I am appointed by a Billionaire to be his Heir's Girlfriend

I am appointed by a Billionaire to be his Heir's Girlfriend 14

(Author's note: SORRY. It's been six days. It's just a short chapter. REALLY BUSY. But I hope you'll like this chapter. I dedicate it to everyone who read this. It had been on the top list of Teen fiction and Romance. thank you! Please keep reading. Vote and Comment. Thanks again. 'Til I log in again!)

-Nate Van Warner POV-

                Ugh! It’s morning already?

                I got up already and did some stretches after brushing my teeth.

                I wonder If Athena is already awake by now. Or if she read my note already and ate the breakfast I ordered for her.

                I went to open my door, rubbing my eyes, when I heard someone gasped. I’m not the one who gasped definitely. I could tell.

                In front of me stood Athena Vanderbilt, her brown eyes widened in surprise and her left hand clamped to her mouth.

                “What on earth are you doing here at this hour?!” I exclaimed.

                Her still-wide eyes move down to my chest and her expression turned weird.

                I looked down on my own chest. Okay. I get it.

-Athena Vanderbilt POV-

                OH MY GOSH! I’m not seeing it! I’m not seeing it! I’m not seeing a thing!

                But as a matter of fact, I can see it! Darn it!

                His chest is perfectly chiseled, the kind of thing you expect from handsome players. He’s not really that kind of frightening muscular I see in magazines but…oh gosh. I could see his six-pack. They look…awesome. So masculine. I wonder what’s it’s like to touch them? They could be so…hard. 

                Okay, Athena, STOP. You’re having perverted thoughts. And that’s not awesome.

                Again, why does he sleep with no shirt on?!

                “Earth to Warden? Hello? Is Athena there?” Nate muttered, his light blue eyes staring right through me.

                “NATHANIEL!” I yelled and he raised his eyebrows in response.

                I didn’t look away because he seemed to be enjoying so much if I’ll be uncomfortable with his get-up.

                “What’s with you for yelling?” he asked me, his hand leaning on the door.

                “Don’t you dare sleep shirtless again when I’ll come over!” I said, my hands balled into fists.

                “Ooh. Why?” he muttered as he folded his arms on his perfect chest.

                I swallowed, “Because I don’t want it. Problem?”

                “Yes, I do have a problem with that. I have my own right to wear whatever I want to sleep. Or if I ever want to wear anything at all.” he protested. Talk about human rights. Is that even applicable to him?