The Billionaire And His One Night Stand

Los Angeles, Sebastian

The meeting was in full swing, the conference room bustling with discussions and debates over the latest project. I was engrossed in the conversation, my attention fully committed to the matters at hand, when my phone vibrated ominously on the table. I frowned, glancing at the caller ID, and my heart skipped a beat. The call was from Patrick.

Excusing myself from the meeting, I answered the call, a feeling of dread washing over me as I held the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said, my voice tense with anticipation.

The voice on the other end was shaky, and it was clear this call wasn’t an easy one. “Mia’s father has been released from jail,” the voice said tersely, delivering the news without preamble.

My mind raced as the implications of those words sank in. I had thought that Mia’s father would serve a longer sentence, and this abrupt release was nothing short of shocking. It was a jarring reminder that the world could be unpredictable and unforgiving.

“Pissed” didn’t even begin to cover my feelings. The sudden change in circumstances left me seething, both for Mia’s safety and the emotional turmoil this news would surely bring her.

Without wasting a moment, I contacted Mia, my fingers dialing her number as I paced the corridor outside the meeting room. She answered the call, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Hello,” she said, a hint of uncertainty in her tone.

“Hi, my love,” I replied, my voice earnest but laced with concern. “I just received a call… Mia, your father has been released from jail.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a heavy silence that mirrored the weight of the news. I could feel the shock and confusion in her response.

“What? How? Why?” Mia’s voice wavered as she grappled with the sudden revelation. She, too, was struggling to process the unexpected turn of events.

I reassured her as best as I could, my words chosen with care. “I don’t have all the answers right now, but I want you to be cautious. Keep an eye on your surroundings, and don’t hesitate to call me if you ever feel uneasy or unsafe.”

Our shared love had always been a source of strength and support, and I wanted Mia to know that she could rely on me during this challenging time.

Once the call ended, I returned to the meeting, my thoughts continually drifting back to the disconcerting news I had just received. I struggled to concentrate on the matters at hand, my mind preoccupied with worry and frustration.

When the meeting finally concluded, I wasted no time in calling Patrick, my brother and the person who had shared the news about her father’s release. I needed answers, I needed to understand what had transpired.

“Patrick,” I began urgently as he answered the phone. “What do you know about this? Why was Mia’s father released? Is she safe?”

Patrick’s voice was as strained as my own as he replied, “There isn’t much information to go on. All I know is that someone paid his bail. I’m just as shocked as you are. Mia is supposed to feel safe, and this… this changes everything.”

I cursed under my breath, a simmering mix of anger and anxiety overwhelming me. The sudden, inexplicable release of Mia’s father cast a long shadow over the security and stability we had tried to build for her. It was a wrenching reminder that the past could intrude on the present in the most unexpected ways.

Finally, as I made my way home, the sense of unease never left me. The journey back felt longer and heavier, the weight of concern bearing down on me. I knew Mia would be equally affected by the news, and my heart ached for the emotional turmoil she was undoubtedly experiencing.

As I entered my home, I immediately dialed Mia’s number, eager to hear her voice and reassure her once more. She answered, her voice a mixture of trepidation and relief.

“Hi, my love,” I began, my voice softer now, filled with understanding and affection.

Mia responded in kind, her voice carrying the complexity of her emotions. “Hi,” she replied, her words imbued with the knowledge that our world had shifted in an unexpected way.

I mustered all my strength, my concern simmering beneath the surface. “Mia, we need to talk about your father.”

I could feel the shift in her tone as she replied, “What’s wrong? Is something happening?”

Taking a deep breath, I decided to dive right in. “Mia, I’m worried about your safety now that your father has been released. We need to consider what’s best for you.”

Her voice held a hint of frustration as she responded, “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not moving to LA. My life is here in New York.”

I had expected her resistance, but it still grated on my nerves. “Mia, I know New York is your home, but with your father out of jail, I genuinely fear for your safety. We can’t ignore the risks.”

Mia’s reply was sharp and stubborn. “I can’t believe you want me to uproot my life just because of my father. He’s my problem, not yours.”

I sighed, my patience wearing thin. “It’s not just about your father. It’s about us, our future, and our family. I can’t stand the thought of you being in danger.”

The argument was escalating, the lines of communication becoming strained. We were both passionate and unwavering in our positions, and the tension was palpable.

Mia softened her tone, attempting to reason with me. “I know you’re worried, and I appreciate that. But this decision needs to be mine. My father’s actions shouldn’t dictate how we live our lives.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

The heated argument with Mia had reached a point where my patience had been stretched to its limits. Her stubbornness had always been a challenge, but the topic of her father’s release from jail had intensified our disagreement to a breaking point. Frustration surged within me, and in a moment of exasperation, I ended the call abruptly, tossing my phone onto the bed with a groan of exasperation.

I despised fighting with Mia, especially knowing that our disagreements often led to a deadlock. In any argument, there always seemed to be one person who was “right,” and the other, in this case, was me, who felt like a helpless “male.”

My phone rang again, and I took a deep breath before answering, bracing myself for the continuation of our tense conversation. It was Mia on the other end of the line, her voice laced with irritation and a touch of humor.

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you,” I muttered, an apology that seemed necessary to restore some semblance of peace between us.

Mia’s reply was swift and laced with defiance. “Yeah, you better be. I just called back so I could be the one hanging up on you.”

And with that, the line went dead, leaving me baffled.