BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Valerie’s POV

My nose twitches and my eyes flick open, the rays of the sun setting on my skin.

I sit up and glance around as the memories of yesterday’s event come rushing as well as last night.

I turn to the curtains to see them open. Did Ryan open them? I look towards the door and it is still locked.Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

Maybe the curtains were drawled to their sides last night.

I get out of bed and move towards the door, rubbing my two hands on my eyes to rub off the sleep.

I am damn hungry and I could eat a horse right now.

I unlock the door and get out. Finding my way to the kitchen, I get to the living room and my eyes fall on Ryan sleeping on the floor with his blanket hanging on his leg, half of it on the couch.

Did he fall from the couch or he purposely slept on the floor?

I almost chuckle at the sight of him sleeping with his legs apart.

I know he might want to go to work since there is no talk of a honeymoon and I really don’t want him around for the whole day. Maybe I should wake him up.

I can’t be bad all the time.

Strolling to the living room, I bend down slightly and tap him with my right hand, the other hand still rubbing my eyes.

He doesn’t even shake so I lean forward with arms akimbo, wondering if he is a deep sleeper.

Why isn’t he waking up?

Feeling lazy to bend down again and tap him, I raise my leg and hit him on the butt and he jumps up with a scream.

He glances around, probably to see if there is an intruder in the house while I am still standing in front of him with my hands on my waist.

When his gaze finally settles on me, he frowns deeply and looks down.

“Did you just hit me?” His husky voice asks and the sleep in his eyes vanishes immediately.

I shake my head innocently. “No, I was waking you up for work.”

“Waking me up?” He scoffs and throws the blanket over his shoulder, his hand going to massage his forehead.

Is he having a headache? I shouldn’t have woken him up. Maybe he isn’t going to work and he wants to use the day to relax at home.

But I don’t think I can stand him.

“I tapped you but you weren’t waking up…”

“So you resorted to hitting me with your stupid legs?” He shouts, and I look down at my legs in amazement.

The last time I checked, men drool over these legs because they are long and pretty. Ryan will be the first man to consider it not beautiful.

Well, I shouldn’t have hit him that way. I didn’t do that out of sheer wickedness. I just wanted to help.

Is helping him a crime?

“I just wanted to wake you up for work. I was trying to help so you won’t be late..”

“Shut the fuck up!” He yells at me, wagging a finger at me in warning as he grits his teeth in annoyance.

I know I should probably say sorry because what I did is wrong but I can’t bring myself to tell him that.

I just continue to look at him as he makes an effort to control his rage.

Without any more words, he brushes past me and storms to the room I just left. I wave the thought away and find my way to the kitchen to make breakfast.

I should make him some too so he would eat before going to work.

I honestly do have a conscience but I don’t want to feel bad for what I did because he deserves it for being arrogant and thinking he can control me.

That was the first impression I had of him even before I met him and when I eventually met with him, the impression was right.

I hate arrogant men. They piss me off. It is also a turn-off for me as well, no matter how good-looking they are.

This is probably the reason why I fell in love with Fred. I love men who don’t control women. Men who listen to women. Men who aren’t arrogant or egoistic. Fred was the type of man. He gives me a listening ear and he is down to earth.

I toast some bread for us while I hear the shower running and quickly make sunny side up and some coffee too. Serving the food on two plates, I place the coffee on the tray and walk briskly with it to the dining area.

The penthouse isn’t as big as his mansion but I really do like this place and I wish we can live apart. If only this is going to be possible, then I would have loved to ask him to give me this penthouse while he stays in the mansion.

I get to the dining area and drop the plate on the dining table. After setting the table, I am about to sit on the second wooden chair to begin eating my portion when he comes out wearing a clean suit with a briefcase.

I guess he has many of these in the closet. Maybe he spends time here as well.

Without sparing me a glance, he drops the briefcase on the couch and buttons up his inner shirt and adjusts his suit. Then he picks up the briefcase and tries to take the door out.

I stand up hurriedly from the dining chair and rush to stop him.

I am not his maid. I wasn’t employed to cook for him but out of goodwill, I did and also to redeem myself for what I did to him last night and earlier.

Cooking for him means a lot and I can’t allow him to go without eating what I prepared for him. My effort can’t go to waste just like that.

“Hey”, I rush to him before he gets to the door. Spreading my arms out to block him, I sigh loudly. “I made you breakfast.”

“Hey, get out of my way!” He is still looking pissed and I wonder if he ever forgives. If I am not sorry, then I won’t make him breakfast but the obnoxious man I have as a husband won’t see that.

“I said I made you breakfast, you should eat something before you go.”

He does not say anything. He turns round to see the cup of coffee on the table as well as the plate of toasted bread.

He shakes his head and when he gazes up at me, I know the next word that will come out of his mouth won’t be good.

“You want to poison me?”

I gasp.

“Frustrating my life isn’t enough?” He adds.

“What?! How could you say that?!”

“Because it is clear to the eyes that this is what you can do. Just get out of the way, woman. I don’t have your fucking time.”

I am hurt.

He is stupid. I shouldn’t have made him breakfast. I shouldn’t have felt sorry for him. Why does he always make me do bad things to him?

I shouldn’t be hurt because I am not supposed to expect anything from this jerk. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to the marriage in the first place. This is not working.

I drop my hands and step away from the door. Quickly, he walks past me and opens the door to go out.

I watch him go.

Lost in thoughts, thinking about everything, the ringing sound of my phone jerks me out of my reverie.

Thinking it is mom or dad, I rush back into the bedroom to find my phone. I remember sending a text to mother last night before going to bed. Maybe she just saw the text and she wants to know how I am doing.

I sent her that text because of dad. I don’t want dad to be worried about me so I told them I was fine and everything was ok.

I didn’t text dad because I know he won’t see it. He doesn’t read his messages since the start of his business problems. He only makes calls and receives calls. He was like a walking ghost and I seriously feel for him.

He used to be my hero. And mentor.

But now, I don’t know if he still is.

The phone is ringing on the side drawers. I jog further to grab it but my heart stills when I see the name that flashes across the screen of my phone to reveal who is calling.

It is Fred.