45 DAYS WITH MR COLD BILLIONAIRE

ARI'S POV:

"Dump his ass, Ari. I'm telling you Nathan is cheating on you."

I glared at my best friend who sat on my bed, urging me to break up with the love of my life. My boyfriend of six years.

"Mary, I called you here to help me pick out a beautiful dress for my date with Nathan, not to try and spoil my mood."

I have planned for weeks.....no months for this. Today was Nathan's birthday. I had a surprise for him. A very big surprise and I needed to be in a good mood for that.

Yet Mary wasn't helping. "I know I always wanted you to find someone and be in love. Just not him. I told you I saw him with that girl who is always insulting you at the cafe. What's her name?" She waved her fingers in the air like it would somehow summon the answer.

"Angela?" I offered, confusion etched on my face.

There's no way Nathan would do such. He knows how much Angela bullies and insults me. He was the one who said I should stay away from troublemakers like her. He hates her.

But that was exactly the name Mary was trying to remember. "Yes. Angela. The blond hair, fake body and pretentious behavior."

I closed my wardrobe door loudly, spinning to Mary whose eyes widened at my behavior. "Please Mer. Will you stop it? This is Nathan we are talking about. Nathan that has always been with me in this low moment of my life. I love him, Mer. And I'm going to marry him."

She sighed tiredly. "You're still planning on going through with the marriage proposal. Isn't he supposed to...."

"Anyone can propose, Mary. It doesn't matter as long as we are in love. Which we are. Thanks for asking."

Mary, as always sensed I was getting too agitated, stood up and crossed over to meet me, taking me into her embrace as I let out a small sob. "I'm sorry."

Sniffling, I replied. "I know you have my best interest at heart, I appreciate it but sometimes can't you be a little bit less blunt. I'm already nervous about how this proposal would go."

She gently removed me from her arms, cradling my face in her hands this time. "And I pray it goes very smoothly. So I can be happy that my best friend is finally off the market."

__________________

'The number you are calling is switched off. Your call is being moved to a voicemail."

I cut off the call.

My thumb hovered over the screen, trembling.

Two hours.

Two hours sitting at a small, draped table at Le Clair, the most exclusive restaurant in the city. A place where the air smelled like cash and the waiters all held judgement in their eyes that says you don't belong here.

I’d spent months saving for this. Skipped meals, walked instead of taking the bus, taken more shifts than I can handle. All for tonight. For Nathan.

For us.

“Another glass of water, ma’am?” The waiter, in his tailored black suit, appeared beside me. His smile was professional, polished, but his eyes flicked to the untouched second setting across from me. To the empty chair.

“No, thank you,” I whispered, managing to give him a tight smile.

He nodded and moved away from my table, and to others who will really need his assistance. I could feel the stares, soft and pitying, from the other diners. The woman in an expensive glittering gown worth more than a year's salary, two tables over, glanced at me four times and murmured back to her partner.

She doesn't have to say it. I knew what she saw: a girl wearing the one decent dress she owned, her eyeliner beginning to smudge, her lipstick slowly getting wiped off from two hours of biting her lips.

My phone screen lit up. A notification. For a second, my heart lifted in a stupid hope until I saw what it was.

NATHAN❤️❤️: I'm sorry, Ari. I can't make it to today's plan. Let's meet tomorrow.

My stomach dropped as I closed the notification. Eighteen missed calls. The last text I’d sent was three hours ago: “At Le Clair. Table by the window. Can’t wait to see you.”

Maybe he was held at work. Nathan's boss was a devil. He always stressed Nathan out, and added more hours to his original work hours.

I can surprise him. The dinner date failed but there's the hotel. I can just urge him to come over to the hotel. So I sent a quick text, asking him to do that.

I signaled the waiter. He was beside me a moment later. “Will you be ordering, or…?”

“Just the check, please.”

I paid with a card and walked out of the restaurant, a cake box held tightly against my chest. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going as I bumped hard into someone.

I let out a pained yelp, holding the box to prevent it from falling before I looked up. And that was when I saw him.

Not Nathan.

A tall man in a dark suit. He looked down at me with a cold, detached expression, his lips a thin, stern line, and his eyes. Beautiful deep blue like the sea during the night.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, my voice trying to loosen itself.

He didn’t reply. He just stepped around me and walked toward the restaurant doors like my words didn't mean anything. I was used to it

Mostly that wasn't the focus of my attention. I lifted my hand and hailed a cab. One stopped. I got in, holding the cake box on my lap.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

I don't know what got over me. “623 Westview Terrace,” I recited Nathan's home address instead.

The further the cab drove, the more I could feel chills run down my body, I have no idea what it was, probably the evening breeze.

The cab stopped. I paid and got out, waiting until it drove away. I turned and looked at Nathan’s house.

Even from the sidewalk, I could hear it; music, pounding through the walls. The front windows flashed with bright, colored lights. Shadows moved behind the blinds.

A party was going on.

I walked up to the front door. The music was so loud I could feel it through the wood. I knocked once, twice. No one came.

I tried the knob. It turned. The door wasn't locked.

I pushed it open and stepped inside.

It was worse inside. The music was too loud. People were everywhere. Crowded in the hall, spilling out of the living room, drinks in hand. It was no surprise. Nathan had always been the popular one.

I walked over to one of his friends. He was pressed against the wall, kissing a girl like he was trying to suck her in.

"Hey!" I shouted over the music. "Do you know where Nathan is?"

He turned toward me, staggering. He bumped into the girl, then let out a loud, sour belch.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust and waited for him to answer.

He blinked, his eyes unfocused, and slurred, "Dunno. Prob'ly bangin' some bitch upstairs."

My stomach dropped. "You're lying."

He gave me a sour look. "Then go check for yourself. And stop spoilin' my mood." He turned back to the girl, laughing against her neck. "Fuckin' pick-me bitch"

I turned on my heel and pushed through the crowd toward the stairs. I avoided stumbling bodies and sloshing drinks, my grip tight on the cake box.

I stopped at the first closed door. My heart was beating hard in my ears.

Please don't be true. Please don't be true.

I opened it. An empty bedroom.

I moved to the next door. My hand was shaking.

I pushed it open.

What I saw made my whole body go numb. The cake box slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud. They didn't hear it.

They didn't hear anything over the sound of his grunts and her moans.

And no. It wasn't the blonde haired, fake body pretender.

The moans belonged to my best friend.