The Billionaire's Assistant (Contemporary BWWM Interracial Romance) (The Billionaire's Proposition Book 1) by Rose Francis Read Free Book Online Page B

unambitious, but she never quite had the luxury of dreaming beyond the next minute.
    For the most part, her goals had always been simple: get a job, find a place to live both she and Jenna were fairly happy with, get a better job, convince Jenna not to sell her soul, find her sister…
    But surely there was an old dream she could pull out from somewhere?
    To her dismay, she couldn’t find one.
    “Please don’t think any less of me, Mr. Davenport…”
    “I told you to call me Kevin.”
    “If you don’t mind, the formal address is more comfortable for me.”
    He nodded his agreement and waited for her to continue.
    “My goals have always been pretty basic: keep a roof over my head. Food in my stomach. Stay alive. I just want to keep myself afloat.”
    “Don’t tell me you don’t want anything, Naomi.”
    “It’s not that. It’s just that my deepest needs are all kind of interpersonal. Relationships are most important to me, I guess, and it’s because of the way I grew up. I never had parents or anything—some foster parents, sure, but I’ve never had any constants my whole life. My roommate, Jenna, is the closest thing. So I’d like to maintain that friendship, if I can, for example. That’s one of my goals.”
    Was it really? Hadn’t she sort of written Jenna off already?
    “And I want to find my sister. She and I got separated as kids, and I’d like to reconnect with her.”
    When she looked at him, she saw the remnants of compassion, then watched it slowly turn into skepticism.
    “So you’re saying you don’t want anything more material out of life? No fantasy to fulfill?”
    “Look, I know there are all sorts of talented people born under various conditions, and how you begin doesn’t necessarily determine how you’ll end up. Right now, one of the world’s greatest pop stars of the future is probably being born in a slum somewhere. But I’m not a painter, can’t sing to save my life, and I certainly don’t have any inclination for sports…”
    “It’s not always about talent, Naomi—some of the most talented folks in any of those fields you mentioned are not nearly as successful as their less talented, but more ambitious counterparts.”
    “I know that, and I’m not saying being born talentless means I’m doomed to a boring, unambitious life. I know it’s usually the most driven ones who are left standing, regardless of how little talent they might have for the thing they’re actually pursuing. But even that relentless drive, that…gumption is a sort of talent. I’d argue that it’s something people are born with, even if some only get it activated later in life after external events force them to. But there’s a reason so many people are happy living simply; we all might have one—or even a few—things we can do pretty well, but most people aren’t spectacularly talented one way or the other, and generally, you don’t need to be to get by. And that’s what most people are okay with—just getting by. As lame as it sounds, that’s all I’m trying to do: get by. I’ve pretty much only had me to look out for me, Mr. Davenport, and if I don’t do it, no one else will. Therefore, I’m not striving for anything but to survive.”
    He shook his head.
    “I don’t believe you, Naomi; I don’t believe that’s all you want at all.”
    What the hell was he getting at? And who did he think he was to tell her who she was or what she did or didn’t want?
    “I believe you’re just afraid to want more because you don’t think you’ll actually get it. You don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment. And boy, you must have had plenty to bring you to this point—to the point where you can no longer even dare to hope.”
    She almost stormed from the table right then, but remembered her rudeness earlier and didn’t want to push her luck.
    “I know it’s probably hard to imagine, but I prefer to live simply: little drama, daily routine, predictability.”
    Finally, she