The Billionaire's Cure

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Derrick's POV

She said yes.

I've been staring at the contract for three hours, reading her signature over and over.

She signed it at the bar last night, right after I said the words that have been echoing in my head since the moment I touched her.

I need you to touch me.

Now she's moving in today, Robin arranged everything.

The guest suite is ready, her room is stocked with everything she could possibly need. Clothes. Toiletries. Books. Snacks.

I had Robin find out everything about her, her favorite foods, her favorite authors, her favorite scent.

Five million dollars.

I'm a businessman, I don't make bad investments.

Five million dollars for a woman I barely know. Five million dollars for a cure that might not work. Five million dollars for hope.

What if it doesn't work?

The thought haunts me as I pace my office.

What if she touches me and I still feel like I'm dying?

What if the magic from the bar was a fluke?

What if I waste five million dollars on nothing?

I hate losses but I hate being broken more.

The doorbell rings.

Robin's voice filters through the intercom.

"She's here, sir."

"Let her in."

I leave my office and walk to the living room with my hands in my pockets.

The elevator doors slide open and there she is.

Ayla.

She's wearing jeans and a simple white t-shirt, her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail.

A small suitcase is clutched in her hand, she's looking around the penthouse with wide eyes, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows, the minimalist furniture, the view of the city sprawling beneath us.

She looks so small. So perfect.

"Welcome,"

I say. My voice is rougher than I intended.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi."

I cross the room, stop a few feet away.

Close enough to see the pulse beating in her throat, close enough to smell her, something like lavender. Something sweet.

"Your room is down the hall," I say.

"I hope it's acceptable. If you need anything…"

"I'm sure it's fine."

I gesture down the hall.

"I'll show you."

I lead her to the guest suite and open the door.

She gasps.

The room is huge, a king bed with white silk sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows.

A private bathroom with a soaking tub, her favorite books on the nightstand, her favorite snacks on the dresser.

"Derrick," she breathes.

"This is…"

"Too much?"

She turns to me. "How did you know?"

I shrug. "I had you investigated."

She stares at me, then she laughs.

A real laugh, bright and warm.

"Derrick."

"Yes?"

"When do we start?"

I want to say now, I want to cross the room and take her hand and feel her warmth against my skin.

I want to see if the magic from the bar was real.

But I'm terrified.

"Tomorrow," I say.

"I have meetings today. Robin will give you a tour of the building if you'd like, there's a gym, a pool, a library. You have full access to everything."

She nods. "Okay."

I turn to leave.

"Derrick."

I stop.

She moves closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes.

"Are you scared?" she asks.

I swallow. "Terrified."

She smiles. "So am I."

I want to touch her, I want to reach out and cup her face and feel her warmth against my palm.

But my hands won't move.

Five million dollars.

What if it doesn't work?

"Take all the time you need," she says softly.

"I'll be here."

I walk away.

I can't focus on my meetings.

I sit in my office, staring at the security monitors. Watching her move through the penthouse.

She's in the library now, running her fingers over the spines of books.

She's in the kitchen, opening cabinets, smiling at the expensive appliances.

She looks happy.

At 6 PM, I finally escape my office.

I find her in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book.

She looks up as I enter and smiles.

"Done?"

"I need to touch you," I say.

Her eyes widen. "Derrick…"

"I can't wait until tomorrow." My voice is raw.

She nods.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"Just stand there, don't move. Don't reach for me."

She stays still with her hands at her sides.

Her eyes fixed on mine.

I step closer.

One step, two.

Close enough to feel the heat that radiated from her body.

Then I reach out.

My hand hovers near her face, I can see the pulse beating in her throat, her lips part.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," I whisper.

"I won't."

I cup her face, her skin is warm. Soft, alive.

I don't flinch.

I don't feel Elena, I don't feel the blood. I don't feel the guilt.

I feel her.

"Ayla," I breathe.

"Derrick."

"I can…" I stop. Swallow.

"I can touch you. I'm touching you."

A tear slips down her cheek. "Yes. You are."

I stroke her cheek with my thumb, she leans into my touch and closes her eyes.

I want to kiss her, I want to hold her.

She's the only woman I can touch.

I want to pull her against me and never let go.

But I cannot.

For now, this is enough.

But later that night, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.

I touched her, I really touched her.

And I did not break.

I felt alive.

But what if it's a fluke?

What if it only works in certain circumstances?

What if I wake up tomorrow and I can't touch her again?

What if I'm playing a loosing investment on a miracle that was only meant to last one night?

I close my eyes and pray to a God I stopped believing in years ago.

Please, let it work.

Please let her be the cure.

Because if she's not…

I don't know if I can survive losing hope again.