Mr Billionaire's Heart✔️(Edited and Polished)

Chapter 2 MEETING WITH MR JERK

As the seconds ticked away, my senses were enveloped in sheer ecstasy. Not a hint of pain lingered within me, leaving me free to clear my eyes and revel in the bliss of my surroundings. My muscles tightened, eager to embrace this moment of pure luxury.
And then, I noticed him. My gaze gravitated towards the man beneath me, and I was struck by his strikingly dark hair - thick, lustrous, and irresistibly tousled. His eyes, a hypnotic deep crystal blue, wove a swirling tapestry of silver light that left me entranced. His face was boldly defined, a visage of strength and granite-carved features that commanded attention. His dark eyebrows sloped downward in a serious expression, while his lips drew into a hard line that promised to sweep me away in a passionate embrace.
It was then that our eyes met, and time seemed to stand still. All around us, the world paused, leaving only him and I in this moment of pure indulgence.
The changing colors of his eyes mesmerized me, drawing me in with their swirling shades of Atlantic blue. I could feel myself becoming hypnotized, captivated by the wind-stirred waves that surged through his gaze. The depths of his eyes were a sanctuary, a place where love ran deeper than the ocean itself - and I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I never wanted to leave.

"Well well well, looks like someone's having a bad day. Did you forget to have your daily dose of chill pills? Or did someone take your parking spot again?" I quipped sarcastically, eyeing him up and down with a raised eyebrow.
But his icy glare didn't soften. Instead, he snapped, "What the hell, girl, if you don't know how to ride a bicycle, why the hell do you ride it? What if something happens to my favourite car?"
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his ridiculous reasoning. "Oh, honey, don't you worry about your precious car. I promise to keep my two-wheeled vehicle far away from your royal chariot. And as for riding a bicycle, well, I may not be a pro, but I can still give Lance Armstrong a run for his money. So pardon me for living my life on my own terms," I retorted with a sassy smirk.
His jaw clenched even tighter, but I just shrugged it off. After all, some people just can't handle a strong, independent woman on a bicycle.

"Excuse me, sir, did you forget your manners at home or did you have a bit of a mental breakdown? Because last time I checked, yelling at someone with a dry mouth and a bleeding hand isn't exactly a sign of good mental health," I quipped, unable to resist the opportunity for a little sass.

I couldn't help but notice his fancy Armani suit, but it was clear that my clumsiness had caused his injury. It was a strange, intimate moment as I hovered over him, feeling guilty and grateful at the same time.
But before I could offer a helping hand, he was already on his feet, rejecting my assistance with a curt wave.
I knew he was angry with me, and honestly, I couldn't blame him. But the truth was, he was hurt because of my own stupidity. And yet, despite the blood and pain, he didn't even let a scratch come to me.
"You're hurt!" I exclaimed, trying to be helpful.
He snarled, his teeth bared like a wild animal. "I don't need your help. I'll take care of it myself."
Well, then. Excuse me for living.

With my eyes shut tight, I inhaled deeply and counted to five. But my focus was interrupted when my foot detected the presence of a rogue clay ball. In a fit of anger, I crushed it like a bug - okay, okay, I admit it was my fault. Instead of being mad at the guy, I should have been thanking him!
"Come on, let me take a look at your wound or else it's going to get infected, and nobody wants that," I pleaded. I mean, can you imagine the horror of a wound gone wrong?
The hottie in front of me stared directly into my soul. His eyes, oh boy, his eyes. There was something flickering there but before I could work out what it was, it disappeared back into his icy stare.
"Don't you get it? I don't need your help, so scram," he spat, trying to put me in my place.
"Listen here, I'm not asking for your permission. I'm examining your wound, whether you like it or not," I shot back, feeling confident and sassy. The look on his face was priceless - he clearly wasn't used to being challenged like that!

As I guided him to his stunning LEXUS LC, I couldn't help but admire the beauty of this car - it truly is a masterpiece. My obsession with it grows stronger each time I see it. As we arrived at the car, I quickly opened the door for him and helped him get settled.
As I started to treat his wounds, I couldn't help but notice his perfectly sculpted abs and Greek God-like body. However, I knew that his looks were not the important thing right now, it was his injury. I unbuttoned his shirt to properly attend to his wound, and he kept staring at me without blinking. I swear, does this man ever blink?
With a calm and persuasive tone, I took out the first aid kit and started to treat his injury. It was important that he allowed me to properly clean and dress his wound. I knew what needed to be done, and I made sure to do it with the utmost care.
So, despite my obsession with his luxurious car and his striking appearance, my focus remained on his recovery. After all, I couldn't let my feelings get in the way of doing what was necessary to assist someone in need.
"Well, isn't he just a delight to work with," I said sarcastically as I tended to his wound. Throughout the whole process, he stared at me like a hawk. And finally, his cold eyes showed some emotion...of pure irritation.
As I looked up, he glared at me even harder, tapping his foot like a toddler. "It'll hurt a little, but trust me, not much," I said to him, trying to ease the tension. But apparently, my words fell on deaf ears.
And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, he snapped at me like a rabid dog. "Get out!" he barked, sending me into a confused stupor. "Excuse me?" I asked, holding onto the bandage like a lifeline.
I mean, come on. I saved his life and this is how he repays me? With rudeness and hostility? I didn't know whether to be offended or amused. But one thing's for sure - this guy needs a heavy dose of manners ASAP.
He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, like a bull about to charge. "I said get the hell out. Don't make me say it again," he growled through gritted teeth.
Well, okay then. Mr. Charm and Grace over here can take care of himself. I threw my hands up in surrender and left, biting back some choice words of my own. Here's hoping he doesn't need my help again anytime soon...

I bolted out of his ride like a bat out of hell, and before I knew it, a dude who's approaching the big 4-0 came sprinting towards us, dressed to impress in a fancy-schmancy white uniform.
"Good day, sir," he greeted with a slight bow.
Mr. Jerk and I took a few steps back, twisting our necks to look elsewhere.
"Blake, high-tail it to my penthouse," he barked, and his trusty chauffeur dashed towards the driver's seat like his life depended on it.
Mr. Jerk rolled his window down, probably to catch a breath of fresh air or something.
I clasped one elbow and started mindlessly tapping my lips with the other, as the car's rumble drilled into my ears.
I gazed at Mr. Jerk already settled into his car, but then out of nowhere, he jerked his head my way, and those icy blue eyes locked onto mine.
My breaths became louder and more frantic. There was something about those peepers, and for a good while, the car just vanished from my vision like a mirage.

"Oh Blake, poor soul. I wonder how he deals with being perpetually annoyed with the world. His nickname 'Mr. Jerk' practically writes itself in bold, sassy font. But let's not focus on that. After all, he did save me from that accident. I mean, sure, I can't even utter a thank you to him, but he did prevent me from becoming a human pancake. But seriously, why does he have to be so rude and cold towards me? Eh, forget about it. Time to take the subway to my humble abode. Let's hope the ride is as smooth as my attitude."

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