The Billionaire Who Secretly Stole My Heart

Eve's POV

I have always been careful. Careful of the choices I made, careful of my life, and most of all my heart. But that night, I didn't know what came over me, because this feeling of recklessness was what I felt. Something I hadn't felt in years.

The bass thumped through my veins, the drink left this cold burn on my hand, and across the crowded room, my eyes locked with his. I should have looked away. Better still, I should have walked away, but something was in the intensity of his gaze that pinned me down.

I had no idea who this man was, and I cared less. He was too hot, his face glittering, his ocean blue eyes staring deep into mine, with his thick brown hair that fell to his brows.

I lacked words to express how magnificent he was. As he raised his hand to pick the shot he had ordered from the barman, he smelt rich. If I guessed right, it was the St. Louis perfume he wore. Fuck knows the last time I checked it at the mall, the price wasn't smiling.

Perhaps my nose was deceiving me. I didn't smell it right.

No, I knew what that smell was . Ah, just then he became more mysterious when I saw his Rolex wristwatch. How was someone as rich as he is doing in such a cheap bar?

"Are you rich?" I was propelled to ask in my intoxicated state.

"What do you think?" His deep husky voice asked.

"My guts tells me you're one of those guys that come here and show off, squandering their little cash on drinks and girls."

"And I look like one of them?"

"Not exactly...nevermind. My feelings can be pointless at times."

Silence fell as the beat that buzzed my ears grew louder, louder than before. Then I noticed his brows fall and his chiseled jaw drop. It was obvious he was weary the moment he gulped the shot.

"Only sad folks drink that way." I said, rubbing my palm against my forehead. That was the hypocrisy I exhibited when I myself was sad and drunk.

"Nah, I'm way more than that. Just disappointed."

"In who?"

He gulped another, "In what?, you should ask."

"I'm all ears." I wrestled with my woven bracelet.

"Disappointed in that thing called love. Love is shit." He chuckled. A chuckle that one could easily tell he was depressed and in extreme pain. Emotional pain."Cheers to us that believe love sucks."

He raises his glass as I clinked mine with his.

"Not that I believe love sucks, I just find it tiring. I don't have the time and effort to put into it."

"Are you homosexual?"

"Absolutely not." His eyes peered into mine with a short smile that ignited something in my belly. I never knew I could start such a touching conversation with a stranger. Funny thing was that it went well.

Before I knew it, his lips pressed against mine. I struggled to pull away when I felt his warm palm around my waist. And his kisses are more intense.

I finally managed to withdraw myself. For crying out loud, I was in a bar kissing a total stranger. What if he was a criminal or something worse than that.

I looked around, hoping no one saw us.

"What was that for?" I said in a whisper.

Even though something deep down in me enjoyed him. He was undeniably a good kisser. Fascinating.

"I love your lips. Way better and kissable, compared to my ex's." A glint of a smile brushed against my face.

"I get that a lot."

"After they kiss you or...?"

Huh? Did he hear me say that?

Fuck me.

"I only let people I like kiss me."

"It means you like me."

"I never said that..." I looked over my shoulder, butterflies. How I wish he could stop with the teasing.

No, never stop.

Suddenly, I felt his hand draw my jaw to his face as he kissed me slowly, then faster, our tongues wrestling intimate wars , and pleasurable noise nearly rising above the bass beat.

Fuck knows.

I cared less at this point. I didn't give a fuck if anyone saw me.

I felt his heart beat at the same rate as mine when I placed my arms on his chest. His muscular body being the type every lady craves for.

"Hey...do you guys want to do this somewhere else?" The bar man asked, irritation written all over him, bringing us to a halt.

"We'll be glad if you give us space." Mystery guy said as the bar man bar man pointed to a door that read "store."

What? We're doing that shit in a store?

He looked at me, his eyes reassuring me. Of course I couldn't say no.

Blurb:

"Take off your clothes..." His chill voice howled in my ears.

We had already had the best kiss of our lives the moment he pulled off his pants as I saw his cock hungry, outstretched, calling out for me.

His gaze locked with mine, filled with intense desire and want for my body.

He ripped my dress, leaving me bare before him. Then his slow kisses and touch traced up my neck as he pulled me up, his hand grabbing my butt cheeks as he pushed me against the wall.

Before I knew it, I felt something inside of me...He had thrusted his dick. His movement was slow and passionate.

I wanted more...couldn't resist the urge..."Fuck me harder" I whispered.

He let go of my cupped ass. What had happened?

He quickly cleared bottles of drinks with a swipe of his hand that made the bottles shatter in my ears. He swept me off the ground again to the table.

Hope it wasn't what I was thinking.

"Spread your legs." He said. I was indeed loving it.

I must confess that no one has ever fucked me like he did. He pulled me to the edge of the table and spread open my legs as he licked my clit, making me wet already.

I gasped as I gripped the corners of the table feeling the tip of his tongue on me...The feeling of him grew more familiar and mesmerizing as he tilted my head backwards and sunk fully inside me.

Then I felt his hand grab my breasts, slowly squeezing it as he sucked my nipple. I felt the sensation tied from my breast to my pussy.

It was the weirdest place I had ever had sex (drunk by the way.) But guess what made me stay...his kisses, the way his hand moved against my thigh...the way he fucked me.

Christ.

Everything was on another level entirely. I wish we hadn't done it. No, I'm glad we did. It'd be stupid of me to let go off a good looking man in the name of my morals.

I could let go of my morals at that point,cause I knew if I ever got to tell Susana I had met such a guy and didn't do anything with him...God knows she'd chop my head off.

I could still feel him on me as I wore my bra, adjusting the strap.

It was dawn already when I realized that aunt Sarah existed. Geez, she'd rip my soul apart. I quickly wore my panties and dressed up. Thank God he didn't wake up the moment I shut the door.

I didn't even get his name or steal a last glance at him cause shame was what I felt. Extreme shame.

I had dressed up and gotten all my things packed in my handbag, but something was missing. A part of me was gone.

What if I was just being delusional cause I searched a hundred times?

I snuck out of the bar and didn't hesitate in calling a cab, "Green valley." I said as he drove off in full speed.

I promised to double his pay if only he did as I said (drive on high speed obviously).

Only God knew what awaited me at home.

As the cab sped through the lit, empty streets, my mind replayed the night's events. I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. Just then, my phone buzzed in my bag. I fumbled to retrieve it, expecting a message from Aunt Sarah.

Instead, an unknown number flashed on the screen. With a hesitant breath, I answered.

"Eve?" The voice was deep, unfamiliar, and sent chills down my spine. You left something behind."

My heart pounded. "Who is this?

A low chuckle came through the line. Let's just say, I'll be seeing you very scon."

The call ended abruptly, leaving me with a gnawing sense of dread.I checked my bag again, and my heart sank as I realized what was missing. my wallet, containing my ID, my credit cards, and something far more personal, a photo of my late mother.

Panic surged through me as the cab turned Into Green Valley. What had I gotten myself into?

Ziah's POV

The city skyline stretched out before me as the car sped through the streets. My mind was full of thoughts, but one thing stood out: the email from Jessie. My father was in the hospital, and nothing else seemed to matter.

As Chris drove, I could feel the tension in the car. He knew me well enough to sense my worry, but he kept his eyes on the road, pushing the car to its limits.

"Faster, Chris," I urged, my voice betraying the anxiety I felt.

The truth was, my relationship with my father had always been complicated. He was a man of power, a figure who commanded respect wherever he went. But he was also distant, cold even, never showing the warmth a father should to his son. Still, he was my father, and the thought of losing him brought a tightness to my chest that I couldn't shake.

The car skidded to a stop in front of the hospital, and I was out the door before Chris could even fully park. My feet carried me through the entrance and down the sterile, white corridors, the harsh lighting adding to the surreal feeling of the moment. I reached the reception desk, and the nurse looked up, recognizing me instantly.

"Mr. Randolph, your father is in the ICU," she said, her tone a mixture of professionalism and sympathy. "Room 312."

I didn't waste time thanking her. My heart skipped as I made my way to the room. When I finally reached the door, I paused, my hand hovering over the handle. I wasn't sure what I was going to find on the other side, and the fear of the unknown made me hesitate. But only for a moment. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

There he was. The man who had always seemed larger than life now lay in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed softly. His eyes were closed, his face pale and drawn. The sight of him like this hit me harder than I expected, and for a moment, I just stood there, unable to move.

"Ziah..." Jessie's voice broke through the fog in my mind. She was standing at the foot of the bed, her usual confident demeanor replaced with something more vulnerable, almost fragile.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

She looked at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn't quite place-was it guilt? Fear? "He collapsed during a meeting," she said quietly. "The doctors say it was a heart attack. They're doing everything they can."

I swallowed hard, trying to process the information. A heart attack. My father, the man who seemed indestructible, had been brought down by something as common as a heart attack. The irony wasn't lost on me, but there was no time to dwell on it.

I moved closer to the bed, my eyes fixed on the frail figure of my father. "Is he... is he going to be okay?"

Jessie hesitated, then nodded slowly. "The doctors are optimistic, but it's still touch and go. He's a fighter, Ziah. You know that."

I did know that. My father had always been a fighter, someone who never backed down from a challenge. But seeing him like this made me realize how fragile life really was, how quickly things could change.

I reached out and took his hand in mine. It was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth I remembered from my childhood. "Dad... I'm here," I said, not sure if he could hear me, but needing to say the words anyway. "You're going to get through this."

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor. I could feel Jessie's eyes on me, but I didn't look at her. I couldn't. My mind was too focused on the man lying in the bed, the man who had shaped so much of who I was.

As the minutes ticked by, I found myself thinking about all the things I had never said to him, all the unresolved issues between us. I squeezed his hand tighter, as if that could somehow make up for all the lost time.

"Ziah..." Jessie's voice was soft, almost hesitant. I finally looked up at her, and for the first time, I saw something in her eyes that I hadn't seen before-vulnerability.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She bit her lip, as if unsure of how to say what was on her mind. "I... I think there's something you should know."

My heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I wasn't entirely honest with you about... everything. There's more to this, Ziah. More than just a heart attack."

Her words sent a chill down my spine. "What are you talking about, Jessie?"

She hesitated again, then finally spoke. "Your father was under a lot of stress, Ziah. And... some of it was because of me."

Her admission hung in the air between us, heavy and ominous. I stared at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

"What do you mean, because of you?" I demanded, my voice rising.

She looked away, unable to meet my eyes. "There were... things I was pressuring him about. Things that... maybe I shouldn't have."

Anger flared in my chest, but I pushed it down. Now wasn't the time. "We'll talk about this later," I said, my voice tight. "Right now, I need to focus on my father."

Jessie nodded, and for a moment, we were both silent, the tension between us palpable.

As I sat there, holding my father's hand, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change. My world had already been turned upside down, but I knew that whatever Jessie had to say could only make things worse.

Eve's POV

I tiptoed into my room, silently hoping Aunt Sarah wasn't home. The moment of peace in this house was rare, and I needed it now more than ever. My life felt like a series of unfortunate events, starting with the loss of my parents in that tragic accident. Every day was a struggle, and Aunt Sarah never missed an opportunity to remind me of my misfortune.

Dropping to the floor, I leaned against the bed, my mind filled with thoughts of the night before. The one-night stand with a stranger was a reckless decision, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it meant more than just a mistake. My missing wallet was another issue, containing my only identification and savings. Now, facing Aunt Sarah's wrath seemed like the least of my worries.

The door creaked open, and my heart sank. Aunt Sarah stood there, her eyes filled with contempt.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, her voice cold and cutting.

"I lost track of time," I muttered, avoiding her gaze. My attempt to stay calm only fueled her anger.

She grabbed my arm, dragging me to the living room. "You think you can just come and go as you please? You're nothing without me, Eve."

Her words cut deep, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I'd learned long ago that tears only made things worse.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," she spat, slapping me across the face. The sting burned, but I swallowed the pain. I had to be stronger than this.

She stormed off, leaving me alone in the room. My thoughts were a jumble of fear and anger. I couldn't stay here anymore. I had to find a way out, a place where I could start fresh.

I packed a few belongings into a small suitcase, my hands shaking as I prepared to leave. As I reached for my piggy bank, my heart stopped. The side of it was torn open, and when I shook it, nothing but empty air greeted me.

"Aunt Sarah!" I yelled, running through the house. She emerged from her room, a smug look on her face.

"Where's my money?" I demanded, my voice trembling with rage.

"Your money?" she mocked. "You mean the money my son borrowed? He said he'd pay it back, so what's the problem?"

"My life savings... all gone?" I could hardly believe it. Everything I had worked for, stolen in a heartbeat.

"You should be grateful I've let you stay here as long as you have," she sneered. "Maybe now you'll learn that life doesn't owe you anything."

The despair I felt was overwhelming, but I couldn't let it consume me. I had to leave, even if it meant walking out with nothing. I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Aunt Sarah's voice was sharp.

"Anywhere but here," I shot back, stepping outside into the cool evening air.

The door slammed shut behind me, but I didn't look back. I couldn't afford to. Samantha's house was a few blocks away, and as much as I hated to impose on her, I had no other choice.

When I knocked on her door, Samantha opened it, her expression shifting from surprise to concern in an instant. "Eve, what happened?"

I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Everything poured out-Aunt Sarah's abuse, the stolen money, and my desperate need for escape.

Samantha pulled me into a tight hug. "You're staying here. We'll figure something out."

Her words were a lifeline, and as I settled onto her couch that night, I knew I had a long road ahead of me. But with Samantha by my side, I felt a flicker of hope for the first time in years.