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Page 145 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

He walks in, his tall, muscled frame in a tuxedo, his beard trimmed down to scruff, and hair in tousled waves over one shoulder. He drops a kiss on my head

“Aw thanks, Twigs”

“Hey Twiggy,” Stella starts, “I thought we agreed we were doing a father-of-the-bride style for you. We talked about this, right?”

“What’re ye plannin’ now? Dollin’ me up with makeup?”

“I was thinking we could curl–”

“Not on yer life, lass I told ye before.”

“He means no,” I interpret for Stella, who looks about to argue more.

“Twiggy, is that strawberry daiquiri that mine?” I gesture to the cocktail in his hand before Stella can launch into her argument.

“Aye, it’s virgin, but mind yerself now, only a few sips, and don’t be spillin’ it on yer–”

“Did you say strawberry daiquiri? Like real strawberries?” Stella’s brows are deeply furrowed in concern and she no longer seems interested in pestering Twiggy.

“Yes. Why?” I question.

“No, Twiggy I’m afraid Bonnie can’t have this. She’ll have just water.” She takes it out of Twiggy’s hand and carries the offending drink like an exterminator to the adjoining bathroom.

“Stella, I wanted that!” Her rules are getting out of control.

Stella returns with the empty cocktail glass and pushes it into Twiggy’s hand. “Please go get Hana and the rest and some water if you please.” She says in a tone that brooks no argument. I can’t believe she threw my cocktail down the sink!

“Aye, gaffer,” Twiggy tosses a mock salute and leaves.

“What is he saying now?”

“No, he’s just winding you up. He means ‘Yes boss’, but Stella, what the hell was that about the strawberry daiquiri, is that like a wedding superstition or something?”

“No, it is not. There’s such a thing as a strawberry allergy. It’s rare, but it exists, and it kills!”

“Um, Stella, I know about the allergy. But I’m not allergic, and neither are you, so I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Uh-uh, I’m not taking any chances, thank you. Gosh, have you not seen the news?”

“What news?”

“Apparently, somebody died of the allergy a few days ago. He was only twenty-eight and heir to a multimillion-dollar company in Ireland, which is a shame. The internet has gone bonkers over that news. It didn’t even happen here in the States, but try telling that to all the blogs. And the way it’s trending on social media platforms is unbelievable. Everyone suddenly wants to talk about anaphylaxis, and people are freaking out about havingan allergy they’re unaware of and potentially dying of it. I know I am.”

Stella takes a much-needed breath while I rub away the goosebumps that have started racing down my arms.

She continues, “I’ll need to have a strong word with that wedding planner. I hope she has a few other cocktail options on the menu because, I’m telling you people will freak out. Unless she’s been living under a rock for the past week, I’m sure she’s heard about it. Even restaurants are starting to suspend strawberry from their menu…”

I’d stopped listening to Stella after the ‘twenty-eight and heir to a multimillion-dollar company in Ireland’part.

I know of one person with a severe allergy to strawberries. It was so bad that strawberries were banned in school and taken out of the canteen menu. He’s twenty-eight years old now. And heir to a business empire.

What are the odds?

“Stella. Who was this person? What’s their name?”

“Oh, you think I’m kidding? How haven’t you heard this news?”

Ethan and I have been particularly busy with our security work this past couple of weeks. There’d been a flurry of business activities in six different countries over the past two weeks, and Giovanni’s team needed extra protection to encrypt all their phone calls and emails to ensure they were untraceable. Over a hundred surveillance cameras were hacked at different times to distort their feeds to ensure none of them were spotted.




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