Book cover of “Obsession of the Billionaire“ by Unlessyouremad

Obsession of the Billionaire

  • Genre: Romance
  • Age: 18+
  • Status: Completed
  • Language: English
  • Author: Unlessyouremad
Tasha meets a man on the internet and runs away from him when she realizes that she is falling in love. She just doesn't know that this man is her boss's son and is obsessed with understanding what mysteries the beautiful girl hides, even though these secrets are not pleasant to discover. 

Chapter 1

The line of the crowded establishment was going from the cashier to the fresh fruits sector, and it was very easy to hear customers grumble about the lack of speed of the employees. Because they really believed that working for 7 hours standing, in a heat characteristic of the imminence of summer "although we were still in November", in a crowded supermarket, and wearing fabric masks charges the mouth and nose in order to guard us from the very agglomeration that they themselves caused, in the face of a worldwide pandemic, was the simplest and easiest task in the world.

"Sometimes I think that working with the public should be a mandatory subject for character formation," squeaked Aidan, stretching his neck to talk to me, while packing a purchase. "People think we complain for no reason, but, seriously, who likes to be treated like a dog for seven hours every day? Worse than a dog, by the way, because mine is lying down and eating all day, while I spend all day with my eyes shaking with hate. "

He frowned when I laughed. "Seriously, Tasha, I'll need therapy when I'm sent away from this place. There are times when I think I'm about to have a stress spill."

It was nothing new that customers became crippled when they arrived at the part where they needed to put their products in the bag. Even worse was when they suddenly became deaf, usually when we asked for lower-value coins or banknotes to facilitate change. They did very hard to end the joy of our days with the lack of education and pride. And no matter the time or the day of the week, there was always some unhappy with his own life to stop our judgment. No cashier was free to go through situations of absolute stress.

"A psychological aid was already of good size," shouted Ellen from where she was, a box away. She made an ugly face when a client that we all knew was a stone in his shoe went to his cashier with two cans of beer in his hand. She sighed deeply and still said aloud: "There are days when I just hide in the warehouse and cry... Oh, yeah, good night to you too."

"I just wish I had finished my college," languished Jordana, triggering the sound alert of her cashier to call the next client, because she was the only one who could keep her box empty in an infernal movement. Much of her gift of pretending that she didn't give a damn about the presence of customers, and they also strongly refused to receive one of their looks "Just thinking that I could be fine and full, coming to harass you, instead of being harassed by a poor and rude client... "

And when the customer simply put the basket on his counter and waited for her to take out the products and only then start passing them in front of the reader, Jordana sighed and looked at the ceiling as she begged: "Look, honestly, I'm tired of having to pay for my sins this way, mercy! Can you take it out of the basket?"

"We were lucky," I argued, determined to try to increase the mood of the group that surrounded me. Although I always avoided personal conflicts of any kind, there were still times when my patience was really tested. And working with the public was giving me the certainty that I would lose my temper at some point in my life. I just hoped it wasn't in the face of a choleric outbreak. "We're at the fast cashier... Worse would be to be in the bigger boxes with so many big purchases and no change."

The fast box consisted of six boxes that were basically half of the normal boxes, and joined in pairs at the ends, so that their occupants were side by side to each other. Box eight and nine were together, ten and eleven too, and twelve and thirteen closed the space. While box eight positioned itself with its back to box ten, the nine and eleven were facing each other, so you could always see customers hitting each other to try to reach the boxes at the tips, desperate to leave the establishment as soon as possible. Calling customers to be served in the boxes at the tips was our idea of fun; to see customers acting like fools and hitting each other, because these were the typical customers who already arrived at the cashier with their faces tied and without an ounce of desire to make our lives easier.

"It doesn't matter to me! "Exclaimed Luciana, sitting on the tip of the chair, I believed that to be easier to get up when seeing a new customer in line. Gradually we were managing to disperse the crowd that previously waited to be served, and much of this success fell to Luciana, who was never lazy to work. "The more movement the more time passes quickly. I just don't want the same thing to happen as yesterday."

"What happened yesterday? "I asked with growing curiosity. I was off every Monday, so I always lost the first events of the week. It was on the second that most employees asked for the accounts, or that the get-togethers were made, or that any very good news or unmissable gossip happened. And I was never there to know. Although it was the day when I should have my well-deserved rest, considering that I worked from Tuesday to Sunday, from three o'clock to ten o'clock at night, it was on Mondays that I got the most tired.

That's because the supermarket wasn't my only job. Like all Brazilians who were faced with a sudden pandemic, I had to resort to a second source of extra income, because I could not pay all the bills with the salary I received at the supermarket "even working six days a week and receiving an additional night. So I got an internship in a business center that offered opportunities for young people who attended any period of business school. I was in a course that I didn't love, and I worked in a place I hated, because, worse than the supermarket, I just had to be an intern in a place where only rich and educated people attended.

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