The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

The words “my husband” soothed Isaac, but anxiety quickly took hold again. He couldn’t shake the feeling that seniors always had a knack for falling for the juniors, for example, William.

After exchanging pleasantries, Hugh turned to Brittany with a friendly grin. “Bri, let’s swap digits. We should grab some grub sometime.”

Brittany jotted down her number and helped a completely sloshed Charles into the car.

“Take care, Hugh,” she said as Isaac shut the car door and took his place behind the wheel, casting a lingering glance at Hugh before driving away.

Brittany, sitting in the backseat, kept a watchful eye on Charles, making sure Charles didn’t topple over in the drunken stupor.

Once home, she ushered Charles into the guest room. There was an unspoken rule about propriety between men and women, and Brittany couldn’t very well undress him. With no one else in the house, and Isaac certainly not the one to help Charles out, she thought to call for the housekeeper. But Isaac stopped her.

“Men can go a night without a shower. No big deal. Let’s head to bed,” he said, steering her back to their room.

Once inside, Isaac wasted no time peeling off her clothes and nibbling at her earlobe. “You and that guy from tonight, you two close?”

“We worked a part-time job together in college, Brittany replied truthfully. “After graduation, he moved to Craneville, and we lost touch.”

Isaac’s dissatisfaction was evident. “Try to keep your distance from him.”

She had to laugh at his possessiveness. “You’re overthinking it. Hugh’s had a girlfriend since our college days. They’re probably married by now. And I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, you know.”

With a grunt, Isaac wished he could meld her into his very being, then they could be together forever.

“That’d be for the best.” Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

After their late-night escapades, Brittany wanted to check on Charles but was firmly held back by Isaac. “If you’re not sleepy, we could go for another round.”

Brittany always worrying about another man, was that really okay?

Exhausted beyond belief, Brittany didn’t dare speak another word and snuggled into Isaac’s chest. “Okay, I won’t go.”

Content at last, Isaac held her close as they drifted off to sleep.

Charles woke up to searing pain, her head throbbing like it was about to explode. She staggered downstairs, drawn to the sound of someone in the kitchen.

“Mind fixing me some honey water?” she groaned, not realizing this wasn’t her house.

Soon, a crisp voice replied, “Honey water coming right up.”

Charles took the glass and gulped it down, the sweetness easing her misery. Only then did she notice the voice didn’t sound right. Squinting through puffy eyes, she saw a little boy about six or seven years old, dressed in a white shirt, suspenders, and a bow tie, looking up at her curiously.

“Who are you?” Daniel was intrigued by the stranger in his house.

“Who are you?” Charles blurted, startled.

Where was she? Who was this kid? Why was she here?

Daniel set the glass down on the coffee table. This is my house. Where did you come from?”

The realization hit Charles like a ton of bricks; she had blacked out the night before.

“Is your mom Brittany?”

“Yep.”

Daniel sat down, a Go board laid out in front of him, picking up pieces and starting a game with himself.

Charles was baffled. “How can you play Go alone?”

“I play with both hands, using different strategies.”

Daniel was surrounded by books, mostly math Olympiad puzzles.

“All these books yours?”

“Yeah, I just do them when I’m bored.”

Charles, never the academic type, was speechless at the child’s Versailles-style brag.

The next morning, Brittany found a hungover Charles slumped on the sofa, the picture of despair.