The Debt To A Billionaire

Third Occurence: Confession

Chapter Three

Helia felt his eyes linger on her arms, wounded and pale.

The wisps of her hair thankfully blocked his pitious glance. She never had liked pity; pity was for the weak who couldn't care for themselves— who have none to see through their pains. But she was strong, atleast she believed she was, until everything went subpar. Everything was a labyrinthine mess that held up her life, that sadly, was jinxed to no definitive end.

Julian's piercing eyes were like the shards of ice, pushing her esteem into faltering and finally, her breaking point. He watched her swallow the lump of uncertainty on her throat and shiver under his steely gaze. He knew what effect he had, especially being a young bussiness man meant he could browbeat her into speaking. And then, alas, she spoke.

"So, now you know what I go through," She tried a smile which ended to be an unsettling one. "Is that enough for you to let me get this one job?"

He suddenly saw as a much different individual. An intricate woman, who constantly had to have her sleeves rolled up. A woman of work and no lousy speech. She was the type of lady to don her charms of words. He then smiled momentarily, breaking the aura that choked her.

"Why not?" Then his face turned stoic again. "Work's 4:00 pm, after your classes. I'll look forward to seeing you next time."

A happy grin bloomed on Helia's before sour face, lightening the mood around the office. And he, the not easily fazed Julian, found himself smiling, too, as it was the first beautiful thing he saw this day. The gorgeous smile on Helia Poulousse's freshly unpainted lips. 

The next day.

Classes were an unterminable thing for her. She finished with a droplet of sweat or two and dashed hurriedly on her bike to the Juliver's grand mansion which was the perfect picture of an ancestral castle and the wishes of her doubtful dreams. 

She went to the room Julian specified to be the room she ought to work in. But being the scatterbrain in directions, she went aloof from where she was supposed to go and ended in the kitchen, and paused her way to marvel at the chandelier that moved not a single inch and shining like a prism atwirled.

If only she understood the joys of rich people. A house this big would be a terribly hard to clean, and she didn't even think a ladder could be as high as the kitchen's ceiling in the mansion was. If everything had a cost, luxury sure had its price; cleaning.

With her mouth hung open, she walked backwards in a fashion of appreciating the splendor, before bumping on a warm chest that felt so distinct—smelling of fancy perfumes that suffocated the air that went about them. And then, a deep velvety voice rung almost a foot and a half above her, making her compose herself in a frenzy.

"Wandering in the house again?" Julian smirked above her short form. "Don't tell me you got lost again, miss Poulousse."

"Mister Juliver," she said quickly in a state of embarassment. Was it possible that she was carrying a talisman of klutziness and bad fortune?  "I didn't remember exactly where I was stationed."

Julian snickered, and she heard him mutter 'clumsy' under his sharp cappuccino scented breath. Her eye and vein twitched, cheeks red from humiliation.

She reminded herself to stop being a fool and remember simple directions next time, if there ever was a next occurence. He led her to a room that looked like an office, except lacking the desks yet closets and sewing machined adorned the carpet in which they now stood.