Read The Billionaire's Mistaken Match ( A BWWM Romance) Online
Authors: Izabella Brooks
The Billionaire's Mistaken Match ( A BWWM Romance)
Published By Izabella Brook
s
, 2016
©
2016 Izabella Brooks
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
Sign Up for Swirl Saturdays!
Table of Contents
Paloma grabbed the plates out of the window and carried them over to table two. The lunch rush was in full swing and she was up to her knees in orders. Her boss, Jerry, was watching her like a hawk, as usual.
The man was always waiting for her to do something even remotely out of line so he could holler at her. The worst was during rushes because she had no escape. So, here she was, busting her hump trying to make sure everything Jerry saw was spot on perfect. It was exhausting, but that was her life.
Dodging the customers waiting at the counter, she made her way through the diner, being sure to smile and greet everyone she came across. Jerry had been dogging her about her attitude lately, which was utter bullshit because the only person she had an attitude with was Jerry! No matter, he was the boss and she needed the job, bills had to be paid.
She looked around quickly to see the other waitresses shoving through the crowds with no regard to who they disrupted in the process. Paloma was her wits end with this place. She deposited the plates at table two and made sure her other tables were well taken care of before moving back behind the counter into the kitchen area. She had been on since opening this morning with no break, despite seeing others come and go for cigarettes and lunches. She didn’t mind working hard, but her feet were starting to hurt and she just wanted to sit down for a minute. She leaned her head against the wall next to the refrigerator and closed her eyes. Just five minutes of peace and she could get back out there.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she heard Jerry snarl.
With a sigh, she opened her eyes and sat forward on the milk crate she was using as a seat. “I’m taking my break. I’ve been here and working hard for six hours and haven’t even stopped to use the restroom. I’m tired and my feet hurt.
Nelda has gone for at least three cigarettes, so now it’s my turn.” Jerry eyed her, the rage building inside of him. Paloma knew what his problem was. Jerry was a racist bigot. He didn’t like gays, he didn’t like women, and he didn’t like blacks. Being in two of those categories was doing Paloma no favors in this man’s eyes.
“You didn’t ask to take your break or tell anyone, you just left your station.”
“My station is clear and all my customers are taken care of. Go out there and ask any one of them.”
Jerry puffed up, and Paloma knew something bad was going to come spewing out of his ugly mouth. “That’s it. I’m suspending you. You are done today; get your things and go home. A week off, no pay. That ought to show you.” He smiled his oily grin and began to turn away from her.
Paloma sprung to her feet. She was easily six inches taller than the greasy small man and towered over him, her own anger boiling over the top, threatening to engulf her entirely. “Look here, you little weasel. You can’t suspend me for taking a break. It’s federal law to be afforded a break after six hours of work. Besides, you can’t suspend me at all, because I don’t work for your dumb ass anymore,” she spewed, tearing off her kitschy apron and chucking it at him. “I quit. I’d rather not work for a bigot like you anyway.” There was utter silence in the kitchen area as she shoved past Jerry and made her way to the front door. She could do better than this. She deserved better than this. It was time to take her life into her own hands.
One week later
Paloma stared at the bills that were piling up on her desk. They had started piling up weeks ago, but since walking out on her job they had only gotten worse. She was already a month behind on her rent, coming up on two, with no clue as to how to fix the problem. She sighed and put her head on the desk. What the hell had she been thinking? There was a knock at her door and she didn’t answer, afraid that it was her landlord, again.
“Paloma, honey, it’s me,” Kit, her best friend, said at the door. Sighing in relief, she opened the portal to allow her friend’s entrance. “How’s things, chica?” Kit was sassy and fun, just the kind of person Paloma needed in her life. She was easily a full foot shorter than Paloma, barely reaching five feet. What she lackd in height she made up for in personality, and they never went without a good time.
Kit looked around at the papers piling up on the desk. She noticed how dark it was here and deduced that Paloma was living without electricity. “No lights?”
Paloma shook her head. “I’m barely able to feed myself and keep my phone on so I can look for work. I’m so far behind, Kit.”
Kit smiled sadly up at her friend. Her light brown eyes stared into Paloma’s dark ones, seeing the sadness and defeat there. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you come live with me?”
Paloma started to protest. She knew Kit meant well, but Paloma had never been one for handouts.
“Look,” Kit interrupted, “it would really be mutually beneficial. You would have a place to live rent free while you get on your feet, and I would have some company.” She gave Paloma a radiant smile. Kit knew full well that her proposal made no sense, but saying it in this way would make Paloma feel more at ease about the whole think. “Well?”
Paloma reached forward and hugged her friend. “Thanks, Kit. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d be packing by yourself is what you would be doing. Let’s go get some boxes and get this show on the road.”
Paloma grinned, her mood already lifted. Kit lived in a different area of the city, somewhere Paloma hadn’t looked for work yet because it was simply too far away to justify the cost of the commute. Now that worry was gone. Surely something would come up.
After a full day of moving, Paloma called her landlord and informed him that she had vacated and cleaned the premises. She vowed to pay what she owed in rent but has opened up the apartment to someone who can afford it. Luckily for Paloma, her landlord was a very nice old man and thanked her for her selfless act before jotting down the address to bill her for her past due rent.
After settling Paloma in the small extra room, Kit went out for pizza and let Paloma get busy making the space her own. Paloma hung her favorite art, a piece her mother painted when Paloma was just a child. It was a street scene, but the streets of the big city began to trail off halfway through, returning to the wild.
The forest covered the other half of the painting, with people living off the land. The scene was the life of Paloma’s mother’s heritage, going back to the days when her great-grandparents were slaves in the south. The image showed the progression and success of the family, moving from those fields to the big city where they made their own futures. It was Paloma’s most prized possession.
Kit returned, and knocked softly on the bedroom door. The pizza smelled wonderful and Paloma realized how long it has been since she has eaten. In the kitchen, they both grabbed slices and Kit passed around a couple of beers out of the fridge. “To new starts and many successes,” she said, tapping her bottle to Paloma’s.
“You got that right,” Paloma said, taking a long pull on the brew. “Tomorrow, first thing, I’m scouring the papers and the streets. I’ll be working by the end of the week and paying you back for your kindness.”
Kit laughed and agreed with her friend. It was going to be a bumpy ride; she knew there was a lot of frustration in Paloma, but taking the stress of funding a home and food off her friend’s shoulders was the least she can do.
Paloma finished off her beer and polished off her third piece of pizza. “I guess I better get to bed, then. Tomorrow is the start of something big, I can feel it.” She wished Kit a good night, knowing that Kit would be up and getting ready for her own job early in the morning. Paloma hoped to leave the house the same time as Kit and put as much effort into finding a job as Kit did into working hers. She was driven to do right by her friend. As she climbed in to bed and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, she couldn’t help but smile. Things were going to go her way. She could feel it in her gut. She glanced at the painting on the wall. “Moving on up, Mama,” she whispered to it before turning out the light and pulling the blankets up to her chin.
Another week has gone by and Paloma sat at the kitchen table, rummaging through the newspaper classifieds and online job boards. Nothing. No one was hiring. She was beyond frustrated at herself. She looked around Kit’s apartment. It was neat and clean, but small.
Even though it had two bedrooms, it was never really meant to have more than one person living there. Paloma felt bad about the amount of space she was taking up and the fact that her friend was now working for both of them. Frustrated, she crumbled up the morning paper and pitched it towards the wastebasket. It bounced of the edge and fell to the floor, just missing the basket. “Story of my life,” Paloma muttered.
So far this week she walked the streets, going into every shop, store, deli, diner, and jewelry store she passed. She dropped resume after resume, applied online to at least one hundred jobs and came up empty. Most people refused to even entertain the notion of hiring, saying they were fully staffed and not looking for workers. Every day Paloma came home feeling like a whipped puppy. Bored and angry with herself, she started browsing the internet, anything to get her mind off of her current situation. The plan was to screw off for about an hour and then start making dinner so at least Kit would have something to come home to. Plus, cooking helped her relax.
After twenty minutes fooling around on social media, she came across an advertisement for a matchmaking site. On a whim, she clicked the ad, pulling up a description of the site. The claims made by the site really got her attention. They would match beautiful singles up with successful and well off men and women it said. Paloma briefly entertained the thought of having a man around to take care of her, but dismissed it before closing her laptop and getting up to make something to eat for Kit.
The house smelled wonderful when Kit entered, like a special sauce had been simmering for hours. She found Paloma in the tiny galley kitchen, hovering over the stove and keeping an eye on several pots at once. “What is that wonderful smell?” she inquired.
Paloma looked back over her shoulder and smiled. “Secret family recipe. Spaghetti.”
Kit laughed, but it really did smell amazing and her stomach growled at the scent filling her whole house.
“I didn’t have any luck today either, so I thought the least I could do was make you something good to eat to repay your for letting me stay here.”
Kit waved that off, but moved closer to the stove, eager to see what was making the amazing aroma.
“I’m really trying my hardest,” Paloma said quietly.
“I know,” Kit answered. “Give it time, it’ll all come together. Until then, I could pay you to be my personal chef.” Kit dipped her finger into the hot sauce and licked it off. She closed her eyes in ecstasy. “That is as good as it smells, maybe better.” Kit returned to the living room, offloading her bag and hanging it on the hook by the door, along with her keys and coat. “So, what are we doing this weekend?”
“Nothing, girl, I’m broke,” Paloma replied over her shoulder, still stirring the sauce.
“You can’t just mope around here. Let’s hit a bar or something, see a show. What is the point in living in this amazing big city if we never leave the apartment?” Kit’s smile was contagious and Paloma couldn’t help but smile too.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll meet some rich bachelor and sweep him off his feet, solving both our problems all in one blow.”
Kit laughed at the innuendo in Paloma’s words but shook her head at the same time. “You are not a problem. If you were, I’d be the first to tell you, you know that. And you don’t need a man to take care of you. That is such an antiquated belief.” Paloma rolled her eyes. Kit was a definite feminist, but not a combative type.
Most of the time they got along just fine, even though Paloma was more of a traditionalist. “Besides, where would you bring this rich bachelor to? Certainly can’t have him here.” Kit laughed again and sat down at the table, in front of Paloma’s computer. She lifted the top and the ad for the matchmaker was still on the screen. “What the hell is this?”
Paloma looked back, suddenly alarmed and embarrassed. “I was just wasting time earlier when I had a break. That popped up as an ad on my page and I clicked on it. You can close it down.”
“You aren’t seriously considering this are you?”
“No,” Paloma said, laughing. “I mean, not really. I briefly entertained it but then I came back to reality.” Kit lifted an eyebrow as Paloma turned back around to take the food of the stove. She loaded up two plates full of the steaming pasta and grabbed the bottle of wine she had set out to breathe. “I mean, it would be nice, but you are right, I’ve got to get me a job and take care of myself. I’m tired of being a mooch.”
“You are not a mooch. You are a friend in need and I am a friend thatwho will provide. Especially if you keep this up,” Kit replied, shoveling a forkful of food into her mouth. “Oh my god! Maybe you should open a restaurant.”
Paloma smiled. Kit didn’t know it, but that was one of Paloma’s dreams. She wanted to open a restaurant, to serve her own food to people, and to be the boss of her own company, even if it was a small one. Paloma wantd the kind of place where everyone was welcome and the customers and workers alike were treated with respect.
“Maybe someday,” she said. “Maybe someday.”
