Page 8 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
I keep replaying it over and over in my mind: how he kissed me, how he made me feel things I haven’t felt in years.
Still, it’s not just the sex.
There’s something about him, something that keeps me up at night, turning over every little detail of that evening in my head.
Was it just lust, or something more?
I can’t help but wonder if I’ll see him again.
The thought of him lingers in my mind constantly, no matter how much I try to focus on other things.
I’m standing in the shower, water rushing over my skin as I attempt to shake off the thoughts of him.
I focus on the steamy sensation as the water pours down my back, trying to calm my nerves for the day ahead. It’s my first day at the Hudson Hotel, and my stomach is doing somersaults.
Amy managed to pull some strings and get me the bartending job I’ve been dreaming of. Finally, a steady income to support my photography aspirations.
But the problem? The one thing that keeps nagging at me like a constant itch?
Noah.
Last night, I dreamed about him again.
I relived the way his lips felt, the way his hands traced the lines of my body, his voice, low, teasing, whispering things that made me blush in my sleep.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
Today isn’t abouthim.
Today is about my job, my career, my future.
I can’t get distracted.
I leave the apartment and step out into the cold New York morning, my breath fogging in front of me. The city’s alive with noise, the air thick with a thousand different smells: coffee, exhaust fumes, and the sharp tang of city grime.
I pull my coat tighter around me as I make my way to the subway station. The steps are crowded with people moving in all directions, some rushing, some barely moving, but all of us connected by the constant hum of the city.
As I descend underground, the smell changes, becoming musty, stale, with a bit of mold mixed into the faint scent of sweat and stale air. The subway station is dingy, a far cry from the polished hotel I’m about to start working at.
I feel a slight shiver run down my spine as I wait for the train, my shoes tapping impatiently on the cracked floor.
A homeless man sits in the corner, his head resting against the wall, a sign held in front of him saying, "Anything helps". Idig into my purse, pulling out a ten-dollar bill, and walk over to him. I drop it into his cup and give him a quick smile.
“I hope things get better for you,” I say quietly, before moving back toward the train tracks.
As I board the train, I tell myself I really should do more, volunteer, donate, help the community, but the doors close with a soft thud, and I push the thought aside. The subway starts moving, and I let myself focus on the rhythm of the tracks beneath my feet.
The train slows as we approach my stop.
Time to head to work.
I step off the subway, the scent of the city now mixing with the fresh air of Manhattan. My heart beats faster as I make my way toward the Hudson Hotel.
The building looms ahead, towering over me with its mirrored windows that reflect the bright morning sun. The white pillars out front give it a stately, almost regal look, and I feel a thrill of excitement in my chest as I approach the entrance.
The logo is etched into the glass doors, bold, elegant, and unmistakable. Hudson Hotel. The kind of place I could only dream of working at just a few months ago. Now, it’s all within my reach.
As I walk through the doors, the lobby greets me with a blast of cool air, and my footsteps echo across the opulent marble floors.
