Page 27 of Billionaire's Desire
I appreciate that she still brings levity to what could have been a morning filled with sadness.
“My shoulder is ready for you.”
She turns around to change out of her blouse which is now streaked with mascara and my tears and I walk towards the bathroom to wash my face and redo my makeup.
“You and your shoulder better hurry the fuck up.”
“I am almost done, babe. I am almost done.”
And in less than five minutes, we are both presentable enough to report for our shifts.
We walk towards the kitchen to receive our breakfast orders and deliveries.
As soon as we have loaded our carts, we head off in different directions.
She is working with the cabins on the other side of the yacht.
“Bye. See you at lunch?”
“See ya!”
Then I head towards the VIP section.
First stop, Max Cole.
As I get ready to knock on his door, it occurs to me that I am filled with nervous energy.
That and a whole lot of anticipation.
Max has been one of the biggest plot twists of this trip. We have never really talked about all the bad interactions we have had in the past. We have never addressed any of it. But he did apologize for the last terrible interaction we had.
I was beyond ready to write him off after he asked me to leave his room, but it was literally my job and I had to try a lot harder, for both of our sakes.
And when I had knocked for a long while without getting any response, panic had immediately flared through me.
Seeing him laying in his bed, all sweaty and vulnerable. His hair was jutting out in every direction. There were dark circles under his eyes. Even at this state, he was still undoubtedly the most handsome man I have ever seen.
He looked so sad and vulnerable and defeated and I had to fight my need to touch him. To wake him and reassure him that he would be okay. To run my hair through those silky strands.
But he was still my boss, kind of.
So, I decided to do the next best thing.
In a show of good faith, I decided to forget about the previous night. I bought him a Gatorade to replenish his lost electrolytes, then I got him some Advil for his stomach cramps and a bottle of water to wash it all down. It was the same thing I had gotten Hilda and it had worked like a charm, and judging by the renewed sense of life when I saw him again later in the day, then it had worked wonders for him too.
I knocked on the door.
I expect to see him in his usual breakfast getup, a bathrobe signaling that he was just getting his day started, so when he opens the door in a completely different outfit, my breath stutters.
In the morning light, his eyes look a deeper gray than I have ever seen them, and his jaw is clean shaven.
“Maggie, hey. Good morning.”
My skin is flushed at the sight of him.
I can barely string together a sensible statement, so I reply to his greeting with, “Breakfast?”
He smiles so brightly then pushes the door wider to let me in.
