Nicole Harper
~•~
I was lost in thought until I fell asleep.
By the time I woke up, it was very dark outside. I checked my phone to see that it was already past eight at night. I blinked in surprise. How long did I think for? How long did I sleep for?
I sat on the bed, not sure what to do, then my stomach rumbled and I found myself changing into something much more comfortable-an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts.
Barefoot, I made my way downstairs and went to the kitchen. The space was huge. It was the kind of kitchen that made you want to spend time in it regardless of whether or not you knew how to cook.
I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I opened the fridge, hoping to find something to eat. A blue sticky note caught my attention and I carried the container it was stuck on.
My lips pulled into a smile. At least, my mom was selfless enough to reserve dinner for me.
I put it into the microwave and leaned against the kitchen island, doomscrolling as I waited for my food to heat up.
"You don't like me very much, do you?"
I jumped in fright, turning around to see that Tristan was on the other side of the island. I placed my hand on my chest, trying to calm my fast-beating heart. "What the hell? What are you doing here?"
He arched an eyebrow. "This is my house, Nicole," he said, emphasizing on my name.
My tongue poked the inside of my cheek in annoyance, knowing damn well why he was speaking like that.
As I stared at him, all the memories from that night came flashing in my head.
"Are you throwing a fit because your mother remarried or is it an issue with me personally?"
I took a subconscious step backward even if there was something in between us. The more oblivious he acted, the angrier I got. My mother was with her third husband. She'd had several boyfriends. If he were this rich, it wouldn't be hard for him to find out and my mom never hid her history. Why would I get angry about a man who wouldn't last two years?
"Are we going to keep acting oblivious?" I questioned, not sure when the words left my mouth. I hadn't decided on whether or not to confront him yet here he was standing in front of me, looking ridiculously good in a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, looking nothing like the man who tied my hands behind my back, fucked me until I almost cried, and left me like that.
His hair almost covered his eyes, but I could vividly remember how those brown eyes tracked my every move that night. He'd been mesmerized. His intense gaze had turned me on, but how could I have known he was the "billionaire" my mother was talking about on the phone?
He arched an eyebrow. "Have we met before?"
I opened my mouth, ready to call him every name in the book, ready to call him out for acting like he didn't remember what happened that night, but then I paused.
What if he really didn't recognize me?
That night, I'd been wearing a mask that I never took off. I never gave him my name either. It was possible he couldn't recognize me. He knew nothing about me. Not my name. Not my face. Only the sound I made when I came undone.
I turned around, facing away from him as I closed my eyes tightly. Fuck.
I almost fucked up. I almost revealed that I was the stripper that night. If he couldn't recognize me, things were a lot better this way. I would have to learn how to act around him and not give myself away.
"Have we?" He was suddenly a lot closer.
I moved away, walking closer to the microwave as I faced him again. His eyes were stuck on my face. For a second, they drifted to my lips. My breath hitched. "No, not at all."
"Then I presume we have no existing differences?"
I swallowed. As long as we weren't counting intimacy. "None."
"Good," he hummed, his voice low and deep, doing something to my stomach I would never dare admit. "Your mom was worried you didn't join us for dinner today. I'm assuming that won't be the case tomorrow."
Dinner? Together? I wasn't used to that. However, I didn't trust my voice anymore so I just settled for nodding. His presence was imposing. He was close enough that he could reach me, turn me around, and...
I cleared my throat, ridding myself of every improper thought I had of him. He was my mom's husband. Aside from that, he wasn't a good person either. Good people didn't cheat on their partners. There was nothing to fantasize about him.
Just because I knew what he looked like and felt like, just because I knew how good he was at handling a woman's body didn't mean...
Fuck. I was already going off track.
"I don't like it when women are unhappy in my house," he said, taking a step back. "Especially not my wife."
I bit the inside of my cheek, physically restraining myself from snorting. If he cared so much about his wife, why was he looking at strippers with lustful eyes? Men were such hypocrites.
The microwave beeped, reminding me that I still had to eat. I let out a breath and focused on my food. By the time I brought the container out of the microwave, he was gone. I didn't even hear him leave.
Then again, I didn't hear him come in either.
I transferred my food onto a plate and carried it up to my new room, not wanting to run into that man again. He unsettled me.
I needed to pretend like everything was fine, but I'd never been the best at pretending.
This was going to be a wild summer.
Were there any jobs that provided accommodation for interns?
