Reunion with My Billionaire Ex

Hot Date

Hot Date

Maurice's POV

“Fine, coffee. I can make you a fine cup.” I uttered, driving by the cars in the blinding city lights. I didn’t realize it, but it was the first time I'd had him at my place. It will be too shabby for him to exist, I think.

“It’s a date then.”

“Unwrap the gifts with me. I'm not doing it alone.”

I've been to his house, and it’s a fuckin’ palace. It was second to none; I mean his dad’s. The Winstons owned the top floor of the Stanhope Hotel. We were celebrating in. It was right across the fashion house he owned and I worked at. Their apartment had fourteen rooms, I suppose, inclusive of six bedrooms with private bathrooms the size of my entire apartment. Their living room was much like a ballroom, and not a place where people live. Even their maid’s quarter was nothing compared to mine. They had a bar, a fully equipped gym, and a f*****g theatre. Uh, such luck to live in these riches.

He behaves too young sometimes to be twenty-six. More like a little boy with unpredicted temper and mood swings. But he can be quite cute too. Like he is right now. And his glistening eyes. He whistled and smiled when I looked at him. Uh, how is he even possibly existing in the same air as me? He has this perfect life everyone loves to live, and I am just a bystander watching him enviously from afar.

I lived in a very cozy two-bedroom apartment, which I bought after moving out of the one the company provided me with seven years ago. I brought myself a new one just two years ago. And it’s great. I can see the entire city once I look down from the fifteenth floor. It has glass windows and a small swimming pool on the patio. I plant there and sip my morning tea. Besides, I’m saving up to buy a house in London. A big one. I had enough that I needed to live here in content, though I’m never satisfied with my professional life. I always want more than I have. I even spoil myself with gifts and luxuries. But never more than I can chew.

I don’t know if Ricky likes it, but his wandering eyes didn’t look like that of dislike. He carefully put the packages on the coffee table in the center. Oh, the time. I glanced at my watch, and it was ten-thirty already. Uh! There is still time. I let out a warm sigh of relief.

“Are you waiting for something?” he uttered, following me to the kitchen, grabbing the coffee mugs before I can grab them from the upper cupboard.

“Yeah, mom always calls me at midnight on my birthday…” I replied, feeding a coffee capsule in my grey coffee machine, placed neatly on the kitchen counter between the toaster and juicer, and pressing the brew button. A great cup of coffee is a girl’s best friend and I have a few of them every day.

“Your mom? You never talk about her,” he mentioned. Well, yeah. I don’t talk about her often, like never. No one knows much about her except Mr. Winston. Only he knows how she ended up in an insane ward of a mental hospital. I don’t want to talk about it. “But also… we talk a little about our families.” He is right. I know damn much about his family, him, and his father, but not the mom. She doesn’t live with them. They never like to talk about her either. Maybe she is dead or just gone. Who knows?

“I haven’t seen her in the past seven years.” I showed him the home screen of my phone. It was me with my mom in that. I was in my red prom dress, and she was admiring me in her work with her tired eyes. It was her last weekend in America, then she moved to London to stay closer to her parents after dad left. And my last picture with her where she seemed like the person, I remembered her as.

She is not that anymore.

“You must miss her. She must be a powerful person like you. You look exactly like her, by the way.” he smiled at me, the cheeky one. I know I shouldn’t have gulped down that champagne, but Mr. Winston can be quite convincing sometimes. I was getting swayed by his comforting words. I don’t remember the last time someone has told me this. He knows the right time to say the right words. I dared not to look him in the eye. I stayed still, my back on him, holding my phone, hard, in my fists. Almost tearing up. He was so close, his chest was almost touching my back, his warm breath was leaving chills from my ears to my spine.

I quickly diverted my concentration back to the coffee.

He liked expresso, and I was more of an Americano person. The first brewed cup, with frothed milk and sugar, I gave to him and the next was for me. I turned around to give him his. But I stood still as his lips suddenly pressed against mine. I hold on to the coffee tightly, or it has fallen straight on our feet. I have kissed no one in a long time. I almost forget how it felt like. Like the shot of adrenaline running through my veins just tenfold. The heaviness in the stomach and lightness in the heart. My brain was refusing to think about anything but him, and also thinking of a hundred scenarios this thing can continue, at the same time. But no… not him. I pressed my hand against his chest, not too hard, but just to let him know, and he pulled right away from the kiss. For once, I wanted him to resist. No, that will just be too selfish.

Ignoring the fact that we just kissed, he took the cup from my hand and gulped the first sip. “Okay, now I know why you never like the coffee I brewed for you.” he sipped and smiled at the same second and slowly made his way back on the couch, by the millions of gifts that because of my stupidness we will open together.

Is he for real? Well, good for me, he is not making things embarrassing.

He picked the first box. Revealing wrapped gifts makes me realize there are still people who try to buy me things they want me to like, and I can never not like that. He bluntly picked the one from the left corner. It was the one he gave me; I remember. The only one in the stack with a golden cover. It was a small box, like the size I can fit in my palm, as it seemed to me like a piece of jewelry. “We should start with this.”

“It’s the one you gave me,” I started, taking it from his hands. “I'll open it.” And took it from his hands. To my surprise, it has keys. But for what? I look up at Ricky. “What is this for?”

“This is from dad and me…” he shakes his neck, rubbing the back of it.

“But what for…” I couldn’t understand.

“A house with a blue door.”