Stranded:The Billionaire Biker And The Chef Next Door.

Olivia: At ten a.m. today, my life was going to change. So I often told myself. I would either be able to stay in New York and pay my rent, or I would be forced to leave and face my past. The outcome of the second round of interviews I was getting ready for would dictate my fate. I needed that job more than anything in my life. I had debts to pay. I studied my efforts to look professional in the reflection of a shop I could never afford to set foot in. As I waited to cross the street, the mannequin in the window seemed to mock me. I sighed out of frustration, hoping no one could see through the façade of the wannabe—fancy clothes and colored lipstick I had put on to hide my fear. Straightening the sleeves of my perfectly white shirt and tucking it in properly, I took another deep breath. I hoped it would fill me with the courage and determination I needed to survive this day. I needed it all. Hayes Industries was one of the biggest names in the world of luxury automobiles, motorcycles, and race cars. They even had their own branded gear, run by the one and only Dominic Hayes. The young man was a faceless legend. He had forged his way to the top with nothing but hard work and disruptive vehicle designs, setting himself amongst the biggest names in the industry. Apparently only his staff and close people knew his face. There was more than the status of the man I was about to meet shaking my confidence, though that kind of self-sabotage ran deeper than just the nerves that preceded a life changing interview. There was this constant familiar voice I'd hear. Diminishing and degrading as always, it was far away now, but it still kept tearing me and my dreams to pieces. Whispering my determination into oblivion. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to remember I could be anything and do anything I wanted to do. And that I passed the first round. I just moved back here yesterday and moving to another city with nothing was not an option. So saying today was a big deal was an understatement. This was my new start, far away from ghosts that were still pretty much alive and well. I held my head high, balancing the best I could on these heels, aiming for graceful but settling for not falling while making my way through the busy streets of New York. "Oh s**t. Nine thirty already." I hissed to myself as I tapped my phone for the hundredth time in ten minutes. Just as I was about to My phone back in my handbag. Ice-cold water splashed over my body, soaking straight through my shirt and a part of my skirt. I froze, blinking at the shiny black motorcycle that had just cut a line through a puddle like it owned the entire road. "Hey!" I said, stomping my foot. The rider slowed down for a minute, turning into the curb like he hadn't just destroyed my morning. Of course it was some arrogant biker who thought they were above traffic laws. I had a photographic memory, so I was going to remember his bike plate number immediately, and I also caught a glimpse of what he was wearing. He zoomed off immediately. This can't be happening. I would never have time to go back home to change. I couldn't go like this to a possible life-changing interview. I had to find a café around to do something to my shirt, at least to look presentable. I was trying as hard as I could not to let my tears fall at the possibility of losing this great opportunity because of some mannerless biker. I got into the nearest coffee shop. "Good morning, bathroom please?" I asked the barista, who simply pointed to his left, to a pair of black doors. I saw the exact bike the guy who drenched me was riding, and I scanned the room to see if he was there, and yes, he was standing in front of the counter. "You!" I yelled. "You owe me an apology, mister," I said, using my hands to show him my drenched shirt. "Excuse me, do I know you from somewhere?" he said with his deep voice, putting his hands in his pocket. "No, but you made this happen a few minutes ago," I said, still showing him my wet shirt. "Oh, that was you." He sized me from head to toe. "Yes, mister, and because of you, I'm going to be late for an important interview." "Then you shouldn't be worrying about me apologizing to you, young lady. There's nothing I can do to change what has already been done. So run along now." My eyes widened in disbelief. "Wow. What a f*****g piece of shit." "Watch your mouth, young lady," he said, taking out his wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a hundred-dollar bill, pushing it towards me. "Here. For your laundry." I rolled my eyes. "I don't have time for this bullshit. You keep your money." I pushed the money back to him and walked into the bathroom. I ran into the bathroom, praying I could clean up the mess that dickhead had made all over my clothes and still make it to Hayes Industries in time. First impressions last long, and arriving wet when it wasn’t even raining to a place that lives and breathes class and exuberance didn’t exactly play to my advantage. I took my white silky shirt off and started drying it with the hand wash dryer, standing only in my lacy bra. I mumbled every dirty word in my dictionary, cursing that black-haired perfect stranger for possibly ruining my life. I was done for. "Hey." I jumped from the unexpected deep, manly voice that rang from behind me. A new rush of heat and embarrassment flustered my cheeks in all shades of red as I stood half-naked in front of this stranger. He took off his leather jacket and his inner shirt, then threw his shirt at me, leaving him shirtless for a while. "What! Couldn't you at least knock before coming in here?" I said, trying to cover my chest. "Relax. Nothing I’ve never seen before." He said, pulling his leather jacket back on. I might be innocent, but I'm quick to observe. His words didn't match his actions at all. His tongue had swept across his lips. The still-wet trail of saliva shining on them was proof of his unrestrained reaction. That was all it took for the heat on my cheeks to travel south and settle between my legs. He wore rudeness and bluntness just as well as that damn alluring leather jacket he had on. But that little white lie, I caught it. My chest filled with a strange sense of pride at that realization. "Wear that instead. You're not going to leave here on time if you keep doing that," he said. "What?" "God, you're so slow. Didn't you say you're going to be late? Wear my shirt instead." As much as I wanted to pretend that I didn't need his help, this was actually a good idea. "Oh. Thanks," I said, looking at the shirt. "You don't have to thank me." "Well, unlike you, I know how to be polite," I said. "Now can you please leave, so I can dress up. This is the ladies’ room." "You're welcome," he said, pointing to a design that said his and hers. "Good luck, Missy." Through the mirror I saw him staring at me for another second, nodding in disapproval before leaving, finally allowing me to breathe in peace. That marked good deed was nothing but an excuse to taunt me. His arrogant tone hit a nerve deeply braided in my body, but truth be told I was mostly unsettled by the heavy pounding of my heart against my chest, paired with the flutter in my stomach and weak knees. Why was my body reacting to such a jerk? I couldn't deny that he was handsome. He had a bad-boy, worse-man vibe going on. That man might have just ruined my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and there I was, daydreaming. He was infuriating and a complete rude bastard, but there was something about him that pulled me like a magnet. I shook my head to get him and his bad manners out of my mind. I dressed up and rushed out of the café, heading as fast as my heels could take me toward Hayes headquarters, hoping and praying to God I could still make it in time.