Free Breathe: A Billionaire Romance, Part 1 by Jenn Marlow Page B

himself, and it was a positive one.
    When I first applied for the job, I was captivated by him. Impressed to the very core, and it took a lot to impress me. He was the quintessential success story. And I had wondered upon my preparation for the interview if he still held characteristics from his young brilliant self. I didn’t get a good indication until after getting to know him, but it didn’t take long though. After a couple of weeks, I knew that the old him was very much gone. There was no childlike wonderment left behind, and there was no tiny-inventor left in him, not anymore.
    And I was no longer captivated by him. Sure, I was impressed with what he had done. However, I was far from captivated.
    But I was the only one. Everyone else was still very much captivated. The public loved him—but they didn't know him. Not like I did.
    Hell, I had only been in the game for a couple of months, and I felt like I knew him almost better than anyone.
    He didn’t have any friends; his family wasn’t readily in his life as much as you’d think. In truth, I was probably the closest person in his life, and to me, that was just incredibly sad.
    I walked back through the kitchen just to see the sandwich he had just made completely untouched.
    “I thought you were going to eat?” I called out, not sure where he had gone off to. I was sure my voice would carry though.
    “I’m not hungry...,” he trailed, coming up behind me. “Can’t seem to even force food down nowadays.”
    “But you made the sandwich.” I couldn’t fathom someone making a sandwich and not eating it. Not in my family. That would never happen
    “You do look a little pale,” I said, noting his appearance. “Are you feeling OK?”
    He was ghost white with a small hue of yellow, and his eyes looked tired, restless even, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
    I walked up to him, ready to feel his head to test for a fever. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to be his nurse, too. I was everything else for him, after all. But just as I outstretched my hand, he pulled away from me—almost angrily.
    “I’m fine,” he grumbled, grabbing the sandwich and tossing it into the trash. “Thanks, by the way, for pointing out my flaws.”
    I could tell that the last bit was meant to be humorous, but there was something about the way he said it that made me think that perhaps it wasn’t completely humorous.
    “Do you spray tan?” I asked, not really sure why he looked so orangey-yellowish.
    “No.” His response was stern, and I knew better than to tell him why I had asked. I knew that he wasn’t in the mood; and I knew by the way he leaned against the countertop that he really wasn’t feeling very well.
    And without any further conversation, he walked away.
    I sighed and traipsed back to the office, knowing that I had to get back to work. It didn’t take long though—just a few location changes between office and kitchen—until I finished the last bit of work that I had and he was standing behind me with a look that I rarely saw...a look of approval.
    “I guess you can go home. I don’t really have much else for you to do.” I was shocked. My eyes widened, the expression likely showing through blatantly. It was early. He never let me go that early.
    I wasn’t unhappy though. I hurriedly grabbed up my strewn reports and tossed them into their respective folders and then placed all of those, almost messily, into my brief case.
    “Don’t forget your tablet,” he said in a whisper, as he gestured towards the bar just before turning on his heel. I watched him, blankly, as he walked out of the dining area, and secretly waited for him to turn around and tell me he was kidding, but when he continued to walk and turn the corner, I knew he was being for real. I knew that he wasn’t going to take it back.
    I nodded to myself, just before grabbing my brief case and slowly lifting myself out of my seat. I walked just as slowly to the tablet, still giving him plenty of