Fulfilling The Billionare's Pleasure

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l have one hour to waste. I slump against my couch and stare at my TV screen. I feel so damn b

I was insanely drunk after the last day of college. His handsome face has been dominating my dreams ever since that d

and he helped me out when I was in my most helpless state. I don't even think I will ever get a chance to

definitely come to conclusions about my behavior. I am not even sure if I really

slept through the entire night. They are used to that kind of life and they are comfortable with it. I am totally different from them. I am very reserved and prefer a commi

hen. She is still working on her morning shift. She places s

ight do something stupid to myself if I stay alone in my a

come back?" she inquires with a raised e

r forgive him!" I say and then put on a fake pout.

u have to move on. I found someo

lm against my heart. We both burst in laugh

o back to the way they

resent some happiness," she tells me, her hands on her hips as if trying to give

e with my current status," I tell her and she eyes me wi

one that will make you go against all

y someone that I would go against all my odds and limits for. Though my interest seems very much like a fantasy. Th

rch about Mr. Carter when I got back last week from the hotel. I didn't find any rel

or my shift. This is my reality and I should try hard to keep my mind present right here. I get to the changing room an

g home and retiring to my couch to watch TV. I know my weekend is going to be super boring but I wouldn't rather sle

e is here, at

a black business suit, ofcourse. And the way he looks around the building, like is determined to find something

I want to look at him but I don't want him to see me. Perhaps if we had meet in any other

er on my way to find a hideout. I think he won't be able to see me now. I don't know why but I don't fe

ze my way past her and open the refrigerator. Luckily, Liza doesn't press the matter. She cont

r is here, at Taste's Home, for a mere meal. That's just it! Why am I freaking out? I am just overreact

cks is the manager of this restaurant and he hardly ever wears such weird looks on his face. He is old man, in about his mid fifties. Someth

so please don't blow this for me, Hannah. Go out there and take his order. He is on table number nine," he tells me, punctuating every word careful to make sure that

ops me before I disappea

dn't ruin this for him. I doesn't matter if it is Mr. Carter or someone else. They are all customers and I shouldn't

h a small boy on one table but they seem to be done. The other customer is Mr. Carter, ofcourse, and his g