The Billionaire's Mistaken And Defiant Surrogate

Celestia slammed the bedroom door shut. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird trying to break free.

She rushed into the en-suite bathroom. She frantically tore open the mirrored vanity cabinets, bottles clinking together.

She pushed aside the expensive, floral perfumes. She searched for anything pungent. Finally, she grabbed a small, dark bottle of pure eucalyptus essential oil.

She ran back to the bedroom and pressed her ear against the door, listening intently to the chaotic sounds of the staff preparing for his arrival. The door abruptly swung inward, nearly striking her. A flustered young maid, arms piled high with fresh towels, jumped back with a squeak of alarm.

"I'm so sorry, Miss—I was told to refresh all the suites—" the maid stammered, her face pale.

Celestia didn't waste the opportunity. She slipped past the startled maid into the corridor while the door was still open. She darted silently toward an unattended housekeeping cart. Her eyes scanned the cleaning supplies until she spotted exactly what she needed: a large, industrial plastic jug of pure white vinegar.

She snatched the jug by its handle and scurried back into her room. She pushed the heavy door shut, and the electronic lock clicked loudly into place behind her. She locked the heavy bathroom door and began stripping off her silk clothes.

She poured the harsh white vinegar directly onto a thick washcloth. She gagged as the acidic, eye-watering smell burned her nostrils.

She vigorously rubbed the vinegar-soaked cloth all over her neck, chest, and arms. She let the acidic liquid soak deep into her pores.

She uncaps the eucalyptus oil. She aggressively dabbed the concentrated, burning liquid onto her pulse points-her wrists, behind her ears, and the base of her throat.

The combined stench of vinegar and eucalyptus filled the small bathroom. It made her eyes water profusely, tears streaming down her face.

She walked back into the bedroom. She grabbed the jar of pickled garlic Martha had left on the nightstand.

She forced herself to eat several cloves rapidly. Her stomach churned violently in protest, threatening to bring the garlic right back up.

She dug through the massive mahogany wardrobe. She ignored the sexy, sheer lingerie Sterling had provided. Instead, she found the most unflattering, oversized flannel pajamas meant for the winter months.

She put the thick pajamas on. She buttoned them all the way up to her chin, hiding her body completely beneath the heavy fabric.

She sat rigidly on the edge of the bed. Her hands trembled violently as she waited in the darkening room.

Outside, the distant, rhythmic thumping of helicopter rotor blades echoed across the island.

The sound grew deafeningly loud. The vibrations rattled the windows, indicating the chopper had touched down on the estate's helipad.

Ten agonizing minutes passed in complete silence. Then, heavy, purposeful footsteps sounded in the hallway.

The electronic lock on her bedroom door beeped sharply. The indicator light flashed green.

The door swung open. Sterling Sinclair IV stepped into the unlit room. He was already loosening his expensive silk tie with one hand.

Sterling approached the bed in the dark. He expected to find a compliant, perfumed woman waiting for him.

He reached out his hand to touch her shoulder, stepping into her immediate personal space.

The overwhelming, nauseating stench of vinegar, garlic, and concentrated eucalyptus hit him like a physical brick wall.

Sterling recoiled violently. He ripped his hand back as if he had been burned. He coughed harshly as the toxic fumes burned his nasal passages.

He cursed loudly. His deep voice echoed in the room as he stepped back, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly.

He blindly reached for the wall switch. He slammed his hand against it, flooding the room with bright, unforgiving light.

Sterling blinked against the glare. His eyes locked onto Celestia. She was huddled in the hideous, oversized flannel, looking like a miserable lump.

He glared at her. His expression was a terrifying mix of sheer disgust and rising, uncontrollable fury.

"What the hell did you do?" he demanded, his voice a lethal growl.

Celestia looked back at him. Her eyes were watering heavily from the fumes, but a defiant, mocking smirk played on her lips.