Loved by the ruthless billionaire

Catherine started her day as usual. She always had her to-do list prepped ahead of time. A part of her day that she always enjoyed was staring out of the window. It gave her a sense of peace, watching as busy people made their way out. Cars honked erratically. She just loved how unpredictable this city was.

It sure different from the small town she grew up in. This city was a dream. It encompassed everything she ever wanted. Truth be told, Catherine was a dreamer. That’s all she ever did.

She had the sweet taste of satisfaction on her lips as she made her way to her small kitchen situated at the entrance of her cube-sized apartment. Her breakfast was always simple; avocado toast and runny eggs.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, noticing the faucet was still broken. It was an old building, so most of the appliances and amenities were archaic. At night, the hissing sound coming from the radiator put them to sleep. It was going to be one cold winter.

After spending the most part of her life serving tables, she made a conscious effort to incorporate a lot of healthy lifestyle choices. So, most part of her time was spent in her small kitchen.

There are certain things fast-food chains don’t tell you about their methods and procedures. That’s why she never ate out, at least that was the reason she gave her friends. The real reason was the crippling debt she was in.

The only form of pity Catherine encouraged was self-pity. Any other kind was not welcome.

“Cathy! Could you please get me my towel? I forgot it”

“Again!”, she groaned, frustrated. Ruby was Cathy’s friend and roommate, sometimes a pain and other times, a gem.

“Please, Cathy!”, she cried out. Catherine clung onto her pen knife tightly, trying her best to think only happy thoughts.

“I’m going to get it!”, she raged, walking to Ruby’s bedroom and grabbing the neatly folded towel from the bed. The house was a two bed, one bath. That was the best she could get with the budget she had in New York. It was even worse for her because she moved in summer when the housing market was intense.

“Here”, she stretched her arm and handed her the towel.

Catherine was a writer. The main reason she moved to the city was because of her non-existent writing career. She had already started talking to agents about her new book. She had emailed a ton of them and today, for the first time, one agreed for a meeting.

The venue was a local coffee shop in downtown Brooklyn, one she visited often because of their impeccable service and nice view of the city.

“Cathy! Wear a skirt, you’ll look more professional“, her roommate yelled from her room.

“It’s a casual meet up. I’m not trying to apply for an office job”, she chuckled.

Gathering her things from the drawer, she stumbled upon a piece of paper. It was the note her mother had given her the day she applied for her first job. It said : “Good luck my little cat cake“.

Catherine tore it up, squeezed with all her might, and threw it into her small stainless waste bin. “No negative energy today”, she whispered as the surrounding air became thin.

She held herself together for a solid second, but she knew she had lost control when she heard a wheezing sound coming from her throat.

“Catherine! Catherine!”, her roommate called out. She ran through Catherine’s door, which stood ajar, placing her hand on her back and rubbing vigorously. Catherine was having a panic attack. By now, she was used to it. It happened every now and again. She gets this sinking feeling in her chest, then her throat feels like it’s closing in.

“Are you okay?”, her roommate asked as her breathing gradually returned to normal. Catherine nodded, grabbing her manuscript and laptop from the desk. She sprinted out of the apartment with jeans, a sweatshirt and running shoes.

As usual, the train was packed and her anxiety had caused her to miss her regular seat. Surprisingly, the thirty-minute transit felt shorter today and sitting between people wasn’t as suffocating as usual.

She got to the coffee shop, her usual breath of fresh air which now it seemed like it was taking her breath away, and not in a good way.

Catherine scanned the room thoroughly for any new faces. She didn’t bother calling the agent because by now she knew everyone who visited the coffee shop, even the employee ’ names by heart.

There was a man at the far end with a laptop in front of him. That was her guy. Immediately, they locked eyes. He waved, gesturing for her to take a seat.

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m Dave,” the man had a British accent with not many striking facial features. He had one of those boring librarian’s, prim and proper looks that Catherine hated.

She held out her hand to take his, which was already in the air, expectant. “I’m Flora, Catherine Flora“.

“I know who you are. I mean, would I be here if I didn’t?“, he chuckled dryly. She didn’t find it funny. “Silly me“, she said, forming a half smile.

“Well, let’s get down to business, shall we?”, he chuckled again.

“Let’s”, she got her backpack off the desk and struggled to get her huge manuscript out of it.

“There would be no need for that. I still have the copy you emailed me”

“Oh, okay”, his tone was disorienting. She couldn’t tell when he was joking or serious.

“Your book, your book is….”, he paused, taping the desk with one finger.

“It’s umm…”, he stopped his incessant humming as the sound of broken glass and sighs of concern filled the café.

Catherine’s attention shifted to the table on the opposite end of the coffee shop. It seemed like a newbie had spilled coffee on one of the businessmen that patronized the shop.

“Do you know expensive this suit is?”, he yelled at the young girl who knelt before him. She gave him a pitiful look, apologizing at every chance she got.

Catherine didn’t quite understand it. These men visited the café next every day for the last month. She’d join in on the staff gist most weekends when she really didn’t want to go home. The “men in black “as they were called, barely ordered anything, when they did, they paid extra, too much even.

She grabbed a tablecloth and attempted to dab his suit with it. The man shifted swiftly in an unexpected manner, causing the girl to fall down.

“Are you crazy? You’re really trying to ruin my suit!”, at this point, people had their phones out already.

Catherine was fed up with all she had seen. She marched up to the table, ignoring the company of bodyguards that stood tall.

“With all due respect, sir, I think you are the one who’s crazy,” the young man’s face had lost all its expression. His eyebrows had formed a crease, and he was now smirking. The hefty men beside him waited patiently for an order. When they got none, they stood still, silently cheering their boss on.

Tessa tugged on Catherine’s jeans, begging her to stop talking. “I need this job, stop it!”, she mouthed slowly.

“And who do you think you’re talking to?”

“You! It’s a bad thing you didn’t wear your name tag,” Catherine was incredibly feisty. She wasn’t one to sit and watch whilst someone was humiliated. Especially by privileged people.

“I don’t need one“, he said with a smug look. “My name is Donovan Smith, remember it!”. He exited the coffee shop, making sure to give the manager an apprehensive look.

How could a person be so arrogant?

All phones were down and inside the owner’s bags or pockets as the party exited the shop.

“Are you crazy? You almost got me fired”, Teresa let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you”, she said, hugging Catherine tightly.

“Almost?”, Jerry, the manager, chuckled dryly.

“What?”, Catherine said with concern.

Without taking a second look at her, he said, “Tessa, you’re fired!”.

“What! Why!”, she said with a shaky voice.

“I’m sorry, it’s just business”, he said in a reckless abandon.

“But you know my mum is sick and I’m the only one she has. How am I going to find a new job?”, she was already sobbing.

“I’m sorry, the situation cannot be helped. It’s either you or me. He can buy this shop if he so pleases”.

Catherine felt a surge of guilt flow through her being. If she had just sat still. With all the chaos she had forgotten she had an interview to attend. She turned in the direction of her table with so much hope just to find the table empty. Dave was gone.

Teresa left the coffee shop immediately. She needed to inform her mother about the new development and also get her prescription from the doctor.

“Shit”, Cathy mumbled, packing all her items into her bag, lugging it out of the shop and onto the train.