I Am Love, Mr. Billionaire!

“A blind date?”, asks the journalist, Alyssa is her name. She jumps right on it, without hesitation she bites into my slip, alert as hell.

“That can be arranged, no problem”.

She chuckles as if she just won the lottery, already envisioning a creamy story. I could hit myself on the forehead, I feel so stupid. These vultures are always out for anything to make life difficult for celebrities like me, only to bring in a hot topic for their medium.

“Aahhh, it was just a joke. The man is married, and I don’t think his wife will appreciate her husband going on a blind date with a beautiful single woman. If you were in her place, you wouldn’t want that either, would you? I don’t want to be a homewrecker”.

I try to limit the damage, knowing beforehand that it will be in vain.

She’s got her teeth deep in this soap and won’t let go. Sensational headlines not only benefit her

magazine, but also earn her a hefty commission.

Like a rooky, I fell in her trap. And right at this moment when I’ve decided I should stay away from

Dordrich. “Well, I don’t think so. His wife knows he’s a public figure and exposed to a lot. We’ll explain to her what’s going on.”

“And what exactly is going on?”, I counter back. Because the purpose of the blind date is not yet clear to me. Maybe this is my escape. I thought!

Devilish as she is, she plays out her plan perfectly.

“We have a segment on one of our TV channels where we link celebrities for a good cause.

The sponsors of the program then donate to a charity organization aimed at women and children. Celebrities like to participate in this because it means extra exposure and improves their image. I’m sure that you and Mr. Fellogan like to do something for underprivileged women and children,” she increases the pressure on me to keep me from slipping out of her trap, and emotionally blackmails me into joining.

She knows I regret my unfortunate joke, but that is just what those journalists like the most. They

just make their living from other people’s misery.

I take a deep breath and throw my personal card on the table, in a final attempt to get rid of my appearance in this useless show. “I don’t actually date married men. I don’t really want to be connected to them, is my personal code,” I say, shaking my head. She smiles as she looks at me intently.

“Loraine,” she emphasizes my name, “Why do I have the feeling that your objection is with Mr. Fellogan and not with the fact that he is married? Everyone knows that these programs are fictitious, and the date only serves social causes. You protest too loudly. Is there more between you and Mr. Fellogan?”.

“Hey, don’t take this too far. I saw the man for the first time last night. I don’t do any business with his companies either. And like I said, I don’t have affairs with married men, at least as far as I do get involved in relationships,” I strongly deny. She doesn’t elaborate on it, but I can see from her face that she won’t

stop there.

“That’s taken care of. I’ll send you an official invitation to the show. Just make sure you’re there when we need you. It was your own proposal, by the way”, she packs up, clearly pleased with the result achieved with this interview. As she walks down the hall to the front door, I see her looking meaningfully at the

roses. She bends over and inhales deeply on one. Deliberate and provocative.

She then turns and looks at me with a beaming dubious face. “Beautiful, expensive roses”, she responds with raised eyebrows. We greet each other

and she leaves, whistling. That bitch.

Troubles ahead, I know right away. But for later care, I think.

As I walk to my room, I can smell the roses all over the house, they totally upgrade my mood. After a

final inspection of my make-up and clothing, I walk back to the kitchen where I store my car keys. Today I choose my latest Bugatti sports, superfast, enough to blow the wind through my system.

I grab the keys and decide to go for a joyride before reporting to work.

I jump behind the wheel and let the heavy engine run dominating. When I hit the accelerator, it roars like a bull, impatient to go full force. With a smooth drive, I am out of my garage, heading

for the highway. I quickly run the road, releasing my emotions until a relaxed feeling takes over my body.

After an hour long ride, I turn into the underground of my business premises and park my car in the space reserved especially for me. When I’m out, I arrange my pitch black hair in the car window, a daily routine of mine.

Suddenly I feel like I’m being watched. I don’t panic at all, I know that all areas in this building are heavily secured and as the CEO, the guards keep a close eye on my arrival. So if anyone is present in this parking lot right now, it must be a top staffer arriving at the same time and it’s therefore safe. To be sure, I look around and see no one. Without any fear, I grab my coat and bag and walk to the elevator with my hips swaying.

On my way to my office, I greet some workers and chat here and there with some of them. As a CEO you have to appreciate your personnel if you want to get the best out of them, and I already see how happy they are with my personal contact. Such a small investment for a big result.

When I enter my office, to my great surprise, I see ROSES! Lots of them. The same as delivered

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