Chapter 4

Theodore's P.O.V

If there was a single word that I could use to describe my life, perfect was definitely not it. In fact, my life was far from it. Sure, everybody knew me as the rich, successful and powerful young man from England who had somehow risen to fame. Hell, I was even on the Forbes list of wealthy individuals.

Now, I don't love to brag believe me, but when other people do it on my behalf, I don't quite mind. At the end of the day, I am just that same kid from East London, who was singlehandedly raised by a hardworking and tenacious single mother. I know what you're probably wondering, what about my father? Well, I never got to know him. He died a few months before I was born. I hadn't even seen a picture of him in my life so I had no idea what he looked like. Those who did know him say I look like him a lot.

Life wasn't always this rosy for me. Growing up dirt broke, I had to get a job when I was really young in order for me to help my mum with bills. Due to my brilliant mind, I managed to get a scholarship at Oxford, did a double major in business administration and engineering. Once done with all those academics, I got a loan and started my own things first off in the UK. Before I knew it, I had gone international and in under two years. I still pinch myself every now and then to remind myself that this isn't some elaborate dream; that this is actually my life.

As fate would have it, I fell in love along the way. And bloody hell did I fall hard, not to mention dangerously. If I could exchange all my money for a chance to go back in time and avoid that unfortunate event, trust me I would. Love isn't worth it. All it is good for was heart break. And something that I've come to terms with is that my heart is irrevocably broken.

It simply can't be mended.

Right now, I was in Malibu, one of the cities that I have my many businesses in. This place was indeed lovely but I could never bring myself to move to the States. I had a soft spot for Britain, that little island with the dreary weather. But that also meant that I had to from time-to-time jet between Europe, Asia and the States every now and again.

I had just wrapped up my mid-morning meeting with a small company dealing in steel that had caught my attention when my phone went off. And surprise surprise, it was none other than Yolanda Heinz. She was a good friend of mine, and yes, we have fooled around a couple of times. I let her know that I wasn't looking for a serious commitment, to which she was very disappointed about (serious, her ego was so massive, and she thought she was such a great catch) but she understood. But that did not stop her from trying anything and everything to capture my attention.

Grinding my teeth in annoyance, I answered in a bright tone. "Yolanda, darling. So good to hear from you." Not.

"Theo babe, how are you? Do you want to grab lunch with me at Ooh La Food? I'm actually on my way up to your office. See you in a sec," she chirped happily and then ended the call. Great, she was already here which meant that I couldn't get out it. Looking behind me, I cursed audibly at my predicament. I was some thirty stories up in the air, so jumping out of the window was decidedly not an option.

When the door burst open, I put on the most counterfeitly believable grin I could muster. "Yolanda," I beamed at her as she strutted in in her impossibly high stiletto heels. There was no denying that Yolanda was indeed beautiful but in a villainous and unrealistic way. I guess that was another reason to add to list as to why I could never be serious about her.

Once she got to where I was behind my desk, she enveloped me in an uncomfortable hug, making sure she smashed her huge breasts flush against my chest. Scandalous, I know. Hesitantly returning the gesture, she squealed and then let me go. "It feels like I haven't seen you in ages! How have you been?" she asked, perhaps genuinely. I couldn't quite tell because her face was more or less caked in makeup, as usual.

"I've been busy with work, nothing out of the blue. Had an important deal I wanted to land so I came to Malibu. I'll be leaving later today though, as everything has been finalised. There are some pending issues I left in London," I told her, sounding remorseful for my abrupt departure. I hope it sounded believable. She looked like she wanted to cry after hearing this, so to distract her I started showering her with compliments. "You're looking amazing, by the way. The colour blue looks good on you."

Her grey eyes lit up in delight and she did a twirl for me. "I know, it was a gift from Gorgio Armani for the show I did in Milan recently. Imagine my excitement when I got it this morning!" Yolanda is a world-famous model. She'd been cat walking for several years and she was damn good at it too. "Enough about me," she waved off flippantly. "Let's go out to lunch as a mini farewell. My treat," she sidled up to me, making her indelicate perfume invade my nostrils.

Groaning internally, I nodded. "Okay, let me just wrap up some things here before we head out." With that, I tidied up my working space, left some final instructions to some of my employees and then left the building with her. Sliding into my Porsche, I instructed the driver to take us to Ooh La Food. That was literally the most stupid name anyone could possibly come up with for a restaurant but yet again, what did I know? That certainly didn't stop it from being popular.

Once there, the driver opened the door for us and we jumped out, and entered the establishment. I didn't quite have fond memories of this place. For some unknown reason, every time I came here with Yolanda she always ended up in hysterics over the slightest things. And I bet all the employees and some frequent goers already knew us. We were infamous at this point, and I'm pretty sure I'd caught wind of some bizarre speculation that Yolanda and I were an unstable, toxic couple. The hell we are.

Spotting a lovely seat by a large window giving a scenic back drop, with Yolanda wrapped firmly around my arm of course. We took our seats and began to scan the menu. A few minutes later, somebody came to take our order.

"Good afternoon, my name is Maya and I'll be serving you today. What would you like to have?" the individual asked. I hadn't looked up from my menu, not having decided what I wanted. And I wasn't surprised that Yolanda hadn't decided either. She always does this, making me order for her. But today I didn't have any energy for it.

Shutting the menu, I lifted my head to the waitress. I had never seen her before, and there was something different about her. She was rather ravishing, with her light brown skin, light brown eyes and exotic features. I'd be lying if I said I didn't ogle her in the tight fitting white shirt and black skirt for longer than necessary. After she'd taken our orders, Yolanda scoffed and slapped my forearm, bringing out of my momentary creepiness.

She rolled her eyes. "She's not even that pretty," she droned irritated, inspecting her manicured hands. It was true, she wasn't pretty. She was bloody gorgeous; easily the most natural stunner I'd set my eyes upon in a long time. The richer I got, the more I was surrounded by wanna-be barbies. So, when I'd set my eyes on a genuine beauty, guaranteed I'd make it count.

Cool it, idiot. You're going back to London today remember? I chastised myself mentally. I got lost in whatever rubbish was flying out of Yolanda's mouth, pretending to be utterly enraptured by. About twenty minutes later, I spotted the gorgeous waitress emerging from the kitchen, juggling two trays. Dammit, I was being creepy again. To save myself from embarrassment, I pretended to not have seen her but what happened only moments later was unexpected.

It all happened so fast, the plates sailing through the air ad dumping the contents all over me and Yolanda. What the hell, I hissed lowly feeling the soup and water soak through my three-piece suit. Just like every time I've been in this godforsaken restaurant, something that would no doubt get Yolanda pissed had to always happen. FML.

"You stupid, clumsy peasant!" she had all but screamed dramatically. And it all went downhill from there. Clearly, the waitress had not done this on purpose but I was still sort of angry that she hadn't been really watching where she had been going. Back and forth arguing ensued amongst her, Yolanda and some chubby bald man, until I came up with a solution.

"I have a solution," I spoke up and they all directed their gazes to me. I took out my pocket handkerchief and tried to wipe away all the disgusting food from my upper body. "You will come work for me in order to pay off the damages."

That was reasonable right? Service in exchange for reparations. But no, Yolanda wasn't having any of it. Her face contorted in rage as she squeezed the hell out of my arm. "You can't possibly mean that! I don't want this woman to work for you. I don't want her near you-,"

I cut her off immediately with a blank look. "Well, you know damn well that she can't replace your clothing. As for mine, not even close. And you said she needs to pay for her mistake, right? So, what's the problem?" I said coldly and she flinched at my icy tone. I turned back to the waitress. "Pack your bags, we will be leaving for England," and with that I up and walked out of the building.

Outside, I pulled out my phone and thank God it wasn't wet. Unlocking it, I dialled a number. When I held up the phone to my ear, Yolanda came scrambling out too. Just as she was about to open her big fat mouth, I held a hand up so silence her. After three rings, the person picked up. "Mr. Duke, a pleasure to hear from you. How can I be of service?" he said politely.

"How do you do, Quentin. I need a favour from you. Can you pull up all the possible information on one Maya who works at Ooh La Food here in Malibu. I need to know what her last name is, how old she is, where she lives, who she's dated-," Yolanda shot me an inquisitive look at that one. "-Everything. I need it in an hour."

Quentin paused briefly before he spoke again. "I'll see what I can do." Smirking at this, I bid him farewell and ended the call. Next, I texted my driver to come pick us up.

Yolanda huffed and threw her hands up in surrender. She looked utterly ridiculous with her wet and stained dress sticking to her creamy skin. It was almost comical but if I had dared laughed, she would have my head on a stick. "Calm down, Yolanda. It's all taken care of. I can pay Giorgio to make you another one if you like," I told her calmly but she clicked her tongue in disagreement.

"That stupid woman did it on purpose! And now you just are going to jet off to London with her? You don't even know her, Theo! She could be a serial killer for all you know. That was a dumb move, even for you," she sniffed indignantly and I chuckled.

"Of course, she's a killer. I mean did you see her legs?" I retorted sarcastically. But somewhat truthfully. Her legs went on forever...shut up Theodore! The car pulled up to the curb and the driver got out and opened the door for us. Taking out my phone once more, I began to go through my emails when Yolanda spoke.

"This will not end well, Theo," she warned sagely, eyeing me with her intense grey eyes.

And somehow, I knew she was bloody right.

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Hi pips. First chapter of the week. And from Theodore's P.O.V too! I don't know about you guys but this guy cracks me up! 😂

Anyways, I genuinely hope this story is enjoyable. I do this for you guys' entertainment because you mean the world to me, and the fact that I love writing so damn much!

See you later this week,

~Deetronite. ❤️