Richard Simmons With A Headband Novels & Stories

Simon raised his brow at him as he replied, “We should use a video of me as a meme for one of our diversions? Are you serious?” William opened his mouth to answer, but the look in Simon’s eyes told him otherwise, so instead he shook his head. “I thought as much,” Simon stated. William grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief as the doors of the elevator opened. “Get that look off your face, William,” Simon warned. As they walked past Emily’s desk, she had the same look on her face, and Simon just shook his head in resolve. “I think we need to get that video down.” Simon said, pulling off his suit.

With that said, she turned to look at the backstage. Surrounded by ten or so international bodyguards, Simon walked to the stage in his black suit. With his fair skin and distinctive facial features, coupled with his dark blue eyes, he looked like an actual prince who walked out of a fairytale. The buttons on his suit were made of black diamonds, and it gave him an air of nobleness and lay-low luxury. An uproar began once he stepped to the stage. “Ahhhh! It’s him; Diamond Prince Simon! The number one chief executive officer in South Africa! The most charming man ever!”

“But I’d like to see you do…whatever it is this thing is!” “Tempting,” he tilts his head as if considering sashaying in front of me in 6” heels, “but I don’t think we know each other well enough for that yet.” Hearing this, Simon coughs on a piece of popcorn, his face turning red as he struggles to regain air. He takes a big gulp of water and holds up his arms. “I’m okay!” he announces. “Congratulations,” Zephyra yawns. “Nobody cares.” Everyone else in the group sniggers.

I let out a bitter laugh, spun on my heel, and headed straight for the hotel. No drama. No tears. Just me and my suitcase, already packed. I rolled it to the airport in silence. Pudding padded along beside me, unusually quiet—like he knew. Security, check-in, done. I sat at the gate, killing time on my phone. Then—bam. Vanessa's post popped up on my feed: [Finally said yes at twenty-eight.] Attached: a shot of her hand flaunting the ring. The ring. The exact one I'd stared at with Shayne in that shop window. Twice.

Paul demands, looking towards the car. “Which one? Leona or Simone” Richard snickers, glaring his eyes at Emmett. “What does Simone think about you proposing to Leona Simmons? Maybe I should…” “Maybe you should do what?” Simone yells, getting out of the car, wearing her spare clothes she keeps in the car. “Simone” Richard gasps, not realising she was with them. “I..um..I want…”

God, it’s been too long since something actually felt light. “What was that bitch’s name again?” he asked between chuckles. “Miss Simmons,” I replied, shaking my head. “She literally said swimmers were all going to hell because it’s a game that shows half… nudity.” I trailed off, smirking at the memory. Richard laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “Yeah… isn’t that crazy?” “Most certainly it is,” I replied, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror. He leaned back, grin wide. “So happy I could finally make you smile.”

"You need to rest." I shook my head wildly. "No. If he wakes up and I'm not here—" Simon’s voice cracked. "He knows you're here. He knows you’re not leaving. But if you collapse, I have to waste time treating you too. Don’t be stupid." I looked at Richard’s pale, bandaged form. I swallowed. "I’ll sit here. That’s all. Just let me sit." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t argue. "Fine. But lean back at least. Try to close your eyes."

"I feel that he is horrible. There surely won't be any good things if he shows up here." Seeing that I was so vigilant, Simon said with a sad look on his face, "Miss Archer, I am so good to you. But you are guarding against me like this, which will make me sad." Today, Simon was wearing a suit that was similar to a basketball suit. And his slightly long hair had been tied up. He slowly walked to the sofa and sat down. He reached out to pick up a piece of sliced watermelon, took a bite of it, and asked, "Do you want to eat the watermelon?"

Lifting an eyebrow at Von. Simon, her mate, kept silent as he studied me. He looked devilish with dark red eyes, golden short hair that he kept running his hand through. A tattoo was barely visible under his suit collar, which made me think of how big it must be. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it looked like a wing. He didn’t really give me a bad vibe, but I didn’t want to just jump into a conversation with him, either. He just stared, like he was trying to figure me out.

The air crackled with tension, as the unspoken history between the two men added layers of complexity to their interaction. As Simon stood there, facing Richard's gaze, he maintained his composure in the face of Richard's taunts, his expression unwavering despite the veiled provocation. He understood that this meeting carried significance beyond the surface banter, and he was determined to navigate it with a newfound humility and sincerity. "You've always had a way with words, Richard," Simon replied, his tone measured and calm. "But let's dispense with the theatrics, shall we? I'm not here at Gabriella's behest, though her wisdom and insight did lead me to some introspection."