My cold-hearted Billionaire

Chapter 2 Rolland’s pov

“What do you guys mean by you all setting me on a blind date? Did I ask for that? Are you all now hooking me up with girls behind my back? What, am I like 12? So I can’t make decisions for myself anymore? Are you guys even mad?” I exploded, my voice echoing in the living room, the walls seeming to close in around me.

I was used to my family pestering me about marriage, inviting a parade of girls to the family house whenever I visited my parents.

But my friends doing this? That crossed a line! Sure, they dropped hints about wanting me to find a girlfriend from time to time, but they had never gone this far before.

“We just want the best for you, bruh. Ever since Louisa le…” Brian started, but I cut him off, my anger flaring.

“Enough! I don’t want to hear that name, ever again!” The words shot out of my mouth like bullets, and I could see the surprise on their faces.

“Bruh, Brian is right. It’s been two years already; you need to let it go and move on!” Reynold chimed in, his tone a mix of concern and frustration.

“And who said I wasn’t over her? I’m just not interested in a relationship at the moment; I’m a busy businessman,” I replied, trying to defend my reluctance. But deep down, I knew the truth was more complicated.

I had moved on, yes, but the scars Louisa left behind ran deeper than I cared to admit. She had cheated on me, stolen my money, and disappeared to marry the i***t she had been seeing behind my back. Trust was a luxury I couldn't afford anymore.

We were still deep in conversation when my sister’s call came in. These days, I was so tired of taking my family’s calls that I hesitated to answer. The conversations were always the same, a relentless loop of questions: “When are you getting married? Have you found a girl? When was the last time you went on a date? Mother sent your number to a wonderful girl; she’ll call you, so be nice.” It never ended.

I tried to avoid them by ignoring their calls, but that only led to problems. They thought something has happened to me.

The last time I pulled that stunt, Brian had called me at 3 in the morning, his voice laced with concern, asking if I was okay, safe, and why I hadn’t been picking up my mom’s calls. It was that bad.

So, I reluctantly decided to keep taking their calls, always ending with, “I’ll call you back; I’m really busy right now.” At least that seemed to work.

My mom often reminded me that I was the child of her old age. After 15 years of raising my sister, my parents had resolved to adopt a male child to carry on my father’s lineage and legacy.

Then, unexpectedly, my mother took in. At first, she thought it was just a usual sickness, but as her belly began to grow, the hospital confirmed she was pregnant—with a boy! Their joy was boundless, and they threw a huge party for my gender reveal.

I understood their feelings, especially when, at 27, I was still single and had no plans for a relationship, let alone marriage. The weight of their expectations pressed down on me, a constant reminder of the legacy I was supposed to uphold.

“Hello, my not-so-little brother!” she beamed over the phone, her voice radiating warmth and familiarity.

“Helle, big sissy,” I replied, a hint of affection creeping into my tone. After a brief pause, I added, “How are Father and Mother?” We always referred to our parents in that old-fashioned way, a quirk that felt oddly comforting.

“They’re fine, just in dire need of grandchildren with the surname ‘Roderick,’” she said dryly, her sarcasm unmistakable. She couldn’t even wait to finish with the pleasantries before diving straight into her relentless pestering. I fell silent, choosing not to respond until her voice broke through the stillness again.

“You’re still coming home tomorrow, right? Get some roses on your way. Mum invited Desdemona to say hi to you. Remember her? She was home-schooled with you for a year in elementary. She’s all woman now, Rolland! You need to see her! You’ll love her, trust me!” Her excitement was palpable, practically bursting through the line.

“I have a date tomorrow; I can’t make it,” I said flatly, hoping to end this conversation swiftly.

“Sorry? Did I hear correctly?” she asked, feigning disbelief, though I knew she had heard me loud and clear.

“Yes, sissy, I have a date tomorrow; I can’t make it,” I reiterated, my patience wearing thin.

“Omg, who? Do I know her? This is good news! Mother is going to love this!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm only intensifying.

“Ughmm, sissy, I gotta go. Love youuuu, bye!” I said quickly, cutting the call before she could respond further.

As I hung up, I felt the weight of Brian’s and Reynold’s stares fixed on me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

“What?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“You just agreed to go on the date,” Reynold said, his tone teasing yet serious.

“Ughmn, no, I just said that to avoid my family’s plan,” I replied, adopting an “obviously” manner, hoping they’d drop it.

“No, no, no! We are not gonna let you use us like that. You either go for this date or go see the pretty hot Desdemona at home,” Brian declared, his fingers already reaching for his phone on the table.

“What are you doing?” I shot back, a mix of annoyance and disbelief creeping into my voice.

“Calling your big sister Rosy to let her know your plan,” he replied nonchalantly, as if he were merely ordering a pizza.

“Come on, man, don’t do that! Okay, fine, fine, I will go,” I relented, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on me as he dropped the phone back onto the table.

“Better,” he said, satisfaction lacing his tone.

In that moment, I felt like the world was against me. Even my friends? The people I called my guys? Did my parents ask them to do this to me? Why were they all of a sudden so strict about this, too?