Page 51 of Triplet Babies for the Billionaire
The harsh pounding in my chest slows, just a little.
It’s the anticipation that’s killing me.
I’m trying to be calm, to push it all out of my head. I focus on the drinks, on the people in front of me.
I just keep hearing the glass shattering, seeing his bulk climbing through the window as the wet, cold wind rushed into the room.
It’s always in the back of my mind.
I just need this shift to be over. I need to feel safe again in Noah’s penthouse.
Just when I think I can breathe a little, Courtney arrives for her shift. She breezes in, her brown eyes scanning the room, her red hair pulled up in a thick bun, and I immediately feel the tension rise in my chest again.
I might not be able to ignore her, but I’m learning to avoid her. I always work hard to not engage with her outrage and pettiness.
Still, she’s worse than usual today, more aggressive. She walks straight up to the register, shoving past me without so much as a glance or a “sorry”.
I feel the sharpness of her movement, the coldness of it, and I force myself to stay calm. I know she’s trying to provoke me, and the last thing I need is another fight with her.
I try to focus on the bottles behind the bar, checking the inventory. I start taking stock, organizing the shelves in a bid to distract myself. As I reach for a bottle in the back, Courtney bumps into me again, this time harder.
Even worse, she still doesn’t even acknowledge it.
“Excuse me,” I mutter under my breath, but she doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. She just slides behind the counter without saying a word, her eyes never meeting mine.
I grab the bottles I need quickly, my fingers gripping them tighter than they should.
I need space. I need to get away from her before I snap.
With a small huff, I turn and make my way toward the back, hoping the bottle storage room will give me a moment of peace. I try to steady my breath as I make my way to the storage room, but my heart is still racing from the interaction with Courtney.
I can feel her eyes on me the entire time I’m walking away, and I know she’s watching, waiting for an opportunity to start something.
I step into the back, the coolness of the room a welcome relief from the heat of the bar. But just as I start to sort the bottles on the shelves, I hear the door swing open behind me.
“Blossom,” Courtney’s voice cuts through the silence, and I turn to face her, already preparing for whatever she has to say. Her expression is cold, calculating. “We need to talk.”
I raise an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest. “What now, Courtney?”
She steps closer, her tone dropping into something more menacing. “You’ve been with Noah, haven’t you? I know you have.” She steps closer still, lowering her voice. “If you don’t leave him, I’ll tell everyone. I’ll tell the whole staff about you two. You think Noah’s going to protect you? He’s got his whole empire to run. He won’t care about you once the truth is out there.”
My heart sinks, the words hitting harder than I expected them to. But I don’t back down. I stand tall, keeping my composure. “Go ahead,” I challenge, my voice steady. “I’ll deal with it.”
Courtney’s eyes narrow, but I see the hesitation in them. “You think you can just keep this secret forever? You’re playing with fire, Blossom.”
I take a deep breath, the anger I’ve been holding in rising to the surface. I pull my phone from my pocket, scrolling quickly to Noah’s number. Without a second thought, I hold it up to her, the screen flashing his name.
“Go ahead,” I say, my voice firm. “Call him. Tell him about me. Let’s see how that goes.”
Courtney freezes for a moment, her face flushing as she sees the contact name on the screen. I don’t back down, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “You think he’ll believe you? You think he’ll care what you say?”
She doesn’t respond right away, but her cheeks burn with the realization that she can’t intimidate me like she thought she could.
Her confidence falters, and I see the shift in her: she’s rattled. She looks at the phone, then back at me, but before she can say anything else, she quickly turns on her heel.
“I’ve got customers to deal with,” she mutters, hustling back toward the bar, the tension in her shoulders still there, but she’s lost her edge.
I watch her leave, a small smile creeping across my face. I don’t have time to let her get to me. She’s not my concern anymore. I have bigger things to deal with.
