The Tycoon’s Remorse Pursuing His Unforgettable Bride

The beginning of it all.

MR BILLIONAIRE’S REGRET: CHASING HIS IRRESISTIBLE WIFE

Gabby Emmanuel

The beginning of it all.

(ARIELLE’S POV).

The aroma of the varieties of food laid out on the table hung in the air, as I sat across the table from my husband, Jared.

It was our anniversary, and in commemoration of that, I had suggested that we had an indoor dinner- just the two of us.

Despite his usual aloof self, Jared had created time from his usual busy work schedule to honor the occasion, and that was a gesture I considered lovely.

I had chosen to sit across from him instead of our usual dinning position–beside him because I wanted to see all of his reactions when I finally broke the good news to

him.

You see, I just discovered that I am pregnant yesterday from our family doctor, and I stalled the news, so I could break it to Jared during the anniversary dinner.

Whatever way would have been better? Celebrating an anniversary, and the conception of a baby. Sounds like a double party to me.

“This meal is delicious, Arielle,” Jared commented, interrupting my line of thoughts.” I don’t understand why I’m always awed by your culinary skill. You are a chef after all.”

I flashed him the most beautiful smile I could muster, feeling flustered by his compliment. “Thank you, Jared. That means a lot coming from you.”

He smiled back, but his was not as wide and bright as mine. “You didn’t have to make so many dishes, though. Two or three would have been just enough. It’s only the two of us after all.”

I clicked my tongue, there he went again. I was just about to reply to him, to tell him that it was our anniversary and I wanted to make it special, when his phone rang, the shrill sound disrupting the calm atmosphere

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Jared’s face fell when he looked at the screen, and then his expression turned apologetic. “Excuse me, Arielle. I have to take this. It’s work,” he said and rose to his feet.

I felt a lump form in my throat, as I nodded in understanding, trying to mask my disappointment.

“It’s fine, go on. I’ll be here,” I said, my voice coming out flatter than I intended.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll get you new jewelry, whatever you want,” he called out as he rushed out of the dinning room.

I reclined back on my seat, frustrated and disappointed. Our anniversary dinner, ruined by a work call.

I glanced up at the clock, and the time read 9 o’clock. Who leaves their home at this hour for work? It’s our special day for crying out loud, and choosing work over us?

My eyes inadvertently rolled, as I recalled his promise to make it up to me with a new piece of jewelry. Men need to learn that gifts are not always the key to a woman’s heart; quality attention is.

I sighed for the umpteenth time, wondering if he would even remember our anniversary when he was done with work. The food once appealing, now looked unappetizing. I pushed my chair back and rose to my feet.

Then I proceeded to cover the food. While at it, I decided that I will wait for Jared in the sitting room while entertaining myself with my favorite reality show.

I got to the sitting room afterward, and settled in comfortably on the couch. I took hold of the remote and turned on the television, minutes later, I was engrossed in the reality show.

I woke up with a start hours later, my eyes groggily opening to an eerily calm house. I was still on the couch, and the TV was still on, the reality show now replaced by a commercial advert.

Looking up at the clock, my heart sank. It was a few minutes past 12 o’clock.

A painful realization dawned on me; our anniversary was over. Anger and disappointment enveloped me as I realized that Jared wasn’t home yet. I had been excited to share my news with him, but now that too was ruined.

I rose from the couch, my body protested from the stiffness from sleeping in it. I

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walked over to the dinning room, the remnants of our anniversary dinner still laid out on the table.

Sighing in resignation, I cleared the table and sent some of the food to the trash and the rest to the microwave.

Afterward, I went upstairs to sleep. Feeling disappointed and lonely.

The next day, I walked into the restaurant where I worked as a chef, still feeling the pain of my ruined anniversary dinner.

Mr. Stone, my manager, a tall and imposing man with a kind smile, approached me as I was glancing through the newly modified menu.

“Arielle, got a few minutes to spare?” He asked.

“Sure,” I responded, looking up from the menu.

“There’s an opportunity for overseas study, lasting three years. It’s a great opportunity to improve and take your culinary skills to the next level. Are you interested?”

I hesitated, as I got

lost in thought.

Three years was a long time to be away, considering the fact that I was pregnant. Could I really leave Jared for that long? But part of me was tempted. It was the perfect opportunity to become a better and renowned chef.

Mr. Stone noticed my hesitance and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Take your time, my dear. Think about it and discuss it with your partner. This is a lifetime decision, and I want you to be certain.” He patted me on the back and walked off.

I sighed, my mind racing with thoughts again. I tried to weigh the odds. Would Jared be okay with raising our child on his own if I eventually give birth? What about our marriage? Would he be able to survive the distance?

All these thoughts and more filled my mind as I returned to work, my hands busy as I prepped for lunch service.

Hours later, a waitress rushed into the kitchen, a distressed look on her face. “Ma, there’s a customer insisting on seeing you,” she said, her voice urgent.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, surprised.

“She wouldn’t say, and she’s being really rude,” the waitress responded. “She says she wants to see the chef in charge.”

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I hurriedly took off my apron, washed my hands, and followed the waitress out to the dinning area.

“Hi, I’m Arielle, the head chef,” I said, stopping in front of the customer’s table.” What’s your complaint?”

The customer, a pregnant woman, looked me up and down, her eyes blazing hot with anger. “Your food tastes bland,” she spat. “I can’t believe you call yourself a chef.”

I listened patiently, and afterward, I defended my cuisine, explaining our menu and ingredients, but she remained adamant.

“I don’t care about anything you say,” she snapped. “I’m going to wait for my husband to arrive and have you fired.” Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

my

I was taken aback by her rudeness, but took a deep breath and maintained professional demeanor. “I understand your grievance, Ma’am. But I assure you that our food is prepared to the highest standard and with the best ingredients. If you’d like, I can make it up to you with a complimentary dish of your choice.”

The woman flipped her hair nonchalantly. “That won’t be necessary. I still want you fired for almost poisoning me and my unborn child. Just wait for my husband to arrive and he will have you dealt with.”

I was tired of the woman’s drama and returned to my office. But then, my heart was racing with anxiety at her audacity. Who was her husband, and did he have the authority to dismiss me?

A knock suddenly sounded on my office door, interrupting my thoughts.

“He’s here, Ma,” the waitress voice sounded behind the door

I had asked the waitress to inform me when the customer’s husband arrived, before coming to my office.

I took a deep breath and went out to face the said man that had the power to dismiss me, even when he was not my boss.

I stopped in my tracks, my breath hitching in my chest as I took in the side profile of the customer’s husband. He had his side to me, as he was conversing with his wife.

The woman saw me first and informed her husband, gesturing to me. And before he turned to face me fully, I already knew who the man was.

A burning sensation filled my chest as I stared at the gorgeous face that I slept with

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most nights.

It was Jared, my husband!