The Billionaire's Billionaire ✔️

Chapter 7: Adam's POV

I strode past the broken fire hydrant and into my car. Chester was shaking like a chihuahua.

"Chester are you cold? It's pretty warm today."

"Ssssssir.... are you...sure....the girl....is...ok?"

"She's fine. She's obviously alive and walking away. And I told you to only pronounce the first S in 'Sir.' Your services are slipping Chester."

"Sssssorry sir...." Taking several depth breaths, Chester takes the wheel and continues on.

"Chester drive me back home. I don't feel like meeting with Hobbes today. The whole running over the girl plus getting sprayed with a fire hydrant kinda dampened my mood. I want ice cream."

"Yes sir," said Chester as he drove me to the nearest grocery store.

    I walked inside confidently, with a still shaking Chester following behind me. I made a mental note to ask Chester to keep a warm coat for himself in the car, in case he runs over someone again. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt my heart nearly stop. Right in front of me, was the most gorgeous, breathtaking, majestic creature I have ever seen. Probably the most stunning creature to ever walk this planet. My breath caught in my throat, my heart dilated, my eyes gasped, and my liver beat faster.

    "Ch...Chester...do you see that??" I ask, hoping it wasn't an illlusion.

    "Sir, that is your reflection."

    Chester was right. He opened the door for me and the majestic creature vanished from sight. Sighing in British English (which Chester fully understands,) I stride into the ice cream section.

To my surprise, I catch someone familiar from the corner of my eye, near the cheese section. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The woman had long brown hair which was drenched with water, just like the rest of her outfit which looked so familiar...

Chester let out a chipmunk like squeal. "Sir, it's the girl we ran over. Hide!"

I quickly put my hands over my face. If I can't see her, she can't see me. I feel Chester grab my hand and pull me behind the Pringles rack. Cautiously, we both peek out from behind the cans of delicious chips.

"If we just stay here until she passes, she won't notice us," says Chester while I'm grabbing as many Pringle cans as I can. I suddenly decided I didn't want ice cream anymore.

Once again, Chester is right. The girl limps away, not seeing us at all. Satisfied, we went up to the checkout counter and Chester wheeled out the cart filled with 25 cans of Pringles to the car. Suddenly, I remembered something.

"Chester, she used to love Pringles!"

"Here we go again," sighs Chester.

I can't help it. I burst into 12th century Spanish sobs right then and there in the parking lot. People gave us weird looks, presumably since very few people nowadays comprehend the subtle nuances of 12th century Castilian. I cuddle one of the Pringle cans close to me in the car and continue to sob all the way back to my 70 million dollar penthouse.
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