The homeless girl and the CEO

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Chapter Eight

Leah's POV

Even though Mr. Branson's grandson stayed away from the apartment, I still felt uncomfortable.

His absence meant that he didn't want to be there because I was there, imposing on him and he is correct.

He left his home because of me and as much as I want to remain here, with someone I know, I will have to leave for Jordan Branson's sake.

Taking up my handbag and file with my resume and credentials, I secured the guest bedroom as neatly as I got it and walked downstairs, stopping once to glance at myself in the long mirror to the end of the stairs, smoothening my kaki knee length skirt and a matching jacket with a burgandy shirt tucked neatly inside my skirt and a black work shoe to match the only handbag, that I brought along.

Mrs. Sanchez was already dishing out breakfast since I convince Mr. Branton to allow me to travel to the office on my first day because he didn't seem to know his grandson is not here.

Lifting her eyes, Mrs. Sanchez smiled in appreciation when she saw me, "you look beautiful," she says and I blushed shyly.

I pulled my long dark blond hair right back and tied it into a high ponytail, using only eyeliner, mascara an lipgloss as my only makeup, which is the way I dress at my dad's company.

"Thank you," lowering my eyes, I whispered.

"Come and have something to eat in case you're to shy to ask someone where to get lunch," Mrs. Sanchez says because she knows that I am totally lost in the city, so she's going to drop me off at the bus stop and with my new phone I will call and inform when I am leaving.

"I feel like a new kid out to kindergarden," I laughed at myself.

Hustling me out the door, "come, you can't miss your bus," like a mother hen, Mrs. Sanchez hovers around me.

I'm going to miss her when I leave which is hopefully before the weekend so that Jordan Branson can come home.

"Take this," Mrs. Sanchez shoves a bag into my hand, "it's a slice of cake and a sandwich, in case you decide to eat at your desk," she says kindly.

Reaching out, I hugged her. "Thank you so every much and I hope I don't see your young boss" I chuckle because my day would definitely be better if I am not in his way!

After exiting the bus, I found the headquarters of The Branson Group very easily from the directions Mrs. Sanchez gave me, with fifteen minutes to spare.

Sighing in relief, I greeted the security at the entrance who directed me to the reception area for more information.

"Good morning," smiling nervously, I greeted the receptionist.

Lifting her eyes from the page in front of her, "good morning," she responded to my greeting, politely.

"My name is Leah Morrison, I have a job appointment with Mr. Branson," I explain my purpose for being here, nervously.

"We have three Mr. Branson in the building," she responds, "which one would that be?" The receptionist asks.

Frowning, "Uh the senior one," I answered, mentally slapping myself for not getting his first name.

"Okay, you can have a seat over there," she points to the visitors section. "I call his office," she says, already dismissing me.

"Uh, okay, thank you," I whispered turning away and bumped into the solid wall, that cause me stumble backwards. I would have fallen if the desk wasn't there to break my fall.

"Uh, sorry," I mumble, lifting my eyes to meet the younger Mr. Branson, Mr. Jordan Branson!

Can my day get any worse?

Jordan stared down at me, his dark gray eyes cold and hard as his chest and by the way he glares impatiently at me, his heart.

Ignoring me, he turns to the receptionist, "morning Rosie sweetheart," Jordan greets the receptionist while I made my way to the seating area to wait until I am called.

After checking my time I realize I've been waiting here for almost two hours.

I started to indulge my mind to take a walk down pity avenue before deciding to speak to the receptionist again.

"Hi, excuse me," I greeted her for the second time today. "Have you heard anything from Mr. Branson?" I asked politely, although I felt like screaming and running back home, only it's not my home, it's Jordan Branson's home.

"No, I haven't heard from Mr. Branson's office," the receptionist name Rosie, informed me and dismisses me by bending her head once again.

Staring down at her desk, I saw a flyer advertising a one bedroom garage apartment for rent, neatly taped to the corner of her desk.

"Excuse me," I interrupted her again and I know that I've pissed her off now.

"Did you hear the phone ring?" She asks and I shook my head stupidly.

"Ah.. actually, I wondered if this apartment is still available and how far it is from here?" I asked politely, despite her abruptness, I still need an apartment and if I don't get this job, I am qualify to get another job somewhere else.

Staring at me as if it's the first time she's actually looking at me and for some reason I see myself in her eyes, the poor, pathetic version of myself.

"Yes it is and it's a twenty minute drive to this building, if you get the job," the receptionist added.

Smiling brightly even though I felt tears shimmering on my lashes.

"I'll take it," I said quickly, hoping I would have to give her paperwork which is something I don't have.

"Okay," she agrees slowly. "It isn't furnish, you'll need the full works and I need two months rent upfront." She says.


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