Loving Billionaire Nate

Episode2

A marriage contract

“I…” …”How…?”

Georgia’s words were stuck in her throat and only came out with short breaths. She felt thirsty all of a sudden. This sudden need to have something down her throat.

“Peter…sorry…Mr Peter,” she corrected herself. “What are you doing…?” Before Georgia could complete her stare, she felt his huge hands grab the back of her neck and pull her into a deep, bit rough kiss.

She pushed against it, but it only gave them a break of ten seconds to stare into each other's eyes. His eyes still had those Gray eyes, just like his brother's. Only this time, they were filled with hunger.

From his breath, she could tell he had a lot to drink. His squinted eyes alone gave him away. Otherwise, what would billionaire Peterson Peter, first son and heir to the Peterson empire, be doing in her room by this time?

Her eyes traveled down his build. His abs were rigid and created a v-line at his waist, which traveled into his towel. Whatever lay below that towel, she craved it more now seeing the way he looked at her.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Peter let his weight drop. She was left with no other option but to follow the lead of his body. She found herself on the bed, and in a gipsy, she was passionately rolling tongues with Peter.

She could taste the wine in his mouth. Even the already-consumed wine tasted like wealth. More wealth than she had seen in Jordan's home. His hands separated her legs, and she knew what was coming. However, she didn't expect it.

There was this last glance they shared right before she felt him inside her. She moaned, letting the night and the atmosphere lead her into a track of pleasure.

****

The shrill sound of her alarm woke her up instantly. It wasn't her alarm, however. It was a call from her father. She rubbed the sleep off her eyes and unlocked her phone only to see twenty missed calls.

That was unlike her father. Even when there was an emergency concerning her mother's health, he never called up. to twenty times. This just seemed different. She made a turn to the left side of the bed and almost panicked.

She forgot she had someone else on the bed. He was sleeping soundly. Georgia slipped out of bed, got dressed, packed her things up, and crept out of the room. She dragged her belongings down the streets of California while dialing her father's line.

After two unsuccessful attempts, he answered the phone.

“Papi,” she called, already disappointed at what he was going to bring up. “I’m sorry I failed you and mother. I promise to make it up. I promise Papi,” she cried.

“Come home…mi amore. Your mama and I have something to talk to you about,” those were his words.

Georgia was surprised at the response. She just failed them. Jordan was the only person who'd given them hope in the family. He took up her responsibility to provide money for her mother's chemotherapy.

He was the only reason why her mother was still alive up until this day. And now that her marriage with him was disrupted, that hope was gone. That help, that assistance. All of it.

Now, she was to return to the street as an artist, selling her art and trying to make connections.

“But Papi…” she attempted to question his response, but the line beeped. He ended the call. Georgia walked herself down to the bus station, where she waited for the second bus.

The stations got crowded in a few minutes before the bus pulled up. It drove for about twenty minutes before she ordered a halt and came down. She was standing on the street leading to her house. A street she hadn't been to in four years.

She took in the morning sir, trying to steal some happiness from the air. But all that therapy was interrupted by her dog which ran out of the house to welcome her. Finally, a reason to smile. Georgia cuddled Muchito…her dog.

They played about for a minute before she wondered why her parents weren't out to see or welcome her yet. At least her father. She led Muchito back to the house.

She froze the moment she walked into the living room. Her eyes blinked rapidly trying to understand what was going on.

“What's going on here? Why's he here?” She questioned with disgust.

Her father was as silent as a mute pet watching Georgia take further steps into the living room. She walked up to the point where she would see him closely. Her high school bully. Nate Peterson.

“Papi?” Georgia called.

“Mr. Nate here has a proposal, princess,” her father said. He left the comfort of his couch and went to his daughter who refused to stop glaring at their visitor.

“And what…could that be,” Georgia returned.

“Mr. Nate has offered to help us with your mother's chemotherapy bills and to take care of the rest of the needs of our family,” he answered. There was a smirk on Nate's first which disappeared the instant Georgia corked a brow.

“How generous of him,” Georgia scoffed, sounding unimpressed. “And what does he want in exchange?” She added with a one-sided smile.

There was a long minute of silence before her father broke it.

“Your hand in marriage”.

******

“Never!” Georgia shouted as she burst into her room. Her father followed behind and locked the door him behind. “I can not, papi!”

“You're shouting, mi amore. Our guest is still in the living room,” her father whispered to see if that would make her reduce her voice. But Georgia was all in for her first answer. NO!

Never was she going into a marriage with the boy who made her high school experience a living hell. The same boy who led her on made love to her in the hallway and made a video of it, which he published on the school website.

“Mi amore…”

“Have you forgotten what he made me go through, Papa?” Georgia interrupted her father. The video published by Nate, where his face was blurred, was what brought an end to her scholarship in the elite school and ruined her chances at college.

It was safe to say that Nate ruined her. And now her father expected her to jump into a marriage with him because of what he would offer?

“I can't. Not now. Not ever!”

“It's not a request anymore, Georgia,” for the first time in years, her father called her by her birth name. Georgia saw the look in his eyes. That look he would have on his face whenever he was called to come pick her up from school because of one mischief or the other.

“Are you selling me off, Papi?”

“No, my baby. It is for your mother. And your papi. And yourself. I mean…look at the shame you went through in New York,” his father reminded her of it. He Inched closer, but Georgia took out her pen knife, which she always carries around, and placed it beneath her throat.

“I'd rather die!”

******