The billionaire's mysterious lady

Episode 7

HE LAST THREE days have proved uneventful, and I’ve never been so thankful in my life. My world has reverted back to some degree of normality, and work is the only thing that is keeping me sane at the moment, in between worrying about Maxwell and thinking about him.

Him, who has, unfortunately, plagued my dreams, or possibly my nightmares, whichever way you want to look at it. He is all I have thought about since collecting Maxwell on Tuesday morning. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there, staring at me with that slight smirk and those deep blue pools. There has also been more than one occasion when I have woken up in desperate need of...something!

Sitting at the old wooden table in my kitchen, I am lost in thought, fixated on last night’s dream and his business card, when Maxwell walks in.

“Good morning, sunshine,” He says with bright enthusiasm.

“Is it?” I reply with a little too much cynicism. He narrows his eyes at me in disbelief.

I acquiesce. “Sorry.” A forced smile tugs at my lips.

Since Monday, I’ve seen more of him than I have in weeks, maybe even months. He hasn’t been out transgressing, and curiously, He’s even picked up a few more shifts at work. Just like me, He also works for Nancy. Whereas I don’t wait hand and foot on the rich and ungrateful anymore, Maxwell is quite happy to be one of Nancy’s boys on the ground.

“Isn’t it the Benahiilz function tonight? Why are you up so early?”

“Yep, it is,” He says cheerily, grabbing a bowl and a box of flakes from the cupboard. He sits opposite me, and his eyes instantly fix on that business card, which I’ve intentionally left on the middle of the table for the last three days.

He nudges his head in its direction. “Are you ever going to call him?” I shrug my shoulders. I know the answer should be no. I know that is the right decision. But why does it feel that maybe I am wrong? Everything has felt different since Tuesday morning.

I feel different.

“I think you should,” He replies, in between mouthfuls of Corn flakes. I roll my eyes.

Words have long since been abandoned on the subject of Castro Desmon. He is all He has talked about since finally regaining consciousness late Tuesday afternoon. After hearing his name mentioned for the thousandth time, I snapped. Needless to say, for the last twenty-four hours He has skirted around the subject, just barely, but He doesn’t fail to get a dig in whenever he can.

“Don't roll your eyes at me! I know you, remember. You can't let every guy you meet go because you're frightened they will be like him. He's a bastard. You might think you left it all behind down the ocean in our habitat but you haven't, because he's still there at the back of your mind, controlling everything and still poisoning your future.”

God, how I wish he was wrong, but he never is. Truthfully, I would always be running from my father, and my other demons, while we still lived and breathed the Same air....