Her Ruthless Billionaire Savior

Chapter Six: Derrick

I’ve been in London for two weeks overseeing one of our major projects. Perfection is my standard, so naturally, I needed to be there in person. Now, as I sit aboard my jet heading back to New York, my mind shifts to the mountain of tasks waiting for me.

The moment I land, I instruct my driver to take me straight to the office. Julia, my secretary, greets me as I stride through the doors, but I merely grunt in response.

“Welcome back, sir,” she says, trailing behind me into my office.

“Thank you. What’s on my schedule today?” I ask while powering up my computer.

She starts listing appointments and updates, but one detail catches my attention.

“...Your uncle called and requested that you visit him today,” she says, her tone hesitant.

I sigh, already irritated. “You can go now, Julia.”

She nods and leaves, and I dive into my work. Hours pass before I decide it’s time to visit my uncle.

At his estate, Rose, his housekeeper, opens the door. “Good evening, Mr. Derrick,” she greets.

“Where is he?” I ask brusquely.

“In his study.”

On my way there, I pass the dining room and catch sight of her—the young woman I noticed at dinner during my last visit. She’s seated alone, eating quietly. There’s an air of innocence about her that seems misplaced in this house.

I pause, watching her for a moment. She glances up, her eyes meeting mine, wide like a startled deer.

Clearing my throat, I say sternly, “I was looking for my uncle.”

Before she can respond, I walk away, making a mental note to ask about her.

I knock once on the study door before stepping inside. My uncle, puffing on a cigar, greets me with a knowing smile.

“How nice of you to visit,” he says, exhaling smoke.

“Good evening, Uncle,” I reply, taking a seat across from him and crossing my legs.

“You didn’t return my calls,” he remarks, his tone laced with accusation.

“I’ve been busy. I’m here now. What do you need?”

He chuckles. “Ever the cold one, aren’t you?”

I don’t respond, and he gets the hint, moving to the point.

“You’ll be attending the Mave Ball, won’t you?”

“I received the invitation,” I say noncommittally.

“Good. I’ll be attending with Lola.”

Her name piques my curiosity, though I keep my expression neutral. “Who is Lola?”

“Ah, I haven’t introduced you two yet. She’s my new… guest,” he says, the word dripping with self-satisfaction.

“I don’t follow.”

He grins, leaning back in his chair. “Her father owes me money. Lola is my collateral.”

I arch a brow, masking my distaste. “How much does he owe?”

My question irritates him. “Twenty thousand dollars.”

I scoff before I can stop myself. “That’s nothing. You’ve taken a woman as collateral for that? I'm sorry Uncle but that is beneath you.”

He narrows his eyes. “It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.”

“Alright. Suit yourself,” I say, rising to leave.

Uncle Carlos may have helped me after my parents died, but our relationship is far from close. We coexist—he minds his business, and I mind mine. Usually. But this time, something about Lola unsettles me.

As I head toward the exit, I collide with someone. It’s her. Lola. She stumbles, and I instinctively grab her arm to steady her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice soft as she regains her balance.

Her skin is warm, and soft against my palm, and I withdraw my hand as if burned.

“It’s fine,” I reply, my tone uncharacteristically gentle.

Without another word, I walk away, but her presence lingers in my mind.

In the car, I find myself replaying the encounter—the way her hair caught the light, the softness of her voice. I look down at my hand, recalling the brief contact, and my thoughts turn darker. What would it feel like to touch her again? To explore more?

I groan, shaking my head. This is what happens when you go six months without s*x. Work has consumed me, but this dry spell needs to end—tonight.

Pulling out my phone, I call Sasha, one of my regular hookups. She’s uncomplicated and knows the rules.

“My condo. Ten minutes,” I say before hanging up.

“Change of plans,” I tell my driver. “Take me to the condo.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sasha arrives, swaying her hips as she steps inside.

“You’re late,” I say, my voice gruff.

“I was busy,” she purrs, already heading for the bedroom.

By the time I join her, she’s naked, ready. I grab a condom, wasting no time as I roll it onto my already hard shaft. There’s no foreplay, no tenderness—just release. Her moans fill the room as I thrust into her, shedding the tension of the past months.

"Wow, you're in beast mode today," Sasha moans.

I ignore her as I continue thrusting like my whole existence depends on it. She screams as she reaches her c****x, and I follow after with a groan.

We go one more round before I collapse onto the bed beside her, sated.

"f**k, that was needed," I say to myself.

Sasha takes a few minutes to recuperate before getting dressed. She knows the drill. There’s no cuddling, no lingering. I grab my phone, transferring money to her account.

She gasps. “A hundred thousand? You’re too generous! That's why you're my favorite!”

“Shut the door on your way out,” I say, not even looking at her.

As sleep overtakes me, I find my thoughts drifting back to auburn hair and innocent brown eyes. Lola. My uncle’s collateral.