Mr Billionaire and His Innocent Obsession

Chapter Two

Putting the thoughts out of my mind i grab my keys and head out. On my way to work I decide to just drive around for a while. The feel of the breeze against my cheek helped with my hangover and I just really let myself enjoy it. Allow my nostrils to pull the humid air into my lungs and relax my tense muscles.

I let my instincts lead me to a park. I drive till I find a packing space, grab the face cap I keep in the car safe for times like this and pull it on. This is public space and I won't be able to stand the sound of screaming women with the hangover. It would drive me freaking insane.

I grab my phone and iPad and walk around till I find a quiet bench far away from people and close to the lake. The air here is fresher and cleaner. It smells like wet sand, water and salty air. For the first time I months I let myself just think of nothing. My eyes stare into the distance. Nothing but water in front of me for many miles. Reminds me of our little town in backwood Texas. Beautiful land, animals but they didn't have any beaches.

When I first moved to the city I always came to the beach whenever I just wanted to get away from my problems and just relax I would bring a cigarette out here and a nice thriller novel to get lost in. That was till I became famous and now everyone wants a a piece of me or my money. It made me appreciate the beauty of liberty.

Beside the lake is where I spend my day. Just staring into the space and seeing eventually reading a book on my iPad. After a while I stop doing that and think about what happened the previous night.

He had promised himself that it was the last time anyone would think they have the power to control him. It was time he showed the world he was not to be messed with. It was time he did the one thing he swore to his sister as she laid their in his arms bleeding to death that he wouldn't do and now he had to break that promise.

That was what pushed him to the brink of madness yesterday night, made him lose control.

I spend the rest of the afternoon there till I start to get hungry. Standing up gingerly I walk back to my car, get in and drive aimlessly into town till I get to a part of town I rarely ever went to. Against my better judgement I steer my car into this street and at the very end of the road tucked into a little corner I see the sign.

'Martha's diner' it jolts me and I park my car. I don't know what it is about today that just has me making impulsive decisions.

I walk into the diner and my eyes skim around not missing a thing. It reminds me of the little diner back at home. Every worker about 3 Miles away drove to that diner to get lunch every day. By noon it would be packed full with rowdy ranch hands and workers who want their burgers and wraps. It was owned by Miss Betty. She was not a miss but no one dared called her by her name only. She was a tough nut to c***k. She took no s**t from people and was very respected in our small town. If you had any problem she would always listen to you and you could believe you would hear the unbridled truth from her. She was always so honest and brutal.

I feel a pang of sadness. Since I left that town I have never returned and some days like this I miss it. I miss the dinner and all the memories I made there. Some memories I never want to remember. The same memories that chased me in the first place. The reason I left and never looked back.

Some days it feels like I am running and running and that’s all I ever do. Willing my hungover body to move to the counter the sweet aroma of baked goods and the strong scent of fresh brewing coffee hit my nostrils and settled my rumbling stomach.

One of the worst feelings is the hangover. Sometimes I think I intentionally drink to punish myself because I know alcohol does not take it away, it does not numb the pain. It is to punish myself.

Sunken eyes find straight pair of legs. The first thought that register in my head is ‘what beautiful legs’ I think to myself.

Slowly lift my eyes to find outrageously curved hips covered in dark wash jeans, a small tight waist, soft mounds of her womanly flesh wrapped in thin bare cotton that reads ‘Martha’s diner’.

I look up slowly and find the bluest eyes I have ever seen in my life looking up at me with such innocence i have to mentally restrain myself from taking a step back so I don’t taint her.

Eyes that screams of innocence and purity. She’s an untouched.

The milky peaks of her covered breasts glisten with perspiration. I turn my hands to fist to pull myself together. Lips upturned in an unsure smile tells me I make her nervous. I think it makes sense that she is nervous around me. She’s very small in size compared to my six feet four, her head barely comes up to my shoulder. Makes her look even smaller when she looks up into my face with her hands twiddling in front of her.

“Hi… w-welcome to Martha’s diner. What would you like to get on our menu?” She asks properly.

SOFIA's Pov

She knew she was not meant to state but for the life of her she could not look away from him. She had to stretch her neck to look into his eyes. Her towered over her and it trilled her. Made her feel small and feminine.

The magazines and news didn’t do him any justice. He was obviously famous for his wealth and influence in the economic world but also he was chased constantly by paparazzi because he was one of the most eligible bachelors. With the build and frame of an athlete, a face sculpted by the gods.

I try not to show how nervous I am. Now today of all days no one is taking this shift and since the universe has always worked against me we are the only ones in the diner if you ignore Joe in the kitchen who is oblivious to all the drama of the diner. You would always find the Lebanese cook with his head bowed stirring and making food with his ears plugged as he blasts opera music at the loudest volume he can find.

I patiently wait for him to reply me.

His eyes hold mine and for just a second I think I see interest in those green blue murky depths. It takes me aback because I’m wearing this washed out jeans and Martha’s diner shirt that I inherited from the girl that worked here before me . I believe I’m the fourth person to inherit this shirt. It has stains that I have tried everything to get out but won’t budge. I try to think of it as the shirt having character and history in those stains and burns.

“A cup of coffee would be nice. Black, one sugar.” He finally says.

“Okay. Do you want a booth or would you like to sit at the counter? Or you want it to go?” I ask as I turn my back to him and head behind the counter to make his order.

All my senses are alert as I’m super aware that he’s watching me walk away.

“A booth would be nice, preferably one farther away from doors and windows.” He says looking at the windows that show a view of the street.

“Okay. Follow me.” I tell him and take him through the side of the dinner into a smaller private part of the diner. It is designed to sit about eight people, for like private celebrations and events of that nature.

He finds a seat as I go and bring his cup of coffee.

Before Martha hired me she made me pass her compulsory test. I had to brew her a good pot of coffee. I passed her test in flying colors, as a matter of fact in her own words ‘this is the best damned cup of coffee I ever seen’ she said softly.

I hide behind the counter as I lift the jug and a coffee mug. Breathing in a deep sigh I make my way to his booth as I try not to let my hands shake and spill coffee all over the place. His eyes are fixed on his cell phone as he typed away on it so he doesn’t even look up as I reach him and that gives me time to sneakily feed my eyes by taking him in.