Beneath The Billionaire

Chapter4

Maya watched as Sebastian cut through the crowd, his presence impossible to ignore. He was magnetic in a way that irritated her—a man who commanded attention without even trying. The protesters seemed to part instinctively as he approached, their shouts fading into murmurs.

“Enjoying the show?” he said when he reached her, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Maya arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you were in the business of charity speeches, Blake. What’s next? Handing out cupcakes?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You really think this is a game, don’t you?”

“I think you’re very good at playing the part,” she shot back. “But let’s not pretend this is about anything other than saving face.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his composure wavering for just a fraction of a second. That was the thing about Maya Taylor—she had an uncanny ability to cut through the armor he wore like a second skin. And worse, she seemed to enjoy it.

“This project is bigger than your headlines,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s about creating something that lasts—something meaningful.”

Maya tilted her head, her short curls catching the late afternoon sun. “Meaningful? For the people who can actually afford to live there? Or for your shareholders?”

He stepped closer, closing the already narrow distance between them. The crowd and the cameras seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them locked in a silent battle of wills.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you?” His voice was quiet but laced with challenge.

“I don’t have to figure you out,” Maya said evenly. “You show the world exactly who you are every day. A man who builds walls—literal and figurative—and doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

Her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. But Sebastian wasn’t about to let her see it.

“You’re quick to judge for someone who’s never built anything of her own,” he said, his tone sharp as a blade.

Maya flinched—just barely—but it was enough for Sebastian to notice.

“I’ve built plenty,” she said, her voice steadier than he expected. “Maybe not skyscrapers, but that doesn’t make my work any less important.”

For a moment, something flickered in Sebastian’s gaze. Curiosity, maybe. Or respect. It was gone as quickly as it came.

“Then I suggest you keep writing, Ms. Taylor,” he said, stepping back. “I’ll keep building. And we’ll see which one stands the test of time.”

Maya opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the crowd surged, and a loud voice boomed through a megaphone, pulling their attention back to the protest.

The tension in the air thickened as the protesters grew louder. The barricades were straining under the weight of the crowd, and Sebastian’s security team moved in, forming a protective circle around him.

Maya stood her ground, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands.

“Mr Blake, we need to get you out of here,” one of his bodyguards said urgently.

Sebastian barely acknowledged him. His eyes were still locked on Maya.

“Stay out of my way,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“I could say the same to you,” she shot back.

Before either of them could say more, a commotion erupted at the far end of the barricades. A group of protesters had broken through, and the crowd was pushing forward, their chants turning into shouts.

“Move!” the bodyguard barked, grabbing Sebastian by the arm.

Sebastian allowed himself to be pulled back toward the car, his expression unreadable. But as he glanced over his shoulder one last time, his gaze found Maya in the chaos.

She wasn’t retreating. If anything, she was moving closer, her pen flying across the page as she captured every moment.

Something about her tenacity stirred an unfamiliar feeling in him—a mix of frustration, admiration, and something he wasn’t ready to name.

***Sebastian stormed into his office, the heavy doors shutting behind him with a muted thud. His assistant tried to catch his attention, murmuring something about reporters camped outside and a flurry of investor calls, but he waved her off without a word.

The office was his sanctuary, a carefully designed space of muted grays and sleek lines that reflected control—his control. But as he sank into the leather chair behind his desk, the chaos he had left at the protest felt closer than ever.

He pressed a button on the remote, dimming the lights, but the glow of his computer screen was unrelenting. The headline stared back at him like a taunt:

“The Billionaire Bulldozer”

By Maya Taylor, for The Beacon

Sebastian leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he began to read. The words were sharp, unapologetic, and damning. Maya hadn’t held back—not even a little.

The article painted him as a villain, a destroyer of communities, a man untouched by the struggles of the people whose lives his projects affected. She had skewered him with precision, her words leaving no room for nuance or defense.

But what made his blood boil wasn’t just the content—it was the speed. She’d written and published this hit piece within minutes of the protest. Maya hadn’t wasted a second, using the momentum of the day to land her blow while the world was still watching.

And they were watching.

The fallout was immediate. His phone had been vibrating non-stop with messages from his PR team, his legal department, and even a few investors. Social media was ablaze with hashtags condemning Blake Industries, and several news outlets had already picked up Maya’s article, amplifying the damage.

Sebastian closed the browser with a sharp click and leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease.

“She’s relentless,” he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair.

Relentless and dangerous. Maya wasn’t just another reporter looking for a headline—she was out for blood. His blood. And the worst part was, she was good at it. Too good.

He stared at the darkened window, his reflection blending with the city lights beyond. The woman had made it personal. She didn’t just criticize the project—she’d gone after him, peeling back the layers of his public image and exposing the flaws he worked so hard to conceal.

Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair. He didn’t get where he was by letting people like Maya Taylor tear him apart.

“Claire,” he barked, grabbing his phone and dialing his assistant’s number.

“Yes, Mr. Blake?” Her voice was brisk, professional, and tinged with apprehension.

“I want a full background check on Maya Taylor. Everything—where she grew up, who she knows, what skeletons she’s got in her closet.”

“Sir, she’s a journalist—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, his voice like steel. “She made this personal. I want to know who I’m dealing with.”

Claire hesitated for a fraction of a second before responding. “Understood.”

Sebastian ended the call and tossed the phone onto his desk.

Maya had chosen to come after him, and he wasn’t about to sit back and let her destroy everything he’d built. If she wanted a war, he’d give her one—but on his terms.

For a moment, he allowed himself to think back to the way she had looked at the protest—fierce, determined, and completely unfazed by him.

A grudging part of him respected her. Hell, she was the first person in years to challenge him in a way that felt real. But respect didn’t mean mercy, and Sebastian Blake didn’t lose.

He picked up his glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirled it slowly.

“You wanted my attention, Maya,” he murmured to himself. “Now you’ve got it.”