Page 14 of Billionaire's Desire
“Let me help you clean that up,” I offer, trying to salvage the situation.
The stranger is clearly upset, and for once in all the times we have interacted so far, he is rightfully so.
My heart beats erratically. “I can’t believe this happened,” I say, feeling more and more embarrassed by the moment. “I feel terrible.” My hand is dabbing on his lap. His pants are drenched and, distracted, I notice that I have been rubbing on a spot that is very close to his crotch.
Something sharp twists in my stomach and I am pretty sure beneath all this makeup, my face is flaming red.
“That’s enough,” he says just as Mrs. Wheeler says, “There is a restroom around here. Can you please help him get cleaned up.”
“Of course,” I nod, feeling nervous, then step aside to leave room for the man to stand up.
I have never been in a situation like this before and I don’t know what to expect. The stranger grudgingly allowed me to help him clean up, but he is still clearly angry as he follows me to the restroom.
I am hyper aware of everyone’s eyes on us as we shuffle across the room.
When we step inside the small room, he turns around and closes the door.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You don’t mean to do a lot of things, huh?” he asks as he shrugs out of his coat jacket.
I am ready to apologize or retort, but the words dry up on my tongue from the simple movement.
God, he has such defined shoulders. The shirt he has on is molded to his rippling arms and I have to swallow in appreciation.
“Look,” he interrupts my embarrassing moment. “Can we get this dried or not?”
I have to drag my gaze away from him. “We have a dryer. I can organize the laundry and have it dried, ironed, and sent to you.”
“That works. But I need a solution right now. Maybe I can get it laundered after dinner. I will go up to my cabin and get a change of clothes for now.”
I feel a twinge of guilt. “I really am sorry.”
“You should be,” he replies sternly. “This is the second time you almost cost me a meeting with investors, you know?”
I am honestly confused as I inquire, “What do you mean?”
“The taxi.”
“What taxi?”
God! This man frustrates me so damn much.
He gives me an exasperated sigh, “This deal is important to me, so just stay away from me. Okay? I cannot afford to mess this up, and I swear there is a dark cloud that follows you around giving me all your bad energy.”
I am hurt by this statement. For some reason, it reminds me that I am alone in this world. Maybe he is right. This is why I lost my family and my best friend. Maybe I am bad luck after all.
Either way, that analysis was uncalled for.
“That was uncalled for, sir,” I say, willing my tears away.
“Just stay away, okay?”
I want to say more, but the man picks up his suit jacket and walks out of the stall, leaving me dazed, hurt and confused.
I rub my eyes furiously.
I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry.
