Falling For My Billionaire Savior - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Oliver quickly said, "No, that's not what I meant. I was just wondering if you could give me a couple days."
"Oh, that's what you meant? Sure." I nodded, very agreeable all of a sudden.
"Thank you," Oliver muttered through gritted teeth, then slipped out like he was running for his life.
Once I was sure he was really gone, I burst out laughing. I closed the office door and went to the break room to grab a clean white towel. Then I carefully wiped down everything Oliver had touched, even the doorknob.
After that, I tossed the towel in the trash, flopped onto the couch, and stretched out with zero grace.
"Not bad. You're learning. Let's go. It's almost time. You're treating me to lunch," Mason remarked.
"Why me?" I protested, clearly stingy. Sure, Mason had just handed me a huge sum of money, but I had other plans for it.
"You pulled off that extortion like a pro. I'm helping you celebrate."
"Isn't the gentleman supposed to pay?"
"When you're a lady, yes. But you've graduated to warrior now. Warriors pick up the check."
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"It is."
Mason's twisted logic left me speechless. But as I walked out of the building arm-in-arm with him, feeling all those envious stares from people around us, I had to admit—my vanity was pretty satisfied, even if just a little.
It was only for a second, though. The moment we walked into the restaurant, my anxiety kicked in. The place was way too fancy.
When I came earlier to make the reservation, I was too busy rushing back to trap Oliver to really look around.
But three months of training had given me some taste. Forget the understated luxury of the decor—the gleaming silverware, crystal glasses, even the paintings on the wall looked like originals.
A single meal here probably cost a fortune. Oh my goodness. I groaned internally.
Now that Oliver's headache was dealt with, mine had officially arrived. What did Mason order again? A 1982 Château Margaux. That was going to kill me.
Even though there was a lot of money in my bank account, that didn't mean I should start throwing it around, right?
Even after sitting down, I was still distracted, calculating how much would get swiped from my card when the check came.
I ordered a sirloin steak and a salad. Mason looked like he was in a good mood and added a truffle pizza and a chocolate sundae.
Each time he added something, my heart skipped a beat. It wasn't until he finally set the menu down that I realized sweat had started to bead on my forehead.
Mason asked, "Are you hot?"
"Yeah. I'm worried you won't finish all this and it'll go to waste." I nodded.
Mason frowned. "When are you going to stop being so petty? You didn't look this hesitant when you were squeezing Oliver just now."
"I'd be just as happy now if you were paying for this meal," I replied.
While we were talking, the waiter had already started bringing over the exquisite dishes one by one. "Please enjoy," he said politely.
Mason ignored me and focused on the food in front of him. He ate like a king while I sat there with no appetite at all.
But when the bill came, I instantly regretted it—he didn't make me pay. If I'd known, I wouldn't have let my stinginess show on my face and given him something to laugh at.
After we returned to the office, I used the excuse of having too much work to escape back to my office and take a nap.
As for that workaholic Mason, if someone wanted to deal with him, they were welcome to it. I was on strike.
I lay down on the bed in the break room and quickly fell asleep. In a haze, I had a dream. I dreamed that my father and my brother George, both with heavy hearts, were admitting my mom into a psychiatric hospital.
It was because my mom kept insisting I had possessed another woman's body and become some kind of power woman.
They all thought my mom had lost her mind from missing me too much, and said she needed treatment as soon as possible.
Her head injury hadn't even healed yet when she was transferred to the psych ward. She clung tightly to the metal bars at the entrance, refusing to go in no matter what, shouting over and over, "I'm not crazy. I really saw Maddy."