The Billionaire's Sweet Trouble

48

Sebastian

"A 15-minute coffee date on a yacht? What the hell are you thinking?" I grunted at James on Saturday morning. "You could have done it in the coffee shop downstairs, or any Starbucks Coffee."

"Sorry that I misunderstood your instruction, sir. But I thought of what's convenient for the chopper. To save time from going back and forth, the chopper will wait for Miss Treble on the yacht's helipad."

He had a point, though. It would save me and Sweet the awkwardness after the 15-minute date and waiting for the chopper to arrive.

"Okay, fine. Remind me when it's two o'clock. I have to go home to change."

"Noted, sir," James said, then left my office.

I sank in my seat and thought of Sweet.

Damn, I've been trying to avoid thinking of her since the last time I saw her. I would divert myself by doing something else to keep me occupied. But it was hard to concentrate when her image would pop into my brain from time to time. I felt this ache in my chest that made me feel sad and angry. I wanted to see her so badly. To talk to her...touch her and kiss her.

I've been missing her terribly.

But the back of my mind wouldn't let me forget what happened after the race. Seeing her run towards her ex-boyfriend.

On the spot, my heart shattered into a million pieces. I rode the chopper back home, feeling like all my energy left me. I was so tired and my body was in pain from the race, but my heart ached unbearably. I felt like my world had crumbled on the ground.

Rejected. That's what I truly felt, and it made me feel so bitter, angry and jealous.

Yeah, jealous. I had never been jealous of anyone in my whole life, particularly for a woman. I was too confident of myself that I'd get any woman I like, but with Sweet, it was impossible.

***

At four o'clock, I drove my Lamborghini inside the Stavrakos Elite Club and headed directly to the harbor. It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was bright and the sky so clear.

I parked the car in front of the luxury yacht, docked in the harbor. It was one yacht our company owned to cater to the hotel guests.

"Good morning, Mr. Stavrakos," the sea captain greeted me, simultaneously with the twelve staff standing in a line beside him below the boarding stairs.

"Good morning, Goodie. How's your little kid?"

"Doing well, sir. Thank you for your recommendation of the special school. His spectrum disorder is now manageable."

"That's good to hear," I turned to the staff, "did everyone get their mid-year bonus already?"

"We did, Mr. Stavrakos. Thank you." Each staff member said simultaneously, nodding their heads and smiling.

"Okay," I nodded, "this is a 15-minute coffee date. Everything should be precise."

The barista stepped forward. "Yes, sir. James Morris already instructed me. I prepared a single origin from Ethiopia. I believe you still like your Americano hot. As for Miss Treble..."

"She usually likes iced caramel macchiato. But you've better ask her when she arrives."

"Noted, sir." He replied, "the pastry chef also prepared some rolls and cakes."

"Thanks, Paulo." I headed up the boarding stairs and everyone followed behind me like a platoon.

At the foyer, I saw a bunch of red roses, red balloons in heart shapes, ribbon and trimmings.