The Billionaire’s Psychic Lover

Tracy Collins sighed to herself. Another month had passed, another month she was stuck here, doing this crummy job. She looked at her surroundings. In a fancy restaurant like this, a waitress should be making at least minimum wage. If not for the tips, she’d probably have to declare bankruptcy.

What did I do to deserve this life? The thought haunted her, especially because she knew the exact reason she was stuck here. She had become too comfortable at medical school, maybe going to one too many late night trivia contests instead of slicing open cadavers. School and partying on top of working at this restaurant had caught up to her. Whatever the reason that she failed that last exam, she knew that she had nobody to blame but herself.

Now she was stuck with a gigantic student loan bill. Six figures wasn't even the start of it, and due to the insane laws regarding student loans in these United States, she'd never get rid of them. Just the thought of how long it would be before she could claw her way out of that debt was enough to bring her to tears sometimes.

She grabbed another set of napkins and sighed again. It didn't make her feel any better to have to clean up after a man who spent more money tonight than she could ever dream of. It was just more salt in the wound that was her life.

Tracy knew it wasn't his fault – Mr. Hayes was the consummate professional at all times. The blonde floozy he had brought to dinner, however, had spilled half a bottle of thousand-dollar wine on the two of them, giggling the whole time. She had watched Mr. Hayes laugh it off, but on the inside, Tracy knew that he was fuming, and that this was probably the blonde's last trip to this restaurant.

Of course, everyone in the restaurant knew all about Paul Hayes. Only a couple years older than Tracy, Mr. Hayes ran his own international company. Rumor had it that soon he would be one of the world's youngest self-made billionaires. The mere fact that he chose this restaurant over and over again put it on the map, with everyone from gawkers to businessmen wanting to get a shot at speaking to him.

He loved to throw money around, and he had to be in control. Every time he came in, he insisted that Tracy be his waitress. And why not? she thought. She was the smartest and most competent waitress in the whole restaurant, not to mention one of the prettiest.

He had often hinted, sometimes quite strongly, that Tracy could be one of his floozies if she wanted to be, but Tracy always smiled and easily managed to stop his advances. It’s not that she couldn’t do it, or even that she didn't want to hook up with the most alpha male in the entire city. It was a matter of being able to look at herself in the mirror every day.

And not only that, right now she knew she had the advantage of being a mystery. She had no idea what Mr. Hayes wanted. She knew that if she slept with him and didn’t give him exactly what he wanted, he would be done with her, and probably with this restaurant as well. As much as a one night stand with a man worth that much sounded like fun, she had to think of her financial well-being.

He was her biggest tipper and she couldn’t afford to trade the short-term high life for the long-term tip dollars that he could offer. It was a pragmatic decision that sometimes disgusted her, but she knew that everyone worked for someone else and that she was no different than anyone else who made these types of decisions.

The thing he wanted had to be something that none of these girls would give him, since he was with a different girl almost every time he came in. It surely couldn't be anything that Tracy could offer him, though. She was prettier than average, sure, but nowhere near as hot as some of these girls. If she got a little more desperate for money, though, then perhaps…

She put the thought out of her mind and finished closing down the restaurant. As she waved goodbye to her co-workers, she lost herself in ideas about how to make some fast money. Maybe she could start her own restaurant…

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't even see the car barreling toward her. She didn't see him weaving, or hear the thunk of tires as he hit the curb before going back down the street the first time. When she did happen to look up, she didn't even have time to scream as he hopped the curb to where she stood. Tracy tried to jump out of the way, but her head hit the car’s windshield and she tumbled over the top of the car. For a moment, she flew like an ungraceful bird before crash landing. She lost consciousness as she hit the sidewalk.

The driver never even slowed down to see if she was okay.