The Billionaire's Wicked Game

Nina's POV

Aphrodisiac.

A food, drink, or substance that stimulates absolute desire.

Can food, or even the act of eating, put someone in the mood for love?

The answer is yes, but not in the way one might think.

Food hasn't been proven to ignite passion physically, but it can suggest it to the mind, trigger a craving that has nothing to do with hunger. The mind plays tricks, flipping switches we never knew existed.

And he did that.

A flick of a switch.

A smirk laced with mischief.

Eyes as icy as the winter wind.

Touches that barely lingered, yet burned.

A voice smooth as aged whiskey.

He left me wanting more.

As I park my faded red Honda, I let out a breath of relief. Fifteen minutes. That's how long it took to wedge myself into this tight parking spot. A struggle. A performance, really-one that earned me a few sympathetic looks and judgmental headshakes from strangers.

I lost count of how many times I reversed, moved forward, reversed again, and-guess what?-reversed once more.

Downtown parking is a scam. Limited space. Outrageous fees. But today, I needed a change of scenery. A distraction.

Clutching my overpriced five-dollar coffee, I step onto the sidewalk. Seriously, how do rich people sleep at night charging five dollars for a cup of beans and water? The worst part? I keep paying for it. My own fault. Two coffee machines sit untouched on my kitchen shelf, collecting dust, yet here I am, swiping my debit card like a fool.

With my earbuds in, I let the music drown out my thoughts as I make my way toward the river.

The park is the same as always.

The old man on the bench is still alive good for him. The overly tanned cougar is still eyeing high school boys-gross. Kids are running around without parental supervision as usual.

And here I am. Again.

I was here a month ago, having a nervous breakdown about graduating college. Five years of brutal, expensive effort, and for what?

No direction. No dream job. No certainty.

College is a scam.

Every student knows the drill-sign up for the easiest professor, pray for a D to magically become a B, plan a vacation you can't afford, and juggle relationships that barely survive finals week.

And the grand prize at the end? Unemployment.

Welcome to adulthood. A place where you submit a hundred job applications for positions you're not even interested in, dodge calls from loan sharks, and decide which bill is less urgent to pay this month.

The single word that defines us all? Stress.

Maybe it's the chilly weather. Maybe it's the blinding sun. Either way, my bitter self is surfacing today, and I don't care enough to shove it back down.

I sink onto the wet park bench, the cold immediately seeping through my jeans. Fantastic. I knew I should've checked before sitting.

Then, suddenly,

Two figures.

Jogging toward me.

I glance up, my curiosity piqued. The first guy is tall, fit, dirty blonde. His black t-shirt clings to his muscles, his grey sweatpants hang just right**. Even seated, I can tell he's at least six feet.

But it's the man next to him that stops my heart.

He's taller, broader, effortlessly commanding.

Messy light brown hair, barely concealing piercing blue eyes.

A white t-shirt stretched over hard muscle.

A presence so powerful, it's almost cinematic.

My brain short-circuits.

Why aren't they cold? It's January. I'm wearing three layers, and they're out here half-dressed like Greek gods.

Then it happens.

His eyes lock onto mine.

Icy blues.

For a fleeting second, the world stills.

The edge of his lips twitch, almost into a smirk-but not quite. His broad chest rises and falls, his breath a mix of frost and fire. Sweat trails from his temple down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar.

I can hear every cell in my body screaming at me to jump him.

Great. A one-way ticket to a harassment charge. I can see the headlines now:

Delusional broke girl tackles billionaire in public park."

So, I do the next best thing-I slap a hand over my face, pretending there's something in my eye.

Smooth.

Real smooth, Nina.

My leg bounces uncontrollably, my cheeks burning as I fake-text on my phone.

I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until they pass.

The scent lingers-sweat and apples.

An odd combination, yet somehow intoxicating.

I glance around, realizing every woman in the park is staring after them.

Of course, they are. They're gorgeous.

A low snort escapes me.

I wouldn't mind being underneath him. Screaming his name. Clawing his broad back.

Marking my territory.

But men like that? They're dangerous. The type who collect hearts and shatter them without a second thought.

I'd never even cross paths with them.

I'm a nobody. They breathe a different kind of air-one laced with power and privilege.

I shake my head, laughing softly.

I have a boyfriend. A decent, reliable one.

But looking? Looking isn't cheating.

And damn, what a view.

The next day, I find myself back at the park.

I failed my chemistry exam. I need a break.

Staring up at the gray sky, I silently curse God for not giving me a photographic memory.

But let's be honest-it's not God's fault. I probably should have studied.

I settle onto my usual bench, earbuds in, music drowning out my frustration.

Then,

A shadow.

A tall figure approaching me.

I blink, shoving my glasses onto my face.

Icy blue eyes.

My breath catches.

Him.

He stands before me, hands tucked into the pockets of his black sweats.

The tip of his tongue traces his lips, wetting the dry skin, before he bites down gently.

He clears his throat. Once. Twice.

Then,

"Hi."

My pulse skips a beat.

Nina's POV

His voice was exactly what I expected-deep, commanding, with a timbre that sent a shiver down my spine. If it had been high-pitched, I probably would've run to the bathroom to laugh myself breathless. But no, fate had to play a cruel joke on me by giving this man a voice that could make a nun rethink her vows.

My breath hitched. Heat spread through me, curling around my senses, making my pulse race. No, no, no. I had a boyfriend. A perfectly decent, loving boyfriend. I clenched my fists, forcing my body to ignore the involuntary reaction to this man's presence.

I glanced around, hoping praying that he wasn't speaking to me. But there was no one else. No escape.

"Umm... me?" I pointed at myself, my voice barely steady.

"Yes." His confidence was unshakable, his gaze sharp. He rubbed the back of his neck, the motion causing his shirt to shift just enough for me to catch sight of something silver at his throat-a ring, strung on a black cord, resting against his skin. Simple. Elegant. Infuriatingly beautiful, just like the man wearing it.

I swallowed hard as he studied me. "Can I help you?" I asked, attempting to sound unaffected.

"I see you here often," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. His stance was casual, but something about him radiated intensity. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out sometime."

A date? With him?

My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. I had been admired before, approached before, but never by someone like him. He was the kind of man who turned heads, the kind who didn't have to ask-he simply had to exist.

And yet, he was asking me.

I blinked. "But... we're outside."

Smooth, Nina. Very smooth.

A slow, amused smile curved his lips, revealing a single deep dimple. A dimple? As if the universe hadn't already made him dangerously attractive.

"How about a real date?" he asked, his voice dipping lower, rougher.

"I don't eat that fruit."

He stilled. "What?"

"Dates," I clarified, my nerves twisting into a chaotic mess. "They hurt my teeth."

He blinked once, twice-then let out a deep, rumbling laugh that sent another illicit shiver down my spine. "Too sweet for you?"

You're too sweet for me, Mister Perfect.

"Yes, way too sweet," I said, forcing a breath. "Do you like eating dates?"

His lips quirked. "I don't need them. Looking at your sweet self already gives me cavities."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes to mask the heat creeping up my neck. "Corny much?"

He smirked. "Not exactly smooth, huh?"

"Ever consider going to the library?"

He tilted his head. "For what?"

"There's a book called Flirting for Dummies."

The way his smirk deepened made my stomach tighten. "Alright," he murmured, stepping closer.

The scent of him-something dark and rich, like sandalwood and whiskey-wrapped around me, making it impossible to focus.

"You know," he said, "dates have their benefits."

"Such as?" I managed, barely.

"Hm." He took another step, the space between us shrinking. "They aid in hangovers, reduce the risk of certain cancers, and boost energy."

I swallowed. "Every fruit does that."

"Not like this one," he countered. "Dates are known to boost sexual energy."

My breath caught. "Strawberries can do the same thing."

He leaned in, his gaze locking onto mine. "You like strawberries?"

"I love strawberries."

"Plain?"

"No. With chocolate."

His lips curved into a sinful smile. "What about whipped cream?"

A million inappropriate thoughts crashed through my brain at once. "I like them on my strawberries too."

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, his voice dangerously low. "I prefer them on something else."

My throat dried. I should've walked away. I should've reminded myself-I have a boyfriend.

But I didn't move.

He raised a finger, motioning for me to come closer. And like a fool, I did. His thigh brushed mine as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his breath ghosting over my skin.

"Ice cream," he whispered.

I burst into laughter, shoving him back. "Oh, of course! How foolish of me to forget such an important dessert."

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, his smile laced with something deeper. Something dangerous.

"I'm not really a fruit guy," he admitted.

I arched a brow. "What kind of guy are you?"

He stepped in close, closer than before, his presence overwhelming. "More of a seafood kind of guy."

"Oh really? What's your favorite type of seafood?"

His voice dipped, his lips brushing dangerously close to my ear. "Oysters."

I sucked in a breath, my mind short-circuiting.

"You know," he continued, "there's a method to eating oysters."

My throat went dry. "I-I didn't know that."

"Most people don't." His fingers ghosted over mine, sending a jolt straight through me. "You can't just eat it. You have to prepare it. Savor it. Drink the juice, consume it slowly, like it's your last."

The air between us tightened, charged with something electric, something unspoken. My knees felt weak. I needed to leave. Now.

"I-I have a boyfriend!" I blurted, stumbling back, my heart slamming against my ribs.

His expression flickered-something unreadable passing through those icy blue eyes before he masked it. He started to say something, but my phone rang, saving me from my own damnation.

"I have to go," I muttered, barely able to meet his gaze.

He watched me, silent, as I turned and left, my pulse a chaotic mess.

As I reached my car, I glanced back-just once. He stood there, his friend laughing beside him, but his gaze was locked on me. A single step forward, hesitation, then he pulled back.

I tore my gaze away, forcing myself to breathe.

I had a boyfriend. This was wrong.

So why did it feel like the most exhilarating thing that had ever happened to me?

Nina's POV

Serendipity is known by many names: synchronicity, fate, coincidence, fortuity.

It's the idea that when you move in the direction you're supposed to be going and take specific actions, the universe has a way of stepping in and guiding you.

Serendipity is when action entwines with faith, and together, both seem to swirl along to the beautiful symphonies.

Are you my serendipity?

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I debated whether I should go back to the park or find a new one.

Yes, an overly attractive man asked me out two days ago, and I said no. Yes, he made a lot of suggestive comments, and I let him. But why do I feel bad? It's not like I accepted his invitation and cheated on my boyfriend. It's not like he owns the park. What are the chances I'll see him again?

I couldn't stop my endless train of thoughts. I couldn't stop thinking about him.

I glance at the clock, 3:00 p.m. Luck was on my side today. My professor, or, as I liked to call him, the devil ended class early.

If I go to the park early, I won't see him. Perfect. Sounds like a plan.

Grabbing my keys and earphones, I drove my crappy, beat-up car to the park. It still runs, so why not?

On the way, my eyes caught sight of a small coffee shop. I'd driven past it countless times but never went in.

Today, I pulled over.

Grabbing my purse, I walked toward the small joint.

Inside, I was greeted by the warmth of a burning fireplace, the scent of coffee beans, and several green plants. Bookshelves lined the walls. Instantly, I liked this place. I would be back.

A young lady behind the counter smiled. "Hello, what can I get for you?"

"A latte with whipped cream, please." I dug into my black hole of a purse. I don't know why I carry around such a large bag when I never use anything in it. But I know that the day I decide not to, I'll need it.

"Coming right up."

After several brutal minutes of searching and an awkward stare from the cashier, I finally found a five-dollar bill. Releasing a breath of relief, I paid and took a seat by the window.

Rain gently hit the glass as people frantically scattered to get indoors. I love the rain; it's soothing. It makes me want to bundle up in a giant fluffy blanket by the fire with hot cocoa.

I was lost in thought when a light tap on my shoulder pulled me back. I pulled out an earphone.

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" An overwhelmingly familiar deep voice asked.

The temperature spiked, breaking the thermometer-it was suffocatingly hot.

I swallowed and slowly turned my head.

Him.

I shook my head. "No."

Take the seat and go away. Take it and go away.

He gave me a simple, heart-throbbing smile and sat down.

Okay, not what I expected.

It seemed like this man didn't take no for an answer. And let's be real, he was no boy. He was a man.

He wore a white T-shirt that clung to his biceps and black sweats. Water dripped down his sharp, stubbled jaw to his broad chest. My gaze followed the drop's path.

I swallowed loudly.

His lips were chapped from the cold air, and when I finally met his gaze, piercing icy blues he was already staring at me.

My eyes snapped down to the table.

After a few awkward minutes, the barista delivered our drinks.

I smiled involuntarily when I saw the heart drawn into my latte's foam. I love little coffee art.

My eyes trailed from my cup to his.

"Black?" I accidentally blurted.

He lifted a brow and nodded. "Yup. My favorite."

I scrunched my nose. "Isn't it bitter?"

He took a sip. "Certainly is."

"Ever try it with a teaspoon of almond milk?" I asked.

"No."

"Try it. Gives a bit of a sweet kick."

He leaned forward. "How sweet?"

"Not too sweet. Just enough to get you addicted." I rested my chin on my palm.

One side of his lips tilted upward-almost a smile. "Fascinating."

He mirrored my posture, leaning closer. "And if I don't get addicted?"

I shrugged. "Return to black coffee."

He leaned back, crossed his arms, and stretched out his long legs. "Don't you get bored?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Of?"

"Drinking the same old thing. Try something new. Step out of your boundaries."

I smirked. "I think I'll try something new," he said suggestively.

Before I knew it, we were talking like old friends, laughing, teasing, sharing stories.

"Yeah, I climbed out of the window to grab my dog. My adorable but foolish dog. When I tried to go back inside, the security system denied my passcode. I was locked out for five hours. In my boxers."

I covered my mouth, trying to contain my laughter. "Why didn't you call someone?"

"Left my phone inside. Then I tried to break in. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by ten cop cars."

I erupted in laughter. But when I glanced at my phone, I frowned. 9:26 p.m.

Looking down, I realized we had six empty coffee cups between us.

Great. No more coffee for the rest of the week.

Scanning the shop, I noticed only us and a lone worker at the counter, glued to his phone.

I stood up. "Sorry, but it's getting late. I have to go."

He followed suit, scratching his neck. "Wait. I wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn't know you had a boyfriend. I hope you don't feel weird."

I smiled. "Not weird at all." Truthfully, it boosted my confidence. Not everyone gets hit on by a supermodel.

He laughed lightly. "Want to grab coffee or lunch sometime? Just as friends."

I hesitated.

"I don't have any hidden intentions. I just enjoy talking to you, Nina." He ran a hand through his messy hair, smiling slightly, showing off a single deep dimple.

I reached for my phone, knocking over my coffee, right onto his lap.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" I grabbed napkins and frantically dabbed his pants.

"Nina, it's okay." He grabbed my wrist, trying to stop me, but I kept cleaning.

"Nina. I don't think this is a good idea."

"What isn't?"

He looked toward the worker. I followed his gaze.

The guy behind the counter was staring. Jaw dropped.

Looking back at my hands, I realized where I was patting.

Oh.

My.

God.

I yanked my hands away. "I wasn't, ! I'm not! I'M NOT A PERVERT!"

Ruffled laughter escaped him. "I know. But that's not what others think."

My cheeks burned.

He grinned. "How about instead of coffee, you buy me a sandwich? As payment for ruining my clothes?"

I twisted my lips, debating...