Billionaire's Curvy Contract by Annabelle Winters

Author:Annabelle Winters [Winters, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rainshine
Published: 2020-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

4

JANELLE

I feel like I just walked away from my forever, I think as James drops me off at my condo building and waits in the car to make sure I’m not stopped by security or something. I almost want to be stopped, to be forced to turn back to James, slide into his car, nothing but two bags of cash and the open road ahead of us. But before I know it I’m riding up the empty elevator with those bags that feel heavier by the minute.

By the time I get to my apartment, it feels like the weight of this building is pressing down on my chest, and I collapse into my couch and wonder what happened to me . . . to us!

“There was no us,” I say firmly. “I just feel like this because all the adrenaline and other fight-or-flight chemicals are draining from my body. This is just me coming back to reality. This is normal, Janelle. This is your life. Last night felt like Disneyland for a reason: It wasn’t real. It was just fantasy. Play-time. And now it’s over. Grow up, Janelle. You have companies to run. You can’t just decide to have a fucking midlife crisis where you jump into marriage with someone you met a few hours ago.”

Though actually I met James a few months ago—and even before that we’d crossed paths at various conferences or investor meetings. I sit up straight on the couch and furrow my brow as I go back over my memories—memories that are startlingly clear. I didn’t think I’d really noticed James, but clearly my memories tell me otherwise.

“Perhaps this wasn’t the first opportunity James and I had to get together,” I say aloud as I take off my shoes and rub my bare feet. “But maybe it was the last.”

That melancholy thought pulls me all the way back down to my lonely reality, and I’m shocked at how I feel. After all, nothing material has changed in my life. Mother and Father haven’t touched our assets and property, and I get the sense we won’t hear from them again. It almost like I sense they’re disappointed in their kids.

Now I curl up on the couch and hug a pillow as that sinking feeling I got when the sun came up makes me want to cry. I don’t understand it at first, but as I chew on the pillow like a tortured animal, it comes to me: James was right. We are prisoners of our wealth—and we’re also victims of our wealth. Although we never stopped working hard, we lost that hunger we had when we were broke and ambitious. Feed a lioness every day for ten years and she doesn’t wanna hunt anymore, doesn’t want to take the risk of being gored by a wildebeest or trampled by an elephant. She’d rather chill in her cage and eat fly-infested dead meat—not because she’s forgotten how to hunt, but because she’s unconsciously slipped into a life of ease that’s safe and predictable.

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