Billionaire’s Surrogate

Chapter two

Bella

It's funny how it's just Monday and I'm already very exhausted. I usually work fewer shifts during the weekend, so I used that opportunity to unwind, and by unwind, I mean visiting my family. Spending the last two days eating homemade food and sharing laughs with my mother and sister helped me regain my sanity after what happened. I tried not to think about it, especially since it was Monday again and he could come to this restaurant again. I really wish I wouldn't see him again.

Today is already as bad as it could be. I really wish it didn't get worse. As a waitress, you could do yourself some good by getting yourself ready to meet rude customers and people who feel like you were born to serve them just because you're a waitress. The woman staring back at me was really testing my patience, which was already running thin.

"I said it doesn't look like it was in the picture," this woman says to me, and I feel my eyes twitch.

"Alright, ma'am. "I'll change your plate," I say with a fake smile plastered on my face.

I groan as I approach the kitchen. "A customer is complaining that her meal doesn't look like the picture on the menu," I tell Claire, who gives me a look of disbelief.

"What does she mean by that?"

"I've been asking myself the same question. "I just don't have the energy to deal with any rude customers today."

Claire sighs as she takes the plate and immediately fixes another one.

"I hope our royal highness approves of this," she says with a snicker, and I laugh despite how tired I feel.

When I get to the table, she gives me a scowl as I place the food on her table. She accesses it, picking at the vegetables with her fingers and sniffing with her nose. I resist the urge to slam her head against the table.

"This can be managed," she says.

Good for you! because I wasn't about to change that plate again.

"Your cutlery is dirty." "Is that how you people run this place?" She asks in her annoying, high-pitched voice. I take a look at the forks, spoons, and knives on her table and notice that they are impeccably clean—as usual.

"They are clean, ma'am."

"No, they are not! "I can see the dirt," she shrieks, gaining the attention of the nearby tables.

"Fine!" I snap, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. "I'll change them."

But she's no longer interested in that. "Did you just snap at me?" "Is that how you guys treat your customers here?"

"What's going on here?" Josh asks, and I breathe a sigh of relief at his interruption. I had already lost my patience and was scared I would do something rash before he showed up.

"I want to speak to the f*****g manager!" She screams. At this point, everyone is staring.

"You're speaking to him," Josh says, and she falters for a bit before raising her voice again.

"Your worker here has been so rude to me since I stepped inside this restaurant," she says, pointing her long finger at me. "She's saucy and has a terrible attitude." "You should fire her," she says, and I roll my eyes.

"See! She just rolled her eyes at me.

Josh goes on to diffuse the situation. He's giving her that warm smile he usually gives everyone, talking to her in a calm voice, even holding her shoulders. I even notice she has a small blush on her cheeks. Soon, she'll be using the "dirty" fork to shove food into her mouth. I sigh and mouth a "thank you" to Josh, then let out a small apology to the other customers as I walk back to the counter. My shift is almost over, and I could use a hot shower and some sleep.

"Are you okay?" Josh asks later as he comes to the counter, and I smile at him.

"Yes, I am. "Thank you for dealing with that earlier."

I have a huge respect for Josh. He's the owner of this place, yet he actively participates in everything that goes on in the restaurant. He's also very friendly with the locals and customers, which is why his restaurant is easily one of the best restaurants in the area.

He hums. Logan asked me to check up on you. "I don't mean to pry, but did anything happen on Friday?"

At the mention of his name, my smile slowly disappears, and Josh notices this.

"I was just stressed, so I overreacted to something he said," I say, leaving out the details of our conversation. Josh looks like he wants to ask more questions, but he decides against it.

"I think you need a break." You've been working double shifts since your first day here.

"I'm fine, trust me," I say with a chuckle.

"Take tomorrow off," he says adamantly, and I shake my head.

"No. "I don't want to take a day off." I need the money badly. "And you need all the help you can get."

"That's why I hired a new waitress." "She starts tomorrow," he reveals.

"But..."

"I won't deduct it from your salary if that's what you're worried about," he adds, and I try to hide my smile.

That's actually what I'm worried about, sir.

"Thank you, Josh," I say, and I mean it. I could already fantasize about the kind of sleep I was going to have the next day.

"No worries. Everyone deserves a break sometimes,” he says, and I smile at his words. They sound casual and ordinary, but they carry a deeper meaning.

The rude customer encounter is already forgotten as I prepare to leave. It's already a few minutes to nine, and I leave at 9 p.m. on the dot. After giving the rude customer her bill and rounding up everything, I'm finally ready to go home.

I see no use in changing as it's already kind of late, so I just leave through the worker's exit. A flashy car drives past me, and I'm immediately reminded of Logan.

Why would he ask Josh to check up on me? Why couldn't he just leave me alone and mind his own business? Rich people who thought they had a right to know everything

I follow a shortcut. I usually use it to get out to the main road. I deliberated over walking home or taking the bus. I decide that I'll walk home since I won't be coming to work the next day.

As I make my way through a dark and lonely alleyway, I notice two tall and dark figures approaching me.

"Hey shortcake. "Whatcha doing walking alone at this time of the night?" One of them asks. His voice is terribly slurred, and fear grips me.

I ignore him as I clutch my bag and walk faster.

"Hey! "Don't you know it's rude to not respond when someone is talking to you?" The shorter of the two men speak, his voice equally slurred.

I silently curse at the bad luck I've had so far today and hasten my steps even more. It all happened very fast. This minute, a rough hand was grabbing me, and the next minute, the owner of that hand was writhing on the floor.

"Leave her alone!"

The voice sounded very familiar, like the voice that had been haunting me for the past two days.

"What are you scared of, Bella?"

I slowly turn, and surely, he's standing there with someone else standing behind him. I'm guessing it's his bodyguard, or driver, or whoever the f**k he is because I shouldn't care.

The man on the floor groaned, causing me to become distracted.

"What did you do to him?" I whisper, my body still reeling from the shock.

"I just punched him in the face," he replies. His voice sounds angry, and I don't know if the anger is directed at me or the groaning man.

"Where's his friend?" I ask again, and Logan looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"His friend?" He asks, and I nod.

"He ran off, boss," the bodyguard—or driver, whatever—answers, and I nod.

Logan gives him a signal, and he kicks the man in the stomach. I wince.

"Please let him be," I whisper, and Logan glares at me.

His bodyguard, however, completely ignores me and gives the man two more kicks in the stomach.

"Please stop," I say in a gasp as I breathe heavily.

"Stop!" Logan orders and the kicking immediately stops.

Logan is giving me that look again, and I just want to disappear.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue," I say and turn to leave, but Logan grabs my arm.

"You're coming with me," he says, and I try to pry my hands away from his grip.

"Why?" I shriek as he starts moving, taking me with him.

"I'm driving you home," he replies sharply, and I'm stunned by how angry he sounds and how my chest constricts at his thoughtfulness. It's a confusing thing to feel different things at once.

"I don't want you to drive me home." "I'm perfectly fine now."

He abruptly stops and turns to face me. I almost bumped into him at the swiftness of his movement.

"Did I ask?" I gulp as he says it coldly. I didn't give him any replies, so he continues to take me with him. We finally get to a car that I presume belongs to him, and it's the same car that drove past me when I left the restaurant.

"Are you a stalker or something?" I ask as he opens the back door for me to get in. He ignores my question and settles himself beside me. I instantly feel the warmth radiating off him, and I hug myself.

"Do you know you're practically kidnapping me?" I ask him, and he shoots me a look.

"Really?" He says, his voice dry, but there's a grin on his face.

"Yes. You forced me into your car without my permission."And you didn't answer my previous question."

"What was your question?"

"Are you stalking me?"

"What do you think?" He says this and faces forward. I scoff and turn to face the window.

"What's your address?" He asks after a beat, and I turn to face him.

"I thought you were stalking me," I say, and he looks unimpressed.

"So that was the conclusion you came up with?" He asks, and I huff. "Yes."

He sighs, and I notice that he does look exhausted. "Your address, Bella."

I call out my address and turn to face the window again. Why did he turn to follow me? Why did he even care about me? What did he want?

I barely notice when the car stops in front of a shabby building, like my house. I see him access the building with his eyes, and irritation surges through me.

"Not everyone is as rich as you are, so stop judging!" I snap, and he turns to me.

"I'm not judging you," he says, and I look into his eyes. They are surprisingly soft.

"Then why do you have that look on your face?"

"What look?" he asks.

"That look..." I say, and he mutters something to himself.

"You're so insufferable, you know that?" He says it in a cold voice, and I'm shocked at how bipolar he is. This minute, he's angry, the next minute, he's amused, the next minute, he looks like he feels sorry for me, and then he's back to being angry again. If anyone was insufferable, it was him!

"And what the f**k were you thinking walking home alone at this hour?"And what about taking that shortcut?"Don't you have any sense of safety?"

I was immediately taken back to last year: my ex-boyfriend yelling at me in this same manner over a small inconvenience, calling me stupid, and other names.

"Well, I didn't f*****g ask you to help me." "If you were just going to b***h about it all day, you should have just driven past me," I bite out.

I know he's probably just concerned, and I know I sound like I'd thank him for saving me, but I don't. Instead, I open the door and step out of the car. He didn't try to stop me as I bang on the door and walk into my house. And all of a sudden, I felt lonely.