A Baby for the Billionaire

52

JULIET

This Jordan guy is a real jerk. Him and all his friends. I notice it as soon as we arrive at the house where tonight's party is being set up. I can't believe we decided to come to a place like this. I didn't really like parties before, but now the situation has gotten much worse. Not only do they disgust me, but they make me think that everyone who attends is stupid, including myself for being within these walls and being part of this troop of useless people who train in alternatives to drinking alcohol, walking around the city shirtless and show off their gazillion adolescent-turned-man muscles. Is this how they see me? Or how Mr. Deniz is able to see me? After all, I'm barely in my twenties. Until four years ago I was in school and less than three years ago I was tossing my grad cap in the air with a complete intent of smugness, believing that finishing school would be the key that would open all the doors in the rest of my vital perspective. The only doors that my "recent entry into adulthood" opened were those of bills payable, those of doctors for back pain, and those of contraceptives as a daily part of my life as if I had sex as often as intended for a girl my age.

"Rhonda, do you think we should be here? I don't like the kind of people who have attended this party at all," I tell her as she leads me to the kitchen for a few drinks. Maybe I'm the one who doesn't belong in this place and I should let her have her fun.

"Calm down, baby. Everything will be fine. I am the best person to tell you that the boys here are sweeties and that tonight is only made for fun."

"You are?"

"Of course, here."

She passes me a deep glass that I calculate its capacity to be about half a liter of liquid. I analyze what she pours into it and I deduce that it is liquor. Something orange that later mixes with vodka and ice flutters inside and I think about it repeatedly, before bringing it closer to my nose or my tongue.

"Cheers, honey. For a night that helps us kill our sorrows" she proposes with her glass raised directly towards me.

"What are your sorrows? Men?"

"Ugh, of course I don't feel like crying over a man. My sorrows are the exams, it can't be that I'm failing all of them at the same time!"

Hmm, I think I have the reasons for that, of course, I am not going to comment now.

We just clink glasses and drink.

I drink it.

As she instead pushes mine into a long swallow that goes down my throat with a cold sensation at first, but a burning sensation as it passes through my throat. It drips from my corners until I pull away from her and get her to stop choking on alcohol. Wow, this is weird. It's nowhere near the expensive champagne of Silicon Valley events or Mr. Deniz's Bourbon.

Kerem...

Get out of my mind!

"That's it, friend!" she says.

As soon as his name pops into my head again, I decide to take another drink until she fills my glass again. She also drinks and takes me by the arm to drag me to the patio of the house where there are a lot of people surrounding the pool where a few couples are squeezed against the walls and stairs, others take a dip and drink like crazy. I don't know how this situation will end. The truth is that the party is taking place in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the entire city and I think we have gone much further than I really thought. We are at least twenty kilometers from home, it is not even an area of ​​shops, apartments or buildings around that can complain about loud music or the like. This is more like a huge country house where very few families live around and where the nearest neighbor lies at least three hectares away.

There is a large inn with people playing ping pong with drinks, others playing games with strange cigarettes that emit smoke in different ways and colors while the drink circulates from one place to another with a number of substances present in this party that make me doubt about the legality with which everyone here can be accessing the things they are wearing.

I'm not going to deny it, I find it attractive. The boys are cute and seeing them walking around in little clothes is a delicacy. There are girls in bikinis and others trying to go topless, however, I suspect that sooner or later this will be commonplace in this all-out nocturnal party that doesn't mess around with little girls.

"Hey! Hello!"
"Round Rhonda!" bellows one of the guys who is brutally attractive.

"And who's he?"

"Jordan, my new friend!" she explains, and I whisper to her as the athletic hottie from the gods approaches us.

"What kind of party did you meet a boy like that at, woman?"

"In your house!"

"What?! He has been...to my house?!

Oh my God, I can't imagine what he must have thought when he saw the pigsty I live in if he and his family already have a house like this, which makes me suspect that they must have more than one property.

"It's good that you're here! You must be my new best friend's friend?" he asks, giving me a huge smile that reveals a white, complete, tidy and shiny set of teeth.

But what makes my crotch hair stand on end is that he is barely wearing anything but a tiny swimsuit, showing his entire wet body. He just came out of the water. He's got massive pecs, biceps that cry out for more exercise, and a pack of abs that exceeds the amount of squares I've ever seen on any mortal.

His hair is cropped, but long on top, dyed red with black roots. He seems to be an artist, because everything he wears looks good on him.

And the best thing is that a light layer of hair adorns his chest, with a tattoo on his left side that seems to be a dragon enclosed in a huge ring and on the nipple on that side there is an earring.

I think I'm starting to hyperventilate as I take it all in.

"Yes, this is Juliet," Rhonda introduces me.

"Wow, welcome back, July," he tells me, passing me the drink he was drinking. I'm not quite sure what they can give me in a drink like this, but I fear in large part for our health if this is how things will be, accepting drinks from strangers.

"Don't you drink?" he insists.

"Sure we drink," Rhonda says, poking me in the ribs.

I look at her suspiciously and she tells me with killer eyes "accept what they are offering you and don't be rude".

I take a deep breath, force myself to fake a smile, and gulp down the drink that was just handed to me.

It's something blue, it tastes good, it has a sweet taste, but it carries a brutal load of alcohol, which is a lethal weapon.

"Wow. It's good, I admit."

"At my parties there are only good drinks," he admits. "By the way, the one we did at your house was brutal, it's a pity you weren't there," he assures, approaching me and scratching the sensitive skin of my ear with his stubble.

"I...I see," I declare, shakily.

"Come meet my friends, I'm sure you'll get along," he asserts, crossing one arm around my shoulders and the other behind my best friend's back, dragging us into a mob of boys as sensual as they are provocative who I esteem as part of the school's football stars in its golden days. They are all scrumptious spoiled children with statuesque bodies and wealthy families.

I don't know what I did to deserve this, but for a moment, just for a moment, Rhonda succeeds in making me forget about all my problems and I let the drink and smoke take over my common sense tonight.