Page 19 of Billionaire's Desire
Why the fuck does she keep popping up everywhere I go?
She is like a bad coin, really hard to get rid of.
And her timing? The worst timing in the entire universe. Of this, I am convinced.
“It’s okay. Accidents happen,” I tell the couple as I take my seat. Deep down, I wonder why I never offered the same courtesy to her.
I shrug, not liking the gnawing feeling that I fucked up, again.
“We promise, this won’t happen again,” Mrs. Wheeler says.
“Shall we proceed with our discussion?” Mr. Wheeler adds.
I nod, “Of course,” I said. “Let’s get back to business.”
And so, we continued our discussion, diving into the details of the yacht industry and potential investment opportunities. I was impressed with the knowledge and passion of the Wheelers, and I felt confident that we could make some great deals together. They are new yacht owners, but they are really invested in making the best of the purchase.
Despite the earlier mishap, the meeting ended up being productive and successful. I was really looking forward to sealing the deal with them.
The dinner went spectacularly after that.
After devouring the best chicken soup I have ever had, I walked back to my cabin feeling content and relaxed. But my high did not last long at all.
Suddenly, I started to feel a little off. My stomach was cramping and I felt a wave of nausea hit me. I tried to ignore it, but it only got worse.
I realized that I must have developed food poisoning from something I ate. I quickly ran to the bathroom and emptied my stomach, feeling a terrible pain in my gut. My head was spinning and I felt lightheaded.
This was worse than any hangover I have ever had before.
I stumbled back to my bed and lay down, trying to calm myself. But the cramps were getting worse and I was breaking out into a cold sweat. I felt like I was going to pass out.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to gather my strength. This wasn’t the way I wanted to spend the evening. I was on a yacht, supposed to be enjoying myself and closing business deals in the process. But now, I was stuck in my cabin, feeling miserable and helpless.
Fuck! Everything hurts.
I was curled up on the edge of my bed when I heard a knock on my door.
Must be the angel of death coming by to pick me up. Like an Uber, but for the dead.
The food poisoning must be making me delusional.
The knock sounds again.
I am definitely not in the mood for visitors. Can’t this person take a hint?
I try to sit up but instead slide back to my bed. Whoever is at the door can wait.
A few seconds pass before they knock again.
Damn it!
Maybe it’s the Wheelers coming by to tell me that they have looked through the contract and have then agreed to our terms.
Despite how groggy I feel, that last thought is the last push I need to lift my head off my pillow.
Struggling to sit upright, I accidentally knock over a vintage lamp that’s on the side table beside my bed.
Oh fuck!
