CLAIMED BY THE TYCOON

His back was to me. As usual. Aiden’s arm dangled off the bed, phone still in his hand like he’d fallen asleep mid-scroll. Probably checking his Snap streaks or messaging someone he said was “just a friend.” I blinked at the ceiling for a second. My mouth felt dry, my legs sore, and the cold half of the bed made it really damn clear he wasn’t the cuddling type. I sat up, quietly pulling the sheet over my chest even though he’d seen everything already. I don’t know why I still did that. Habit, maybe. Or shame. The clock read 6:47 AM. Shit. I was supposed to be at the hotel in two hours — all dolled up in a black dress I borrowed from Lara and ready to work the biggest charity event our firm had ever touched. Not show up late with s*x hair and no plan. I got up and tiptoed toward my clothes on the floor, slipping my bra back on while trying not to wake him. “Where you going?” his voice mumbled behind me. Groggy. Not sweet. “Work,” I said, trying to sound normal. He grunted and rolled over, finally facing me. Hair messy. Eyelashes too long for someone so irritating. “Come back for a sec.” I hesitated. That voice — low, lazy, and smooth — it used to undo me. Now it just made my chest feel… tight. “I’m gonna be late,” I said, grabbing my shirt. He reached for my wrist and tugged me back toward the bed, smirking like he owned the morning. “You already are.” “Aiden…” I started, trying not to sigh. He leaned up and kissed my neck — it didn’t feel like love. It felt like habit. “You’ll look hot in that dress,” he murmured, lips brushing my jaw. “Bet all the old creeps at the party will be staring.” I pulled away. “Yeah, well… they won’t be the only creeps.” His eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing.” I shrugged and went for my bag. “Forget it.” He watched me get dressed, didn’t say anything else. No good luck. No “you’ll do great.” Just scrolled through his phone again like I didn’t exist anymore. As I headed for the door, I paused. “Text me later?” I asked, quieter than I meant to. “Yeah. Sure.” He didn’t look up. I left anyway. --- Later that Morning The hotel lobby sparkled in that rich-people way — glass, gold trim, everything smelling like money and fake orchids. I checked in with the event coordinator, tied my hair into a low bun, and tried not to think about the morning. Or the fact that Aiden still hadn’t texted me. Lara was already there, running around in heels too high for comfort and a smile too bright to be real. “Amira!” she hissed when she saw me. “You’re late.” “Only by five minutes.” “In rich-people minutes, that’s like half an hour.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed my tablet from the check-in table. Names. Times. Assignments. I focused on the screen, trying to drown out everything else — especially the Aiden-shaped pit in my stomach. And then I saw it. Mikhail Devereux. No photo. No details. Just a name. A heavy one. Lara peeked over my shoulder and whistled. “That one? Big deal. Billionaire. Kinda scary.” “I’ve never heard of him.” She smirked. “That’s because he doesn’t want to be heard of.” I didn’t know then that name would change everything. Didn’t know those eyes — cold and steady and impossible — would find me hours later. Didn’t know how fast a life could fall apart from one glance. Right then, I was just a girl in borrowed heels, trying to get through her first real event. And he was just a name on a list.