The Billionaire's Fake Fiance

Chapter Twenty Two

Author's Note : Hi there. I've done a technical mistake in the previous chapters. In chapter twenty, I've written that Rich was 20 when he last performed, whereas I wrote Jean was 15, creating a massive and illogical age difference. Therefore, I have edited the chapters that Jean was 17 and Rich was 20 which presently makes them 23 and 26 respectively. Thank you.

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Richard felt like a fucking idiot.

Well, that's what he was, precisely.

He came back to his cabin with quiet steps as he noticed Jean sitting on her desk and writing some notes. Not wanting to face her, he hurried into his cabin and shut the door with a resounding thud. He hunched down on the couch at the other corner of his cabin and rested his head back on the cushion.

"Sir, I need--" Grace entered, shaking him up from his rest. "Oh, I'm so sorry for disturbing you. Aren't you feeling well?" She approached him, bending down to check whether he had fever.

Her palm rested on his forehead and he breathed, "I'm okay, Miss Clarkson. What do you need?"

"I just need to submit these documents for approval. Jean has sent them." She handed it over to him and he took it, without any hesitation.

He jerked up from his state of rest, not by Grace's arrival, but by the realisation that Jean herself didn't come to him, and instead, had sent Grace. "What? Where is she?"

"She's, she's working on the website." She mumbled, pulling out thick strands of her blonde hair. "Can I get you anything? Any medicine or warm water?"

"No, no." He shook his head vehemently, her presence making his mood sour.

She nodded and left, shutting the door on her way out. He got up from the couch, pacing back and forth, his forehead breaking out in cold sweat. Something unnerved him, stripping out all his manly courage and leaving him in a quivering mass of raging hormones; he felt restless, the kind that left you speechless and stunted your movement.

It was what he had felt when his bandmates had ditched him for that pathetic female judge. One of his bandmates had a sexual relationship with her, he didn't know which one. But he had heard them talk about it. It was when they had been preparing for the last event of the competition. Shrugging off the pain that had gathered around, he slowly tried to remove the memories of what they had actually done with him.

Without wielding his sane sense, he dashed outside, making his way to the Marketing Department. Oh, he really needed to be cool. Anger surged in his body as he emerged his face from the door, "Miss Parker, in my office, now."

Jean toppled up from her desk and nodded her head. He went back to his cabin. Pacing back and forth for five minutes straight, he heard the clicking sound of the doorknob. "May I come in?"

Her voice made him turn around so hastily that his head reeled. He gripped the handle of the nearby chair and stabled himself. "Oh, Rich, are you fine?" He saw her run towards him, holding his arms tightly. For a second, all his anguish flushed down the gutter and he could see worry swelling up in her blue eyes.

He had mentally noted what he would tell her for not talking to him, or giving him the documents with her own hand. But all his retorts and complaints died down in his throat before they could come out and create any chaos. She made him sit on his chair, and her hands never left his firm shoulders.

She rested her palm on his forehead. "You're burning up." She felt her skin churn with the heating sensation.

He had fever? No wonder he had been feeling so mellow and angry. After she had left him in the restaurant, he had ordered tons of food but had barely eaten anything. He had felt so emotionally pathetic and useless that he had stood in the sun for a long time, just thinking. And then he had almost immediately entered into his air-conditioned office. The temperature change must have led to this, he thought, letting his hair drop on the back of the chair.