Billionaire's Seduction

friendships, everything life had to offer. We had built the strongest foundation, along with several very close friends like Max and his brother Nick. In fact, I think back, Nick had a crush on me in high school, but I chose Eric. So he walked away. Nick moved to Vegas from Montana during our high school years. He and Eric became fast friends, and yes, I found him interesting. But Eric was my focus, and we were boyfriend and girlfriend. We all hung out, and while it was no secret that Nick liked-

and then fell in love with-me, I couldn't love him back. In the end, it didn't hurt our friendship. There was always a little sexual tension there, but isn't there always sexual tension when you're young, in your teens and early twenties? Nick accepted my decision, adored Eric, and so we became friends. We played sports together, hiked the Grand Canyon, went on school trips across the country, went to family parties, and went to concerts. So many fond memories, the kind you have when you're young and think your whole life is ahead of you. Eric and I got engaged after college graduation. We were so excited, planning our life together. Losing him suddenly, months before our wedding, was too much for my heart to bear. I felt lost, adrift in a sea of ​​grief, until my older brother, Simon, stepped in. I certainly have friends who helped or tried to help, including sweet, strong Max, my father's trusted lieutenant at the Sapphire Club, and Nick-Max's brother. Max came to the Sapphire Club and Las Vegas through Nick, after serving in the Special Forces. And Max eventually became Simon's right-hand man. Nick grieved just as I did when Eric died... Older brother Simon has always been my rock, my protector. Even more so after our parents passed away. And then again after Eric left.

He's a shark, a rich and powerful man in the world, and many fear him. But with me, he's always been kind. I wish I could be more like him, stronger perhaps, but I'm more like our mother. She was quiet, sweet (sweeter than me!), and saw the best in everyone. I took over the Sinclair Charitable Foundation right after college, interning there as a student. Mom started it, and I wanted to continue her work. I found joy in supporting animal rescues, providing scholarships to underprivileged children, advancing the foundation's cancer research, stocking food banks, and so on. It fulfilled my life, but it just wasn't enough when I lost Eric. I fell into a deep depression, some days not wanting to get out of bed. Simon appointed a temporary director for the foundation, Cecily Anderson. With his gentle guidance and unwavering support, he suggested I take some time for myself in a special place he knew, nestled in the Swiss Alps. For five months, I allowed myself to grieve, feel, and slowly rebuild myself with the help of professionals. Fresh air, a change of scenery, great therapists-all of it helped. I knew I was lucky to be getting treatment-so many people struggling with major depression don't have the same resources. I decided to add a branch to our Foundation for just that-helping people who are deeply depressed without resources-in the coming months, out of gratitude. As I grew stronger in spirit, good memories began to overwhelm the grief. Memories of Eric began to creep into my mind.

And memories of Nick and Max, too. I felt like I was betraying Eric the day I thought of Nick romantically, but my therapist told me that was normal. That Eric would want me to move on and not stay stuck in a place of grief, not living. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. But eventually, a spark of adventure ignited within me. I now yearned to explore, to experience life again, beyond the confines of my healing sanctuary. I love art and collect it, so Paris appealed to me. My therapists encouraged this step, as did Simon. And now, my first day at the Louvre! I want to fill my heart with beauty and finally shake off the remnants of my dark depression that has been my companion for far too long. I spent the morning wandering the halls of the Louvre, completely enchanted by the masterpieces that surrounded me. Every brushstroke, every sculpture and manuscript spoke to my soul, uplifting my spirit in a way I hadn't felt in years. I love French painters and I lingered over these paintings, absorbing them into my soul. Sure, I had to see the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo, like everyone else. But I've always been a fan of Egyptian art, and the Louvre has one of the largest collections outside of Egypt. I was absolutely mesmerized and lost in every piece, every story, every manuscript, every sculpture, every intriguing face. After the tour, I decided to grab an espresso at a nearby outdoor café along the Seine to reenergize myself and let the overwhelming experience sink in. As I sat sipping a strong cup of coffee and watching the world go by, I felt simply blissful. I closed my eyes and a memory, a fond memory, came to me. Eric had taken me on a surprise trip to the Grand Canyon for my birthday. Nick and Max had gone too, because they loved hiking and we all enjoyed each other's company.

He had arranged for a helicopter to take us there, which included a picnic lunch. The sun on my face now reminded me of how I had felt that day, so surprised and happy to be with my love in such a magnificent place. He was an amateur guitarist and had brought his guitar. The guys were joking around with him. I remember Nick saying, "Are you trying to tune that thing or should that be a song?" And as he was warming up, Max yelled, "Watch out, guys! We have a new Jimi Hendrix wannabe here." When we were at home, they would usually have something to say like, "Watch out, or you might summon the spirit of every cat in the neighborhood," so Eric would just laugh and be used to their banter. As we sat in the shade of the picnic area, enjoying our drinks and the vast expanse of nature, he strummed his guitar and sang a new song, just for me. One he had composed. I remember the silence around us, four little beings in the middle of a vast natural space, and the clear sounds of the guitar strings and his voice. It was a love song, and I still remember the words to this day. The last line echoes in my head now, and I remember the expression on Eric's face as he sang, and the unreadable look on Nick's face as he sat next to him: Under the vast canyon sky, our hearts soar, Hand in hand, we chase the sun into the night. With every star above, our love will always grow, Together forever, that's what I know. The boys teased him, but they were impressed, I remember thinking as I looked at their faces that day.

I loved the music and his clear voice, and I told him so... I slowly come back to the present of that day at the Grand Canyon, a small smile of fond remembrance on my face. I'm coming to terms with the loss and beginning to remember the good times we shared. The sunny terrace of Le Petit Café buzzed with the soft murmur of conversation and the clink of coffee cups. I leaned back in my wrought-iron chair, savoring the warmth on my face and the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans that emanated from the open doors behind me and flowed through my veins. Suddenly, a commotion erupted, shattering the peaceful afternoon. My eyes flew open in time to see a ragged man in a worn jacket snatch my nd. I

protector. Even more so after our parents passed away. And then again after Eric left. He's a shark, a rich and powerful man in the world, and many fear him. But with me, he's always been kind. I wish I could be more like him, stronger perhaps, but I'm more like our mother. She was quiet, sweet (sweeter than me!), and saw the best in everyone. I took over the Sinclair Charitable Foundation right after college, interning there as a student. Mom started it, and I wanted to continue her work.

I found joy in supporting animal rescues, providing scholarships to underprivileged children, advancing the foundation's cancer research, stocking food banks, and so on. It fulfilled my life, but it just wasn't enough when I lost Eric. I fell into a deep depression, some days not wanting to get out of bed. Simon appointed a temporary director for the foundation, Cecily Anderson. With his gentle guidance and unwavering support, he suggested I take some time for myself in a special place he knew, nestled in the Swiss Alps. For five months, I allowed myself to grieve, feel, and slowly rebuild myself with the help of professionals. Fresh air, a change of scenery, great therapists-all of it helped. I knew I was lucky to be getting treatment-so many people struggling with major depression don't have the same resources. I decided to add a branch to our Foundation for just that-helping people who are deeply depressed without resources-in the coming months, out of gratitude. As I grew stronger in spirit, good memories began to overwhelm the grief. Memories of Eric began to creep into my mind. And memories of Nick and Max, too. I felt like I was betraying Eric the day I thought of Nick romantically, but my therapist told me that was normal. That Eric would want me to move on and not stay stuck in a place of grief, not living. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. But eventually, a spark of adventure ignited within me.

I now yearned to explore, to experience life again, beyond the confines of my healing sanctuary. I love art and collect it, so Paris appealed to me. My therapists encouraged this step, as did Simon. And now, my first day at the Louvre! I want to fill my heart with beauty and finally shake off the remnants of my dark depression that has been my companion for far too long. I spent the morning wandering the halls of the Louvre, completely enchanted by the masterpieces that surrounded me. Every brushstroke, every sculpture and manuscript spoke to my soul, uplifting my spirit in a way I hadn't felt in years. I love French painters and I lingered over these paintings, absorbing them into my soul. Sure, I had to see the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo, like everyone else. But I've always been a fan of Egyptian art, and the Louvre has one of the largest collections outside of Egypt. I was absolutely mesmerized and lost in every piece, every story, every manuscript, every sculpture, every intriguing face. After the tour, I decided to grab an espresso at a nearby outdoor café along the Seine to reenergize myself and let the overwhelming experience sink in. As I sat sipping a strong cup of coffee and watching the world go by, I felt simply blissful. I closed my eyes and a memory, a fond memory, came to me. Eric had taken me on a surprise trip to the Grand Canyon for my birthday. Nick and Max had gone too, because they loved hiking and we all enjoyed each other's company. He had arranged for a helicopter to take us there, which included a picnic lunch. The sun on my face now reminded me of how I had felt that day, so surprised and happy to be with my love in such a magnificent place. He was an amateur guitarist and had brought his guitar. The guys were joking around with him.

I remember Nick saying, "Are you trying to tune that thing or should that be a song?" And as he was warming up, Max yelled, "Watch out, guys! We have a new Jimi Hendrix wannabe here." When we were at home, they would usually have something to say like, "Watch out, or you might summon the spirit of every cat in the neighborhood," so Eric would just laugh and be used to their banter. As we sat in the shade of the picnic area, enjoying our drinks and the vast expanse of nature, he strummed his guitar and sang a new song, just for me. One he had composed. I remember the silence around us, four little beings in the middle of a vast natural space, and the clear sounds of the guitar strings and his voice. It was a love song, and I still remember the words to this day. The last line echoes in my head now, and I remember the expression on Eric's face as he sang, and the unreadable look on Nick's face as he sat next to him: Under the vast canyon sky, our hearts soar, Hand in hand, we chase the sun into the night. With every star above, our love will always grow, Together forever, that's what I know. The boys teased him, but they were impressed, I remember thinking as I looked at their faces that day. I loved the music and his clear voice, and I told him so... I slowly come back to the present of that day at the Grand Canyon, a small smile of fond remembrance on my face. I'm coming to terms with the loss and beginning to remember the good times we shared. The sunny terrace of Le Petit Café buzzed with the soft murmur of conversation and the clink of coffee cups. I leaned back in my wrought-iron chair, savoring the warmth on my face and the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans that emanated from the open doors behind me and flowed through my veins. Suddenly, a commotion erupted, shattering the peaceful afternoon.

My eyes flew open in time to see a ragged man in a worn jacket snatch my bag from where it hung on the back of my chair. Before I could even react, a blur of movement caught my attention. "Hey! Stop right there, you thief! Arrête, voleur!" A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair ran after the pickpocket. His long stride quickly closed the distance between them. With a dive that would have made a rugby player proud, he tackled the thief to the ground. I stood up in shock and watched the scuffle, unsure of what to do. "Let go of that bag, now!" The Good Samaritan's voice was American, deep and authoritative. The commotion drew gasps and gasps from the other patrons. Chairs scraped against the concrete, some toppling over, as people stood up to get a better view of the action unfolding on the sidewalk. Some were taking photos or videos. After a brief struggle, my rescuer snatched the bag from the thief's hands. The pickpocket scrambled to his feet and ran away, disappearing around a corner. Breathing heavily, the man who had come to my rescue straightened. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and turned to face me. Our eyes met, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. He was strikingly handsome, with chiseled features and piercing dark eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners as he gave me a crooked smile. He walked over to my table, my rescued bag held out before him like an offering. "I believe this belongs to you, madam," he said, his voice softer now but still rich with a hint of amusement. Our fingers brushed as I took the bag from him, sending an unexpected tingle down my arm. "It's mademoiselle, not madame. Thank you," I managed, feeling a little dazed. "That was... incredibly brave of you. Thank you very much." He shrugged, the movement accentuating his broad shoulders beneath his well-fitted shirt. "I only did what anyone would do. Are you all right?" The café owner hurried outside. "Are you all right, mademoiselle, monsieur? Should I call the police?" "I don't think that's necessary. The

before I could think twice. The heroic stranger turned, his thick dark hair falling over his forehead. With one smooth movement, he brushed it away, revealing dark eyes that could melt any heart. I couldn't help but notice his impeccable attire-a crisp white shirt tucked into tailored trousers, topped off with a navy blue blazer. He was certainly not your average tourist. "It would be my pleasure," he replied, his voice rich.

He slid into the chair, his movements strong and sure. "I'm Arial," I offered, suddenly aware of the way my hands were shaking slightly as I lifted my cup. "Dominic. Dominic Bennett," he replied with a smile that made my breath catch. "I must say, I don't usually rescue damsels in distress like this." A laugh bubbled up from my chest, surprising me with its genuineness. When was the last time I laughed like that? "Well, I'm glad you did. It would have been quite a disaster to lose my passport, cards, and money like that." "Are you okay?" He noticed my hand shaking. "Yes, I am." It was all a shock. It happened so fast. The waiter arrived with a coffee, placing it in front of the heroic man. He added a little sugar and stirred. I could watch him as he looked down, intent on his steaming task. He really was very handsome. Dominic looked up and gave me a serious, soft look that sent a shiver down my spine. "Well, I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time. So glad to have been of service to such a beautiful woman. What brings you to Paris, Arial?" The question hung in the air, and I hesitated. How much should I reveal to this handsome stranger?

"I needed a change of scenery," I said finally, opting for a half-truth. "What about you? Business or pleasure?" "A bit of both, actually." I'm here finishing up some work, but I always take time to soak up the local culture before I head back to the States. Our conversation flowed easily. We talked about everything from the incredible beauty of Paris to the best croissants and prettiest streets. Dominic knew Paris well, I could tell from our conversation. But he was also well-traveled. He regaled me with stories of his frequent travels, from Rome to Istanbul to Hong Kong. He was articulate and witty, his stories painting vivid pictures of his travels around the world. As we talked, I found myself leaning forward, captivated by his words and the way his eyes crinkled as he spoke. For the first time in months, the heavy weight of grief that had been my constant companion seemed to lift. Paris and a handsome hero! An hour passed, but it felt like only a few minutes. "Arial, can I offer you a ride somewhere? My limo is right there," he gestured. He's rich, I thought. Maybe my background doesn't scare him. I'm filthy rich. But I try to use my money for good, following in my mother's footsteps. I'll be running the charity again when I get home, I tell myself firmly. "Thank you, Dominic.

That's very kind of you," I say as we stand to walk to the limo. I've grown comfortable enough with him after our conversation. I don't think he'd kidnap me, I chuckle. He's too handsome, heroic, and accomplished for that. He opens the door for me. The soft leather of the limo seats caress my skin as I slide inside, still a little shaken from the pickpocket incident. Dominic settles in beside me, his presence both comforting and intriguing. "Where to, mademoiselle?" His voice is like honey, sweet and rich. "To the Hotel George V, if it's not too much trouble. That's where I'm staying." Dominic's eyebrows rise in surprise, and he chuckles. One I could get used to, I think. "Well, Paris must be a small world indeed." I'm staying there, too." "Really? What are the chances?" I couldn't help but smile. "Fate works in mysterious ways." He winked, sending butterflies through my chest. As the limo glided through the streets of Paris, we continued to talk. Dominic had a way of making me feel at ease, his conversation infectious. "I must say, I'm glad that thief brought us together," he said, his hand brushing against mine. "It's not every day I get the chance to rescue someone as intriguing as you." I rolled my eyes playfully. "I wouldn't call it rescue. It was more like rescuing my purse," I laughed. "Call it what you will." His gaze lingered on mine. "I'm just glad I met you, Arial." The way he said my name made me light up a little. There was something about Dominic, a magnetic pull that I couldn't quite explain. As the limo pulled up in front of the hotel, I realized I didn't want our time together to end. Dominic must have felt it too. "What do you say we continue this conversation over dinner tonight? I know a lovely little restaurant not far from here." I hesitated for only a moment before nodding.

"I would love to." His smile was dazzling as he helped me out of the limo. "See you tonight then, Arial. I'll meet you in the lobby at 7," he said as we said our goodbyes. Chapter Three Arial with Dominic in Paris The morning light dances across my face as I wake from a peaceful sleep, my heart filled with a new sense of hope and excitement. Could it be possible? After all the pain and loss, have I found someone who could be my match, my hero even? Someone who could help me on my new path in life? And while I'm visiting Paris! How romantic. I stretch lazily, a smile playing on my lips as memories of yesterday flood my mind. The way we met at the café and our romantic dinner last night make me feel things I haven't felt since Eric. I'm so glad I decided to come to Paris. Dominic. His name alone sends a shiver of delight through me. The moment we met at the café, after he stopped the thief and saved my belongings, there was an instant connection. His deep, captivating eyes and soft smile drew me in.

When we started talking about art and his travels, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. When he suggested dinner, I couldn't resist. Our dinner last night was like a scene from a movie. We ate in a charming little restaurant on the banks of the Seine, with the candlelight casting a warm glow over the table. Dominic was mesmerizing-his voice, a soft, deep, melodious timbre, weaving more stories about his travels and passions and his knowledge of Paris. He listened intently as I spoke, his eyes never leaving mine, making me feel like the most important person in the world. "I have to say, Arial, I have no one in my life, and you are bringing me to life. Your enthusiasm for art is truly inspiring," he said, reaching across the table to gently take my hand. His touch was electric, sending a jolt through my being. "I've always dreamed of finding someone like you." I was thrilled to hear those words, but they seemed too much, too fast. Could a man like this really dream of finding someone like me? I blushed a little and pulled my hand away. "Paris has always been a dream of mine. Experiencing it with someone like you made it even more special," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me, do you have someone in your life, Arial? Should I worry about turning away boyfriends? I can only imagine they're lining up for you," he said, his face unreadable

. I couldn't talk about my lost love, Eric. Not yet. There had been no one else before or since him. "There's no one else, not now," I whispered, feeling emotional but not wanting to explain. Not yet. He took my hand again and smiled, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. "Well, that's encouraging to me. I'm glad to hear it. There's