The billionaire's accidental obsession

“Save me!” a shrill voice pierced the cool night air the moment Michael Storme stepped out of the club. He had barely registered where the voice came from when a small frail body crashed into him as he tumbled two steps back. His eyes fluttered wide in shock as he held onto the soft body of the mystery woman in his arms. There was a sudden gust of wind that blew her hair in all directions as her lips quivered. His men immediately sprinted into action, guns in each pocket, coming towards them, but he held up his arm signaling them to halt as he sensed the looming vulnerability vibrating from her weak, shaky body as she clanged onto his shirt. He could feel her rapid heartbeat through her thin nightgown. Curiosity struck him as his brows fell downwards. That was when he held her closer, and he felt the dampness of a thick liquid that was seeping through her blouse. She was bleeding, the smell of iron was suddenly evident. Her eyes met his and the world stopped as though those brown eyes of hers commanded it to. Like as though time had no choice than to obey. Something in her eyes pierced his soul as they begged for mercy. “Help me,” she whispered, slipping down slowly, but he held onto her like his life depended on it. “Save me please,” she begged before her eyes began to close, and it was only then that he began to think straight. Swooping her up, he rushed to the car and his men followed. Adrenaline pumping through his veins like it never did before. “Get us to a hospital now!”