SLEEP : A steamy MMx billionaire London Love romance by Sophia Soames

Author:Sophia Soames [Soames, Sophia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-08-30T00:00:00+00:00

19. Jonathan

It was only three in the afternoon, and I was already panicking. There was a lunch bag on the side, which I had opened but then became distracted and forgot about eating. Now I was tugging at my tie, wondering if whatever was in the bag was still safe to eat. It smelled good, whatever it was…or had been. Something sweet and spicy. I looked at the sticky label in my hand, and once again, the panic took over.

I would have to sleep on the sofa tonight, on my own, with side light on. I needed to stop stewing and figure out how to deal with everything. I hadn’t heard from them, but even thinking about them hurt my head. I should probably text or give them a friendly call.

No, I really should not do that. Mabel said they needed to go home and get their head screwed on straight. Ducks. There’d been mentions of ducks.

The smile on my face felt more like a grimace.

Official reminder that you’re having the kids tomorrow night. And let me know what you want for Christmas!

Jenny was my PA. I paid her to know what I wanted for Christmas. I texted her back to that effect and confirmed the babysitting duties. No sooner had I done so than my phone went again—some salesperson whom I had to ask to repeat themselves twice as I could make head nor tail of what they were saying.

I had a special office phone, the sound on it was so loud that people complained they could eavesdrop on my conversations down the road. Anything to be able to hear, but it was embarrassing with other people around. I was glad I was here alone without people laughing at my ineptitude and ignorance when I asked them to repeat themselves. I felt old. Old and grey. Damaged.

The interlude had done nothing for my panic, and I still needed to eat, but my stomach churned as I tried to swallow some kind of yoghurt I found in the fridge. I gave up and made myself another coffee.

Water. I was supposed to have two litres of water a day.

Good grief, as Mabel would say, but I gulped down as much as I could before I stripped out of my clothing and went next door to the gym, ran 5K without breaking a sweat. Then I threw up in the kitchen sink. Mostly water.

My life was governed by fear. Constant, nagging, debilitating fear.

I sat there, freshly showered, on my ridiculous sofa, and watched the lights of London herald the cool evening. Next week was the start of December, Christmas, and my staff would expect me to throw them a party, which I would—an excellent opportunity for me to meet my parents for lunch at their club, exchange the neatly wrapped gifts that Jenny would have organised for me and then come back here and get stone-cold drunk. That was as far as my festive plans went.

My heart was still going nineteen to the dozen.

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