An age gap love story.
A brokenhearted billionaire.
A college girl.
*****
"Nevaeh," Aiden whispers, "can I rest my head on your shoulder?"
I nod, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. He closes his eyes.
"Thank you." He sighs in contentment. "...
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I open my eyes, breathing rapidly. Sweat is all over my body.
When I sit up against the headboard, my gaze darts on the cup of hot chocolate sitting on my nightstand.
Nevaeh.
I remember feeling so drained last night that I fell asleep before she could give me that. I mutter a silent curse. I haven't even apologized to her after what happened inside the painting room, but she's still worried about me.
I wonder why I was so angry. Now that Olivia's pot is gone, it dawns on me that it wasn't the fact that the pot was shattered that triggered me. I'm angry because Nevaeh was the one who broke it, as though it was meant to be broken by her.
I don't like this fear growing inside me. I don't like feeling a lack of control.
My eyes land on my laptop sitting on the desk in the corner of my room. I can't believe what I did last night. I should have known that watching porn would only sicken me.
I take the hot chocolate, drink it, and sigh. It tastes good, but it has gone cold. How long have I slept?
The clock hanging on the wall shows that it's almost noon. Shit. I've skipped work.
I put the cup back on my nightstand. Even though I've drunk the hot chocolate, something is still missing.
If I hadn't fallen asleep before Nevaeh brought it to me last night, I would have had her by my side, even just for a while.
I haven't gathered my energy back, but I force myself to get out of bed and walk out of my room.
"Nevaeh?" I call, making my way down the corridor.
I'm fucking stupid. It's not like she's just going to show up. I have to look for her.
While I'm walking to her bedroom, I notice that my penthouse is deserted today.
Where the hell is everybody? Are they just going to let me die on my bed?
OK. I'm being too much, but really, where the fuck are they?
I stop in front of Nevaeh's room. The door is slightly opened, and that makes me frown.
This is not good. Has she not learned from her experience? What if it weren't me standing here?
Although I'm convinced that my penthouse is safe, I can't bear the thought of some jerk -- like that security guard who deserved to be turned into a bloody pulp -- attacking her. Just thinking about it makes me angry.
