Oops! My Billionaire Boss Fell for Five Versions of Me! Chapter 10

Oops! My Billionaire Boss Fell for Five Versions of Me! Chapter 10

After I agreed to be Nathaniel’s “girlfriend,” my schedule got even more packed.

During the day, I was his five assistants. I handled his documents and took his meeting notes.

Lately, though, something was off. Nathaniel had stopped giving me assignments. And every time I

opened my mouth, his ears went red.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Something wasn’t adding up.

I was his girlfriend as Harper. So why had he stopped giving work to Chloe, Autumn, and Winter

too?

Whatever. Their loss was my gain. More free time meant I could clock back in at the food stands.

After work, I was back at the lake with my cart.

Right on schedule, Nathaniel showed up. Sweat running down his temples, he slowed to a stop in

front of my stand.

“What’s good today?”

“The upgraded one.”

Dead serious.

“Double the Redwood sesame, twice the Oakhaven lettuce, and the eggs… the hens worked

overtime for these. Hand-gathered at dawn.”

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes like he was reviewing a pitch deck. “I’ll take two.”

Sucker.

I nearly choked trying not to laugh.

The weather had turned warm. Between the grill’s heat and the sun, my shirt was soaked down my back and sweat was rolling down my forehead.

Nathaniel’s gaze lingered on me. His expression shifted.

Right. I wasn’t exactly up to health code standards out here. I winced, hoping he wouldn’t take it

personally.

“I’ll make you a fresh one.”

“No need.” He grabbed it and bit right in.

“Do you actually like doing this?”

“Huh?” I was wrestling with a stubborn tortilla.

“It’s way too hot for you to be…” He stopped himself. “Never mind. If you enjoy it.”

He looked up. “This burrito is incredible, by the way. You could charge three thousand dollars.

Easily.”

“What?” I nearly choked on my own spit.

Three thousand dollars?! Was he out of his mind?

Even I had limits. Three thousand dollars was highway robbery. There was hustling. And then there

was fraud.

The next day, I wheeled my cart to the usual spot. Someone had taped a makeshift price tag to the bench where I usually parked: $3,000.

Beside it, a thick, sealed envelope pinned down a handwritten note. [Making up for yesterday’s bill.]

I stared at the envelope.

…this man was unbelievably, magnificently stupid.

Oh my god. I’d never been more motivated in my life.

Leaving this man’s money on the table would be a crime against capitalism. And nobody else was getting to him first.