Claimed by the billionaire

THE STRANGER ACROSS THE ROOM Blair’s POV Rejection stung more when it became a pattern. Blair Sinclair pressed her back against the elevator wall, willing herself not to cry as the floor numbers blinked down toward the lobby. Her third interview this month, shot to hell before she’d even finished her opening pitch. The manager hadn’t even tried to hide his disinterest. His gaze had lingered on her legs longer than it had her résumé. And by the end of the meeting, he’d said the company was “looking for someone with a bit more polish.” Whatever that meant. The doors opened with a soft ding, and Blair stepped out onto the marble floor of the building, her heels tapping quietly as she made her way outside. The New York air was crisp, the sky an overcast gray that matched her mood. She clutched her coat tighter around herself and pulled out her phone. Lucy. Her fingers moved fast. Interview number three was a bust. I hate it here. The response came almost immediately. Get your ass over here. I have wine, leftover cheesecake, and slander to offer. Blair didn’t hesitate. “Okay, say it again but louder,” Lucy demanded, handing her a forkful of cheesecake as they lounged on the couch in her cozy one-bedroom apartment. “That man asked if you had any ‘office-appropriate skirts’? Is he trying to get sued?” Blair groaned and let her head fall back against the couch. “I swear to God, Lu, it’s like the universe is laughing at me.” Lucy, ever the fierce best friend and part-time chaos enabler, narrowed her eyes. “You’re too smart and too qualified for these assholes. And if the universe is laughing, we’re gonna flip it off in heels and red lipstick.” Despite herself, Blair chuckled. But the truth settled heavy in her chest. She’d graduated with honors, interned at big firms, and paid her dues. And yet here she was, jobless, broke, and slowly unraveling. Lucy tilted her head, studying her. “You need a break.” “I need a job,” Blair muttered. “You need to get out of your head,” Lucy corrected. She jumped up and grabbed her phone. “We’re going out.” Blair blinked. “What?” “Even though it's a Thursday night, You’ve had a week from hell. So you’re gonna put on something hot, we’ll go to that new bar downtown Mason’s, right?, and you’re gonna drink, dance, and remember you’re a badass.” Blair hesitated. “I don’t know…” Lucy gave her a look. “You once made a frat boy cry in debate class. You can handle a few cocktails and bad lighting.” The moment they stepped into Mason’s Lounge, Blair felt the difference. It wasn’t loud or chaotic like most clubs. It was moody and expensive-looking, with velvet seating, golden lights, and soft bass thumping beneath the buzz of laughter and clinking glasses. Lucy led them straight to the bar. “Two whiskey sours,” she told the bartender before turning to Blair with a wicked grin. “Tonight, you are not Blair Sinclair, Interview Flop. You’re Blair Sinclair, Future CEO, here to collect your admirers.” The first drink went down too easily. The second hit harder. By the third, Blair’s limbs were warm, her lips loose with laughter, and the music pulsed like a second heartbeat in her chest. “I love this song!” she said, setting her glass down and grabbing Lucy’s hand. “Come dance with me.” But Lucy waved her off. “Go on, future CEO. I’ll watch our stuff.” Blair spun into the crowd, her hair whipping as she laughed. The beat surged around her, and for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t thinking about rejection or rent or the creeping fear that maybe she wasn’t enough. She was just…free. Eyes turned toward her as she danced, her hips swaying to the rhythm, her emerald green dress catching the light with every movement. She didn’t care. Let them look. She felt powerful. And then…she felt it. Someone was watching her. Not in the usual way, this gaze was heavier. Intense. It crawled over her skin, slow and deliberate. Her eyes swept across the room, and landed on him. He sat in a corner booth, alone, one arm draped casually over the back of the seat. Dressed in a dark shirt that matched his eyes and a jawline carved in silence, he looked like he belonged in a different world. His gaze was fixed on her, unmoving. The air shifted. Blair’s breath hitched. She turned away quickly, heart thudding. But a minute later, she glanced back. He was still watching. Still…her. She spun again, trying to shake it off. But the sensation didn’t fade. If anything, it thickened. And when the song changed to something slower, more seductive, she caught movement from the corner of her eye. He was coming toward her. Panic or anticipation gripped her stomach. She looked up just as he stopped in front of her, not too close, not too far. The crowd moved around them like they weren’t even there. He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. “Dance with me,” he said, voice low and deep, almost swallowed by the music. Blair opened her mouth. But she never got the chance to reply. He reached out slowly, like giving her time to refuse and brushed his fingers lightly against hers. She didn’t pull away.