Page 1 of Billionaire's Dangerous Desire

Prologue

My mum was anxious, even more so than I was.

The scenery was stern. There were palm fronds dashing outside, there was the greenness of the cultivation.

“Oh, my. Has it come yet?” She paced the living room, heaving desperate sighs as her hands wrestled by her sides.

“No, it hasn’t.” I was getting tired of her, even though I knew it all came from a place of love. I was lucky to have her so concerned about my well-being, and this job I had applied to, their acceptance e-mail we were looking forward to with utter nervousness. She had cancelled all plans she had made today just so she would be with me when the e-mail came in. If that was not a lovesome commitment I do not what was. And I do not want whatever you may want to call it.

There was a wave of exhaustion I immediately felt. A tiredness limp and bloodless. It was like I was leaving my body, or my body was leaving me through my mind. There are things that people will tell you when you are feeling overwhelmed like how I was. They would say it could be just your nervous, because this job you were about to get was evidently going to change your life, because you felt this was your last chance to get away from all of this and plunge yourself into an eternity of endless favors and unexplainably delightful possibilities. The list was endless; love, hope, a new family. But, I didn’t need a new family, or newfound hope. Maybe I needed a fresh start, but that was it. I had never been this anxious in my entire life. Even at the moment I failed an exam and was going to lose my scholarship. Even when it seemed like my world was going to fall apart.

Two more hours and fifty beeps later, and we were still waiting for that acceptance e-mail. We’d made her favorite dish, Spaghetti Bolognese, and we were just settled in Until it plopped in, instilling momentary silence between us. I was in the kitchen fixing us a salad for dinner, and my mum was fixated on Jimmy Fallon, so we had not really heard the beep until I just remembered my phone on the couch. I lifted it to my face and as I saw “Congratulations” etched across the screen I could not help but scream.

Mum started celebrating with me, because she just knew why I was squealing without having to know. I could see her eyes glimmer with hope. Her little girl was all grown up, and was ready to take the world by storm. The word would literally be my oyster.

“Maybe you will find love, my dear,” she said, with a grin.

Yeah, maybe. Just maybe.

ChapterOne

There are certain things they don’t tell you as a young woman travelling across states for a better job with a better pay, and better living conditions. They don’t tell you how the roads look similar, like they were spat out from the same cartoon pop-up book; the swaying trees, rustling bushes, and flickering streetlights, sculpted in the same manner, plopping out of each corner, an alignment fashioned to freak you out. They don’t tell you of the many creeps you’ll meet on the journey; the stinky, the hairy, even the cute ones you’ll return a smile to at the gas station, and because you’re for some reason, horny, will fuck the hell out of at the gas station’s bathroom, moaning in all delight, your nose wrenching, the hairs on your neck rising, until you see him from the corner of your eye, slipping your red, velvety underwear into the rear pocket of his ripped jeans. Your next reaction would be similar to the one any person with a nine to five job experiences when they are enjoying their slumber so deeply, despite knowing they have end it, so they can head to work.

I was almost there, he thrust with a force so vibrant he raged my insides, plunging out pleas I only faked with the last couple guys I had sex with. Maybe it was his tattoos, or his shimmering blonde hair, but I was so into him, and I didn’t want to have him stop right there. Who knew when I was going to reach this climax again, and with a beauty like this? But I had to.

“What are you doing?” I bit his lip so he paid attention.

“Huh?” He winced in pain, and looked up at me, his brown, beaded eyes, seemingly wounded.

I asked again, this time, more specific. “What are you doing with my panties?” But, he just stood there, frozen, and then, leaned in for another steamy kiss. That was when I knew he was just a flaming, alluring creep. So, I did what any lady would do at the moment in her defence— kicked him in his bare crotch, and seized my underwear from his pants’ pocket.

Truly, I didn’t think I had it in me to find my way about this new job with all I entailed, but I knew I had to uncover that part of me that could no matter what. I knew that was my only choice. And, as true as it is that there are certain things they do not tell you about, there are, yet, some of those things you need to find out yourself.

* * *

On arrivingat this uninspiring town in Delaware, with the exception of the ruckus stemming from along the street; from an unusually lanky gardener and his jarringly loud lawn mower, everywhere seemed soulful. Serene, even. I could actually hear the birds flapping in the thick, blue skies, calling out to each other, unlike the noisy town where I was coming from, where you only saw them fleeting from one chimney to another, over your head, and much later, the large, nasty mess they’d leave for you on the windscreen of your car. Here, the air was chilly, but in a warm, fuzzy way that embraced you tightly, instead of sending chills down your spines. It was calming, the environment, the scenery. Despite the nervousness I was feeling, this being my first day of work, and the throbbing headache that had been storming my head, spending the long nights while in transition, at motels that played reggae music— Bob Marley-style— and rap, for hours, coupled with their discomforting beds, I was feeling super confident.

You can do anything you set your mind to,I told myself in front of the mirror above my steering, while doing finishing touches on my makeup. I don’t know whether I just lied to myself, but I guess I was about to find out. I peered at my phone and looked at the description of the office to check if I was, indeed, at the right place. The e-mail congratulating and offering me the position of the Manager-Aide to the Mayor of this small town came with a picturesque brochure on how to identify the mayoral building, amongst the others, and what made I stand out.

When I first took a glance at it, this brochure, with a structural layout of the buildings surfacing it, I’d thought,How hard could it be to spot a royally white building that stood almost twelve feet tall, amongst other residential homes and shops in a small town?But, here I was, after having passed six tall, white, buildings, standing corrected. It took me a while before I remembered Google Maps, and decided to give it a try. It’s quite hilarious how I’d travelled over twenty miles, between states, for three days without getting lost, until now, when I knew I was just a few feet from my destination.

“Turn right.” The spiritless, automated voice prompt buzzed through my phone, alerting me. “Then, another right.”

Chill, girl.I turned my key and start the ignition.Wait, is she even programmed to deliver one command over another?

I followed the directions from my phone, rather adamantly, scoffing as the directions came, as I had still not gotten over my phobia for robots and applications that seemed like they could develop into robots someday. I know people would say I shouldn’t think in this backward, myopic way, that these inventions were brought to us to make our lives easier and generally improve the quality of life, but I can bet in the long run, they would do more harm than good. Fast-forward to a couple years from now, heck, months if we are unlucky! We would have this software driving us to our destinations, turning our steering wheels, cutting corners, and not just instructing us. That’s if there are not already cars out there that aren’t already entirely automated.

You’re at your destination.The annoying, automated voice prompt came again, and I brought my car to a jerking halt. For some reason, I did not want to look out the car windows; for fear of actually beginning, maybe coupled with this glint of insecurity I could never seem to discard. I could not quite take a hold of what it actually was that was keeping me from stepping out my car, my comfort zone, into the wilderness that was this quiescent town, but I had to, someday, right?

“Keep it together, Evelyn. One would think this was your first rodeo.”

But that was the thing, it was factually my first rodeo. See, this was the first time I had been assigned a job this delicate, and all on my own. I had been a Manager slash Human Resources slash Content Strategist Intern for what had to be the last five years. Mostly because I was part-timing, trying to conclude my Communications Degree; one I had loathed every gruesome step of attaining. So, summing up all of that, the qualifications which ended up zeroing to nothing if one took a proper introspection and discovered I was just an intern all through, with meagre pay, you can see why my nervousness was bouncing through unimaginable charts.

I took a deep breath, and just focused on getting out of my car and putting one foot before the other, until I had fully faked the courage needed to make it to the building without my legs wobbling to a disgraceful halt. But, as soon as I got down and shut my car, the people stared. And this was not the feeling of people staring, where it could be either in your head, or not entirely there to begin with. This scenario was as vivid as Michelangelo’s sculpting; the people stared cruelly, boring their eyes at my clothes, tearing past it, to my skin, and every damn apparel I had on. It was like they wanted to eat me raw.

At first, I thought they were rather merely irritated by my hair— a jagged brown mess that sat atop my head and ruffled at the slightest tease of humidity. But, it seemed to be more than that. From across the block, I saw how they glared at me all over, and not just peering at my head. It was like they had a problem with how I had presented myself. But, what was wrong with what I had on? A charcoal button-down shirt and a blazer over it, a pencil skirt, and a pair of close-toed dress flats, with a scarf tied around my neck? Did these town folk have something against ladies who dressed as flight attendants? Anyways, I wouldn’t have worn something suave and sexy as this had it not been for my mother breathing down my neck bothering me about how important first impressions were.

“The fact that they are called small town people don’t mean they are small-minded,” she scolded, her glares scalding.

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