Page 165 of The Billionaire's Baby
I take a deep breath, compose myself.
Niko turns to me. "You look beautiful," he bends down and kisses my cheek. "and I've never been prouder of you."
I swallow and he straightens to his full height.
"Shall we?" Niko asks.
55
Arpad
I wake up with a start, glance around, and find the room empty. Guess Edward must have left at some point. I'd been drinking; he hadn't. He'd had a glass of whiskey and nursed it through much of the evening. I must have passed out on the couch at some point. A thumping behind my eyes makes me groan.
I sit up and my stomach lurches. Shit, I can't be hungover. Am I hungover? I am never hungover. I rise to my feet and the world tilts. Sweat beads my palms. Bloody hell. I stumble toward the sink in the bathroom, grab a glass and hold it under the tap. I glug down the water, and my guts clench. I will not be sick, will not. I slap the glass back on the counter, take a breath, another.
I open the cabinet over the sink, grab the aspirin—yeah, it's the kind of hotel which caters to every need of its guests. I swallow two of the pills with water, then lurch back into the bedroom.
Sunlight filters in through the window.
Shit, what time is it? I check the watch on my wrist. It's 8.00 am. My heartbeat ratchets up.
In an hour, she’ll be married. She'll belong to someone else. Someone who will love her, who'll take care of her. Who'll never tie her up with ropes and fuck her. Someone who doesn’t go chasing storms, putting his life at risk. Someone who'll have a nine-to-five job, come back to her every night, and give her the children she so badly wants. Shit. She’s going to be someone else's wife, carry someone else's child.
Hell. I drag my fingers through my hair. How dare she do this? How dare she walk out on me without giving me another chance at...this, at being with her? At being the father of her child. I am the one who offered first, and she turned me down. What the hell is wrong with her?
I march into the bathroom, shower and get dressed. I grab my phone and check the time. 8.10 am. Shit, shit, shit.
I pocket the phone, grab my wallet and car claim ticket, and walk out. I am only going to drive by City Hall. It is enroute to St Katherine Docks where my yacht is moored. I am going to get on my boat, and get the hell out of here, and then not look back. I am going to find the next storm and sail my yacht straight through it. I'll get off on the adrenaline high, then come back to port and get laid. I'll do all that, then I'll get the hell out of this city. I'll return to LA, find the next hottest start-up to invest in. I'll do all that, and I'll be happy.
My stomach bottoms out.
Of course, I'll be bloody ecstatic to go back to my single ways.
No more stalking a sassy, curvy brunette who makes my cock hard, every time I think of her. More importantly, no more driving myself crazy every time she looks at another man. Or having a heart attack when she tries on a wedding dress after turning me down. Shit. I drag my fingers through my hair. I am losing it. Clearly, I’d been on my way to being pussy-whipped. Good thing she'd decided to marry someone else. She'd saved me from being ball-and-chained-up like those of the Seven who had tied the knot. Yeah, she'd done me a solid by deciding not to marry me. She'd saved me from turning into a boring, one-woman man—from turning into someone content with his life, his wife, his family... None of which I want, right? Shit... Shit... Sweat beads my forehead.
Why the hell is it so hot in here? Clearly, I have been on land for too long. I need to get out of here and back onto my yacht. Hell, this time I'll sail to the Caribbean, to the island I'd bought there and never been to... Because I'd been planning on taking her there for our honeymoon. Jesus H, get a grip, man.
Time to put the plan into action, and get the hell out of here. I'd had a lucky escape. Time to get out, while I still can.
I head down the corridor, then take the elevator to the reception of the hotel. I walk out the front door, toss my claim card over to the valet. He scampers off to get my car and I begin to pace up and down the sidewalk.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I relax?Do not look at your watch. Don’t do it.I glance at the dial of my wristwatch.
"What time is it?" a voice calls out.
I glance about and spot the homeless guy on the sidewalk. The same guy I'd seen in the alleyway near the boutique where she'd tried on her wedding dress.
I stalk toward him, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"It's a free country, last I checked, man." He smiles and his teeth gleam. Who the hell is this guy, who could afford such dental work?
"You following me, asshole?" I growl.
He chuckles. "Now, now, don’t get ahead of yourself. I like to move around, that's all. Besides, I wanted to make sure you saw this."
"What?"
He holds up his phone, the screen face-up.
