Page 20 of Billionaire's Desire
Somehow, I muster the strength to half limp, half drag my body to the door, and when I open it, the sight staggers me.
It is her.
Again.
Like I said, WORST TIMING EVER.
“You, again,” I groan.
“Hi Mr. Cole,” she says, with a fake smile plastered on her face. “I heard you weren’t feeling well, so I thought I’d come and offer my help.”
How does she know my name?
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need your help,” I snapped. “Just go away.”
“Not this again,” she says, pushing her way into the cabin. “I’m here to help, whether you like it or not. I know we have had our disagreements in the past, but I am just trying to do my job.”
I try to protest, but she ignores me, pushes through the door and walks inside.
She starts bustling around the cabin, picking up the dirty linen and tidying up. I can feel the anger boiling inside me, and I’m about to tell her to leave when she turns to me and says, “You know, if you’d just let me help, you might actually feel better.”
“I am just seasick. There is nothing you can do to help. Also, I am Max to you.”
Now why in the hell did I just say that?
“Actually, Mr. Cole-” I give her a stern look. “Max,” she amends, “I have asked around and I can give you something to help settle your stomach.”
“My stomach is doing just fine.”
The thought of her seeing me like this, all sick and vulnerable and, worst of all, defenseless irks me. I do not want her to see me like this.
“I am sure I can-”
“Can you please leave?” I cut her off.
She looks taken aback by my hostility, and I can tell that she’s hurt.
I already want to take it back, to apologize for constantly being an asshole towards her.
This is childish and juvenile, and I am very disappointed in myself, but I also don’t know how to act around her.
She has such bad timing, catching me when I am at the worst of my temperament.
“Fine,” she says, her voice cold. “But don’t say I didn’t try to help.” And with that, she turns and storms out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her.
I lean against the door, feeling angry and sick at the same time. Why does she always have to come around and mess things up? I can feel the pain in my stomach starting to intensify again, and I know I need to rest. I make my way back to bed, trying to forget about my frenemy and the terrible interaction we just had.
I toss and turn the entire night but at around five a.m., I finally fall asleep.
I wake up feeling groggy and disoriented. It takes me a few moments to remember what happened—the food poisoning, the visit from the Uber driver. I sit up, trying to shake off the cobwebs, and that’s when I realize… my fever is gone.
I tentatively tap my forehead, relieved to find that it’s cool to the touch. I feel weak and a little unsteady, but the pain in my stomach has subsided. I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom, splashing some water on my face.
When I come back to my room, there are two pills on the bed side table, a glass of water and a bottle of Gatorade.
I know these are from her.
I know I fucked up last night, and she could have easily decided to ignore me, but she did not.
