A Night with The Billionaire

One

As Isabella walked up the stairs to her flat, she could hear the faint sound of her neighbor's television filtering through the thin walls. She fumbled with her keys, trying to find the right one to unlock the door. Finally, success.

She pushed open the door and stepped inside, kicking off her shoes and letting out a sigh of relief as she dropped her bag onto the floor.

Walking to the living room, Isabella was greeted by the warm glow of the setting sun streaming through the windows. Dust particles danced in the light, and she knew it was time for a good cleaning session. Tomorrow would be good.

She went to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. There weren't many foods left, only two apples and a can of beer that belonged to Nicholas. Thinking about him made her want to curse herself. She should have known there were two Nicholas that night. She sighed, blaming the vodka.

"That fridge won't talk, babe," a voice spoke behind her, making her jump. She turned to see her best friend, Cynthia, standing in the doorway. Cynthia had a mischievous grin, and Isabella could tell she was up to something.

"Since when did you learn to break into my house?" Isabella asked, grabbing a can of beer and taking a sip.

Cynthia gave her an are-you-kidding-me look, walked over, and poured herself a glass of water. "I came to see if you're still alive," she replied.

Isabella knew that tone. It meant Cynthia was about to give her a piece of her mind. They had been friends for more than ten years, so Isabella knew whatever Cynthia had to say would be over the top. And this time was no exception.

"You can't just breathe, you have to live," Cynthia said, placing the empty glass on the sink and eyeing Isabella. "Not much of a broken-hearted."

"Thank you for the concern, but I am living the best life I can," Isabella said. Cynthia rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"Are you kidding me? Look at your ceiling, spider webs are all over. Dust is flying like a sandstorm from the desert. Is that what you call living?" Isabella couldn't win with Cynthia. She had many words in her head, ready to sermonize her. Isabella was just taking a break; it had only been two months.

"Tell me what you came here for," Isabella surrendered, dropping her shoulders. "Now's not the time to argue about this."

"You look awful. Have you noticed it? Or are you too busy draining yourself being the best accountant in your field?"

"I know I look bad. You don't have to tell me that, and I wasn't busy being the best in my work," Isabella answered. "I have a lot to finish before—"

"Okay, enough with work," Cynthia raised her hands, telling Isabella to stop. She took a deep breath and stared at Isabella with concerned eyes. Isabella hated that. She didn't want Cynthia to pity her as she blamed herself for what had happened.

"I am not going to repeat this, so listen," Cynthia said. "Enough with regrets and heartaches. You will go with me tomorrow."

"I planned to clean my place—"

"Will you let me finish first, Belle?" Isabella zipped her mouth shut and nodded. Cynthia rubbed her temples like an eighty-year-old woman, taking another deep breath. She had some temper issues. Isabella wondered how Craig managed to handle her.

"You won't be doing this forever. It's been two months, and you've got to accept that s**t happens. Nicholas wasn't worth it. Are you with me?"

"Uhm—yeah, who's Nicholas? Do you mean, by the way?" Isabella asked, not sure of what to say. Cynthia rolled her eyes and folded her arms as she raised an eyebrow.

"Nicholas Denver, not Nicholas Carter," she said, emphasizing Isabella's ex-boyfriend's last name. "You know, why don't you blame that receptionist for giving you the wrong key?"

Isabella's legs moved to the living room, and she dropped herself on the couch. "She's out of this. I'm the one to blame." If she had let Cynthia finish that night, things would still be the same. She cursed herself for entering a stranger's room.

"Neither do you blame yourself," Cynthia replied. "You haven't told me why Nicholas broke up with you yet. Did you tell him about—"

"No, not like that. I didn't," Isabella said, swallowing hard. "That night, he called me and wanted to end things between us." It was even worse. She was still naked, dazing at another Nicholas, when her phone rang. He was the one who covered her body as tears streamed down her cheeks when her ex-boyfriend called to break up with her.

"You should not feel guilty," Cynthia said, clearing her throat. "It could have been worse. You planned on giving yourself to him. And that mistake happened. The universe knew he'd break up with you."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Think of it if you entered his room. You could have given yourself to a man who is not worth—"

"So, you're saying Nicholas Carter was worth it?" Isabella retorted in disbelief.

Laughing, Cynthia bit her bottom lip. "If he's giving you the best s*x, why not?"

"Oh, God. You didn't say that."

"I did, duh. You might not tell me about your first s*x with the wrong Nicholas, but I can sense that he's good in bed." He was. Otherwise, Isabella wouldn't be having wet dreams about him.

"I'm trying to say that one night's mistake was a blessing in disguise," Cynthia said. Why on earth were there two Nicholas in the hotel that night?

"Forget it. You're not going to think of it as I did."

"You know better," Isabella replied, moistening her lips. All this talk with Cynthia had made her forget what to cook for dinner. She should have thrown her out earlier.

"Anyway, we're going to a bachelor's party tomorrow at 8 p.m. And you know what, you're coming with me whether you like it or not." Of course, Cynthia meant it.

"Do I look like I have a choice? I'm starting to imagine your daughter's reaction if you use the same voice with her," Isabella spoke, teasing her. As expected, Cynthia rolled her eyes.

"Craig doesn't want children—"

"Steal his sperm, or get him drunk when you're having s*x with him—"

"It's called lovemaking, my dear, and to answer your suggestion..." she trailed off, fixing her hair. "I have a better idea, so get yourself together. I'll come to get you tomorrow morning. Since you're too stupid to return Nicholas' gift card instead of keeping it."

"You mean Nicholas Denver, right—"

"Lord God. Please tell me you're not doing this on purpose," Cynthia retorted as she massaged her temples. Isabella soon laughed, watching her distressed expression.