Maraïda: The Billionaire's Surrogate (Billionaire One)(Completed)

The baby hates me...

The food tasting thing started pretty great; you know, with the heavenly scent, all the flavours to die for. But eight different dishes later, I felt like I would die if I tried another. Everything looked and smelled great but tasted like shit. My stomach churned as the fowl smell of puke filled the air. I had thrown up so much so that I doubted there was be any liquid left in my body. Jared made sure I drank a lot of water every time I emptied my guts. We'd been at it for almost three hours; I was starving but couldn't eat anything. I was tired and I was exhausted.

"I'm starting to think this baby hates me," I couldn't control the tears that washed down my face. It was frustrating to not being able to eat anything and still be hungry; plus the nausea which wasn't a very pleasant feeling. I wasn't the only one frustrated. He wouldn't say anything but I could see it in his eyes. He was tired and a little pissed. The veins that stood on his forehead, about to pop said it all. His wife hadn't been back yet and low key, I wished she had. I didn't know this man well enough; what he was capable of00; the extents to which he could go. A lot about him still hid under the dark for me.

"Now why would you say that?" He asked palm rubbing his forehead. His bright blue eyes dark and tired.

"It hates me! That's why it wants to starve me to death. I can't eat anything and I'm starving! I just want to die" I cried. My stomach groaned and I wanted to punch it.

"No no no! Don't ever ever say or even think that again Maraïda."

"Excuse me sir?" One of the maids called,

"Linda, " Mr. Shenko answered, "Can I help you?"

"If I may, sir, having the miss trying already cooked food might not be such a good idea." She said, capturing his attention; heck she had captured my attention! "You see when my little sister was pregnant, we had the same problems, and what we did was find her cravings from scratch."

When she said from scratch, I thought we'd be starting with something light like ice cream or pudding. Her from scratch wasn't the kind of situation where you start with appetizers, but the kind of situation where you started with ingredients. It wasn't an easy process either. Linda made me from different ingredients that didn't make me want to puke out my guts, four different dishes; but still, nothing of what she had spent almost two hours making tasted like pizza or ice cream. Then she suggested that someone else does it. Everyone e else declined. They were all so frustrated with me. I hated the feeling. I felt like a burden to all of them, especially Mr. Shenko.

Sophia was back and together with Mr. Shenko had retreated to their bedroom to discuss something apparently important in 'private'. I'm sure she just wanted to get him away from the stress of me. She hadn't appreciated the state in which she had met her house and husband, all because of me.

Two hours later of trying all the meals again, by myself, I laid motionless on the couch, I couldn't think straight. My vision was blurry and my head spun like a ferries wheel. The feeling was wasn't particularly appealing but it wasn't unfamiliar either. It was kinda like how I felt before running into Jared Shenko.

I heard footsteps running down the stairs and immediately recognised them as Sophia's; no one else around here wore lifters for shoes a found here. She walked passed the living room, and out the door, not even noticing my dying presence.

The maids were still in the kitchen trying to figure out what to make of me; or plotting her ti murder me to make everything easier for everyone. The little minion in my stomach was the most stubborn person I had never met.

"Maraïda? Maraïda?" I heard him calling, coming down the stairs. He went straight into the kitchen and about two minutes later came back cursing like a motherfucker.

"Why the bloody hell is she doing this to me?" He yelled particularly to no one since I was still on the coach and he was facing the dining area. "Maraïda! Where are you now?" I could only lift a hand in mid air before letting it slouch back on my motionless body.

"Are you OK?" He voice was laced with concern. And I thought he was mad at me like twenty seconds ago,

"I can't take it anymore! Can I just die now?" I weakly replied. I felt drained; this time, more physically than mentally.

He sat by my side and started caressing my hair. I wasn't sure it was appropriate but I loved it so I closed into his laps. I felt good; save, warm and secured.

"I thought i warned you a out uttering such profanities ever again. How about I try making you something my nan would make for me when I was a boy."

"You can cook?" I asked, disappointed. If he was going to cook, then I'd be left here alone. It was strange. For the first time in a long time, I was afraid of solitude.

"I can try," Jared said,

"I'll go with you then," I tried impossibly forcing myself up from the couch but to no avail,

"No don't," he gently pushed me back into my comfort, "Just stay here, I'll be back in a bit."

He left and thirty minutes later came back with a bowl of noodles soup. Like all the other dishes, it smelled great but I braced myself for what came next, like with most of the others.

Three scoops later, I was still eating. It tasted as it smelled and it was almost finished. I wanted more and he got it for me. He sat there and watched me eat. I gulped down about three bowls before realising, not even once did I feel like throwing up.

It was perfect.