Billionaire's Bed by luisavilaok (best color ereader TXT) 📖

“Hey, hello… I think we owe each other this lunch.”

I agree to come to lunch with Joshua because I need to make a decision and be at peace with myself after the inconveniences involved in my attempt to take Leonardo's word for it. I don't know this man, I have no idea what he wants to do with me and, what is even worse, he has not answered the call either. What did he or his wife intend by sending me the paintings? I'm still in doubt as to whether to cancel that. It will be sent out today according to the email I received and I'll be receiving it in the morning, I'll keep those paintings because they're worth a fortune...okay, I'm not a thief, I don't think I'll do it, but it's not like I have untainted power over it, if it's in my company 40 percent of those paintings belong to me.

Joshua agrees to sit down, however before he does, he envelops me in a very strong hug during the lunch break he has in the cafeteria. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable, especially since he's a little sweaty. Joshua doesn't smell like Italian perfume but more like supermarket deodorant with some perspiration and coffee pot oil. But even so I have affection for him, it’s because he maintains an athletic body or because I like his green eyes like moss.

“Iggi, thanks for coming.”

“Don't… don't worry. I'm fine.”

Already once he sits in front of me, he leaves the reheated food on the table and watches me from the other side in front.

I feel my chest swelling from having to recoil from the yelling and the last argument we had on the phone, while now I come back to him feeling like a complete stranger, or something like a bad person.

I never wanted to make him feel bad, seeing him here making an effort in the same way that he made an effort every morning to work, to leave the house, to collaborate in keeping accounts, maybe we did it from a very young age, I don't know, but he was always by my side. 

The turkey sandwich smells good, I break it looking at the cheese gratin, he eats with the strings of cheese hanging from his mouth and offers me apple juice while he leaves the blueberry one as usual whenever we go out to order something.

“How are you? How was your morning?” he asks me.

“Complicated, many problems… “

“That's why you decided to see me. Like before, when things got complicated, you said that talking to me or having lunch together helped you regain concentration.”

“You're right.”

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You see, it turns out that the guy I cuckolded you with is married and his wife has an Art foundation from which he has sent paintings to my business, because that guy is now the CEO who will lead the Board of Directors and I went from being an owner to having a boss

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," I admit.

He just nods and takes another bite of his sandwich.

I do the same with mine.

"How have you been?"

He sighs, takes a shot of the blueberry juice, and tells me,

"I'm not going to lie to you, at first I was crying my eyes out, but then the boys came home and we were drinking and playing PlayStation and I told them about you and what happened.”

“What?”

"Don't worry, I just told them we fought. I didn't tell them anything that could make you feel bad or lacking, you know.”

“I… Okay.”

Should I thank him for not making me look like a bitch in front of his friends? Hmm, I'm not sure.

But it leaves me somewhat embarrassed because I have no friends with whom to talk about what is happening to me. Since my work and my study began to demand a lot of responsibility from me, as well as life as a couple, I had to put aside other aspects of my life which I'm starting to think was a serious mistake.

"You should also go out with friends," she tells me as if he read my thoughts.

“You think?”

“Of course. It will be good for you. You were moving away from your group over time. They will be glad to have you back.

He gives me a smile in his typical “everything will be fine” way, but I wish I could believe in that, have the same faith.

“You don't know them, they are spiteful.”

“They will know how to understand you, they have seen the success you have achieved.”

"They're also a little bit envious."

"Then they weren't friends, probably."

“I could go out with Lydia, although that would affect our working relationship after she sees me drunk. With what face will I challenge her if something doesn't go as it should?

‘You can have a work dinner with the whole team.”

“We are only three people.”

"Not counting…"

He stops.

Leonardo.

He’s right. We're not just three anymore. In fact, with the signing involved and with the sum of suppliers and distributors that are incorporated from its entry, I'm not even sure how many or who we are in total.