, ‘Understood?’” Raemon Kentworth repeated harshly.

“Yes!” Octavia blurted out. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted a response! You said I only listen and do as you say…you never said anything about responding.

“So, am I supposed to respond when you ask questions? Or…do I have to get permission to respond first?”

Raemon Kentworth stared at his new assistant, a blank but hardened expression on his face.

He said nothing for the next few seconds, then suddenly leaned back in his chair and gestured to one of the seats on the other side of his desk.

“Sit down,” he commanded.

Octavia sat.

“Here’s what will be expected of you,” he said brusquely, swiveling his chair so that he was angled toward the great window behind him.

“You’ll take detailed notes of everything that goes on in the meetings I attend. You will compile those notes and deliver summaries of those meetings to me at the end of each day.

“I have designers across the globe sending me drawings and code for our new products each day. You will also compile these, organize them, and review them—you will only relay the most pertinent to me.

“As for your tasks for today…”

He began rattling off a list of things he wanted Octavia to do— files she was supposed to sort, schematics she had to search through and compile into a report for him, and much, much more.

Octavia fumbled to open the laptop in her hands and searched the desktop icons frantically for whatever program she was supposed to be looking for. Already, she had missed half of what he said.

She fumbled with the laptop touchpad, opening up a note to type down the remainder of Mr. Kentworth’s instructions.

Just as she had got the application open, Mr. Kentworth swiveled his chair back around.

“Got it?”

“Uhhh…,” Octavia responded, looking at the empty note on her laptop.

“Good,” Mr. Kentworth said, oblivious to her reply.

“Have all those schematics in a file and sent to me at once. I’m leaving for a meeting in an hour. After that, I have a plant inspection. You best be ready to leave by then—I will not be kept waiting.”

By the finality in his tone, Octavia knew the conversation was over. She considered asking Mr. Kentworth to repeat himself but quickly discarded that idea.

Instead, she got up and walked out of his office, leaving him staring at the dual computer monitors on his desk as if she had already left the room.

She could tell working there would be one hell of an experience.