The Billionaire Who Saved Me - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

"Mr. Cooke, what took you so long?" Mason suddenly said.
That worked better than calling my name. I shot up from the couch in an instant, my eyes blazing as I turned toward the door—only to find it still closed, with no one there at all.
"Mason, are you messing with me?" I spun around and demanded.
Mason didn't answer. Something white flew at me, and I caught it out of reflex. It was his suit jacket.
Before I could ask, he was already giving orders. "Take it to the cleaners, then book a table for two at Valen Prime. Tell them to prepare one Wellington steak and a 1982 Château Margaux. We'll be there by 12:20."
Mason rattled off a whole list of instructions and then added, "Go on."
Any trace of sleepiness was completely gone thanks to Mason. I shot him a glare, then turned to leave and get everything done like he ordered.
Just then, there was a soft knock at the door.
Without even looking up, Mason said calmly, "Oliver's here. He'll be in there for about thirty minutes. Just enough time to finish the business talk before you come back. The rest of the time is your show."
I couldn't believe it. "You're that sure it's him?"
"See for yourself," Mason replied.
Of course I didn't believe him, but I walked over and peeked through the peephole. Sure enough, it was Oliver.
I turned back in shock, meeting Mason's smug expression head-on. I honestly wanted to crack open his skull and take a look inside.
Was that really a brain in there? Or was it some kind of chip? Mason calculated everything with robotic precision. He was a typical businessman, a damn capitalist.
But there was no time to waste now. I had to rush back in time no matter what.
I opened the door and saw Oliver standing there, holding a thick stack of reports and documents, looking nervous. As soon as he saw me, he started, "Ms. Gordon, I—"
I didn't bother with him. I rushed out with the suit jacket and headed straight to the dry cleaner. After dropping it off, I went to the restaurant to book a table. I checked off everything Mason had asked me to do, one by one.
By the time I pushed open the office door back at the company, Oliver was already getting ready to leave, saying, "Mr. Knight, I won't take up more of your time. I'll head out now."
I interrupted, "Mr. Cooke, don't go just yet. I was looking for you, actually." Just like Mason said—perfect timing.
Oliver froze when he heard my voice, then quickly plastered on a smile. "Ms. Gordon, you're back? I was just about to come find you and apologize to you."
He glanced at his watch. "It's already noon. I'd like to buy you both lunch to make it up to you. Would that be alright?"
Mason didn't say a word and just looked at me with a smile. I knew it was time for my performance.
I strolled up to Oliver. "Lunch can wait. That old lady you shoved yesterday? I was the one who took her to the hospital. I'm guessing you don't expect me to cover the bill, right?"
"You're right. Of course not. That was my oversight. I'll pay you back right away," Oliver said, reaching into his wallet like he meant it.
"Mr. Cooke, you really are loaded. Carrying thirty thousand dollars in cash on you?" I smiled.
That did the trick. His hand froze, his eyes wide in shock. "How much?"
I blinked innocently. "Only thirty thousand. Medical bills back home really are affordable, huh?"
Oliver's face went pale. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but in the end, he didn't say a word.
The satisfaction bubbling inside me was better than eating ice cream on a scorching summer day.
I kept a straight face despite how good I felt, and pushed the advantage. "The outfit I wore yesterday? Ruined. It was a brand-new piece from Humdale's top designer, Archie Ellis. It totaled 93 thousand dollars. Thanks."
Oliver stumbled back, nearly losing his balance. He barely caught himself on the edge of the table, looking utterly defeated. "I-I—"
I questioned, "Mr. Cooke, you're not trying to get out of paying, are you? Oh, and by the way, that outfit of mine came with a certificate and Archie's autograph."
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."