Stranded with the Billionaire

Darkness surrounded Sage as he lay in bed, staring up at the smooth ceiling. Glancing at his watch, he groaned. It was four o’clock in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. His mind won’t stop working.

He stirred in the silk sheets and lay down on his stomach. Another hour before he needs to wake up. Another hour before damage control. Another hour before the world knows what a terrible man his father was.

He rubs his face with his hand. Now there is no race. Too many people’s livelihood depends on him. The family changes forever if he can’t solve this problem. His chest contracted as he sat up. He needs a hot shower.

Pulling off the blanket, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The heat from his heated floor travels up his legs and settles in his stomach. Elsewhere, cool autumn weather will affect people’s lives. Not when you’re a Davenport. He flinched as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. He missed the way the outdoors grounded him. All those luxuries were not his, but his father’s.

As he stared at the large mirror hanging in the bathroom, his jaw clenched. One thing he knows for sure is that he is not his father and never will be. It doesn’t matter how his new lifestyle wants him to change.

Turning on the shower, he entered the enclosure. Water hit him from all sides.

Living in a remote area taught him to take a quick shower. Ice will do it to a man. There is no time to sit there and think when your body temperature drops rapidly.

In less than three minutes, he was washed clean. He looked around. What must you do now?

Expensive marble walls glistening with drops of water. An entire truck could fit in that bathroom. A wave of heat swept over him. He needs to go out. Leaning over, he turned off the water and grabbed a nearby towel. Once dry, he wrapped it around his waist and stepped outside.

While brushing his teeth, he checks his beard. Amanda would probably ask him tsk-tsk to grow a beard, but Sage didn’t care. It was his last stand against the change he was forced to make. The only image of his past life that he could keep. And damn it, I’ll keep it.

In the room, he’s getting dressed. It’s not in his standard shorts and T-shirt. This time in a crumpled European blue suit that Amanda says makes him less intimidating – and less like a parasite.

Even though the outfit was made of the finest fabrics, it still scratched his skin. The collar felt like he was about to strangle him and the tie was heavy around his neck. After putting on his shiny black shoes, he stood up. Four hundred and forty-five. He still had fifteen minutes before Amanda was out the door. Fifteen minutes to be yourself.

He grabbed the duffel bag he hid in the closet and threw it on the bed. Amanda had informed him yesterday that the maid had packed her things and was in the hallway, ready to go. He scoffed as he grabbed his pants and sweater. It’s not like he went to Greenland uncomfortably.

After packing up his clothes, he finds all his outdoor gear and puts it on. He will find a moment to sneak in and climb. Maybe even camping. We don’t expect him to always be the CEO of Kennedy Outdoors.

He puts on his hiking boots and zips them up. Shaking his head, he slung the bag over his shoulder and opened the door. He won’t think about what is expected of him right now. It just made him feel like a six-hundred-pound bear sitting on his chest.

He clenched his fist. Right now, he needs to focus on getting to and from Greenland safely. Then good. . . he will find something.

The soft sound of the television reverberated in the hallway as Sage walked into the kitchen. He stopped and slid the gym bag off his shoulder and dropped it by the door. Georgia, her chef, is peeling apples at the counter. Her graying hair was pulled up in a bun, and from time to time she would raise her hand to adjust the e-readers she kept on her nose. She was watching the news on the small television next to her.

“You’re up too early,” Sage said as he entered the room.

“Oh!” She shouted, swinging her paring knife at him. Sage raised his hand.

“Oh, Mr. Davenport, you scare me.” She put her hand on her chest as her cheeks flushed red. She glanced at her watch and then at him.

“Well, fried apples won’t be fried.” Then his eyes turned curious. “It’s only ten o’clock at night. What are you doing stand-up?

Sage ran his hand through his hair and walked over to the fridge.

“I cannot sleep.”

Gianna nodded, turning her attention back to the apple in her hand.

“Worried about the flight?” she asked. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I prefer my feet on the ground.

Sage smiled as he pulled out a pitcher of orange juice and picked up a glass. “It was freshly squeezed,” she said, pointing to the jug.

“You worked so hard.” He shot her a sharp look as he poured.

She laughs. It is a melodious and moving sound.

“Okay, I’ll rest when I die.”

Sage leaned back against the counter and smiled, allowing the familiarity of those who had helped raise him to invade his nerves. Being with them has made this transition a little easier.

“How is Peter today?” He asks.

Gianna places an apple on the tray in front of her and starts eating the next one.

“He is in Georgia now. He has a daughter.” She raised her interlaced fingers as she raised her head. “I hope it’s one. I want grandchildren.” She smiled at him.

He reached out and grabbed the apple she had just peeled.

She squinted at him.

“Sage Rogue Davenport, just because you’re twenty-eight doesn’t mean I can’t kick you out of my kitchen.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

He smiles trying to keep the apple juice from coming out of his lips.

“I love you too, Georgia.”

She groaned back to the apple in her hand. “Davenports,” she muttered.

Sage threw the core in the trash as soon as Amanda entered the room. She wears a pressed suit, and her hair is pulled up in a bun. She looks like a top executive. Why doesn’t he?

“Good to see you’re up,” she said, filling a cup of coffee. “And wear something decent.”

Sage tugged at his collar and nodded.

Before she could say anything more, the camera on the TV screen showed a reporter sitting at her desk. A cloud of stress settles in the kitchen.

“More news about the Kennedy family. Things don’t look so good this time. Reports have just emerged that Rogue Davenport, the late CEO of Kennedy Outdoors, was involved in the illegal poaching of endangered animals.”

The reporter flipped the stack of documents in front of her.

“How deeply ingrained are this negligence in the business?”

And do politicians get paid to be silent? Check out the Morning News preview, following these posts.

The journalist has been replaced by a singing chicken.

Sage swallowed as his anger grew.

“Well,” Gianna said, breaking the silence and glancing at him.

Amanda put her hand on his arm.

“We can handle this. Just stick to the plan.” She gave him a small smile. Plan. They had a plan. Sage finished the remaining juice and set the glass down in the sink. His stomach twisted. Why didn’t those words comfort him?

Amanda’s phone rang, leading her down the hallway. Sage opened the cupboard and pulled a cookie from the drawer he knew Gianna always kept in the back.

Amanda was back before he finished it. His face contorted into a worried expression.

“What’s wrong?”

She laughs.

“It was the prosecutor. Apparently, your father is accused of extortion and using company assets to store the animals he hunted.” She swallowed hard. “I must see the prosecutor. I’ll have to go to Greenland without you.”

“What?” Sage stared at her.

She is the mastermind behind the whole scheme.

“I couldn’t do this without you.”

Amanda shook her head.

“I have to stay here.” She walked towards the kitchen door. “You can do it, Sage. I know you can.” She smiled at him once more and slipped out of the room.

“It’s never quiet at the Kennedy house,” Gianna mumbled as she picked up another apple.

Frustrated, Sage headed for the door where he had dropped his gym bag earlier. At least now he didn’t have to worry about trying to hide it from Amanda . He is free to do whatever he wants. But right now, that wasn’t the kind of freedom he wanted.