Chapter 5

SABRINA 

It's been so long since I've been so conflicted and anxious, like I was yesterday.

years even.

I crossed my leg under me as I sat on my office chair, pulling my chair closer to my table so that my chest hit the corner of it, before I opened one of my cabinets and pulled out my black journal from it.

I let out a sigh as I opened the book, stopping to see when I last wrote in it.

Three months ago.

I've always been so good at writing down my feelings and trying to process them, as recommended by my last therapist, but my life has been so caught up with so much shit that I forgot about it.

Now? I'm pumped with all kinds of emotions that shouldn't even be working together.

I opened a new page and picked up a pen, ready to write, but my pen hovered over the line.

What was I supposed to write?

Dear journal, two days ago I had sex with a hot man in the club to get revenge on my ex for cheating on me with someone I could lay down my life for, and then the hot man turned out to be my womanizing, uptight boss, and when I told him this couldn't happen again, he turned into some kind of werewolf in all those W*****d stories and claimed me as his.

That was the dumbest and scariest thing that has happened to me in the past three years, and of all the horrendous things that have happened to me, that was saying a lot.

So why, in the name of all things holy, was my underwear wet when I bolted out of the boardroom?

I didn't know what terrified me more; the man I just met promised to give me only his or the fact that I liked it.

I taped my pen on the journal, unsure of what I'm supposed to think at this point.

Maybe my head is screwed up from the stress of the past few days.

I let out a sigh, putting down my pen, closing the black book, and sliding it away from me. Exhaustion from the lack of sleep took over me, and I closed my eyes and pressed my head on the desk, reflecting on the past few days.

Who is this Ciro guy anyway?

Sure, he was my boss, and I knew his reputation from around the office when I first joined the company, but I never cared to find out more information about him.

Companies are greedy, and CEOs tend to have a stick up their asses. All I was there for was to work, get my salary, and come home at the end of the day or stay at Mike's house if my day was fucking stressful.

But there's a first time for everything.

I shoved my chair backward and stood up before heading out of the office and walking up the stairs to my room.

As I flung the door open, I spotted my MacBook on the bed and made a grab for it, sitting down on my bed as I opened it.

I felt like a creepy stalker doing this, but if I'm going to get claimed, I might as well know who this man really is and how Mike ties into the whole ideal. I went to G****e and typed in William Ciro, my belly doing flips as I watched the logo roll before it opened up. I was met with an image of him in a jacketless suit.

Just like I saw him in the club.

I gulped, shaking that sinful image from my mind.

'William Ciro, number 4 on the list of the top 10 billionaires in the world!'

'William, one of the richest, hottest bachelors in the USA'

I rolled my eyes at the articles and scrolled down, looking for some information that might be of value to me and could maybe answer my question.

As I continued down, skipping all the endless rolls of headlines worshiping his image and his money, I couldn't help but wonder where the infatuation with him could be coming from.

'William is a 36-year-old hardworking, handsome, and extremely rich billionaire. But he hasn't always been like this. Learn more about how heart-drop bachelors past!'

Intrigued, I clicked on it.

'We all know the rich single billionaire that all the ladies are dying to get their hands on, but it would surprise many that he wasn't raised this way.

Even though we don't know much about our beloved billionaire, what we do know is that he was raised by his allegedly abusive father, who, according to police reports, killed his mother in a drunken rage.

Oh, my god.

My hand found its way to my lips, a sunken feeling finding a way to my belly.

It is a shame that I understand what that feels like.

'After being sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Our young William and his elder brother Ezekiel were left in dreaded foster care.

After years of jumping from one foster care to another, William and Ezekiel started the company that is now known as Sky-High Enterprise.

After almost 10 years of building the company to the faint that it is and making a name for themselves as a book worthy story of rags to riches, Ezekiel Ciro made a heartbreaking decision to retire from the company at the age of 45 and start a life with his beautiful wife, who has been with him since the start of the company.

And our heart trope billionaire? He's still going strong as the co-founder and CEO of Sky-High Enterprise, which continues to grow from strength to strength.

I sigh, closing my eyes to process the information that I was just given.

I felt horrible about how he was raised, and as a victim too, I understand how horrible it was. But I still have a lot of questions.

Mostly about how Mike ties to all this.

I opened my eyes, ready to click exit, when my eyes caught the image of William with his hands around someone's shoulder, a wild smile plastered on his face as he gave a thumbs up to the camera.

But my main interest was the person next to him.

I know I've met the man before, but it wasn't answering in my brain from where. I stared at the image for a full minute, but it just didn't click.

Until it did.

I let out an audible gasp, my eyes widening in disbelief as I read their names beneath the image.

'William and Ezekiel, the International Business Conference, 2001'

No, there's no way.

I exited the article, the sound of my blood pumping ringing in my ear as I typed in Mikel Ciro and William Ciro into my G****e, praying that my hunch wasn't true.

I bit my lips as the results pulled up, and my eyes landed on the third picture.

I opened it and was greeted by William on the red carpet of the Grammy Awards, beaming with a smile as he squatted down next to what I assumed was 10-year-old Mike, his face stretched with smile and excitement as he gave two thumbs to the camera.

'William taking his nephew to see his favorite artist, Beyonce, win the Grammy.

I let out a shaky breath, closing the laptop.

I fuck my ex's uncle.

I fucked with my ex's uncle, who's my boss.

Holy shit.

I ran my hand through my hair and left it there, my brain overloading with the information.

I let out a startled grasp as the doorbell rang, almost falling out of my bed.

What the hell?

I got up from my bed and opened the door, taking cautious steps down the stairs as my brain racked if I was expecting anybody or orders, but I turned up empty. As I approached the front door, I looked out the peephole but was met with nothing.

Confused and a bit worried, I took a deep breath of courage and cracked the door open to see if someone was hiding behind the door, waiting for me.

I met with nobody, so I swung my door open.

There wasn't a soul or car on the street, leaving me confused.

I ran my hand through my hair, chuckling to myself for being so anxious for nothing. I really need a spa day. As I was about to close the door, my eyes glared down, and I saw the black rose on my door.

What in the-

I glared at it, for I don't know how long, before I bent down and picked it up, and a note that I didn't notice before slipping off the rose and falling to the ground. I picked it up, my hand shaking as I turned the back of the black note, and the words I saw made me drop the rose as my breath caught in my throat.

"If you want to know more about me, you can just ask me, Piccolo Fiore."