The Billionaire's Poor Lover

Are you harassing my girlfriend ?

~Arabella~

I instantly turned around, startled by the sharp voice behind me. The tone alone told me I was in deep, boiling trouble I definitely never signed up for.

But when my eyes landed on the owner of that voice, every thought in my head froze.

Standing in front of me was the most breathtaking man I had ever seen in my entire life.

What on earth was someone like him doing in this part of town? He looked completely out of place, well-built, tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that screamed wealth. His skin was clear and smooth, almost like he lived inside a skincare commercial.

If I hadn’t just seen him here next to these dusty streets and broken shops I would’ve sworn he was a model. But obviously, no model would willingly step foot in this area.

He was speaking, I could see his lips moving, but not a single word registered. His furious expression, the sharpness in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched that I saw very clearly.

Then his voice rose louder, snapping my attention back to reality.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” he demanded, voice low and cold, like ice wrapped in steel.

Instead of panicking like any normal person, I found myself staring at him studying him, even admiring him. Because, honestly, who wouldn’t get distracted by such a dangerously beautiful man, even if he looked like he wanted to kill them?

“Am I talking to a dumb person?” he snapped again.

That shook me right out of my daze.

If I hadn’t been completely terrified, I swear I would’ve said I saw a very quick smile flicker over his lips at my reaction. Or maybe I was imagining things. Probably.

“What the hell do you want? I already told you it’s not my problem that your car window bro”

Was I even hearing myself? I needed to shut up.

“How dare you?” he thundered, and before I could blink, his hand clamped around my wrist,a grip firm enough to make me hiss in pain.

“Let me go! You’re hurting me,” I protested, half-acting, half-telling the truth. But the man didn’t budge. Didn’t loosen his grip. Didn’t even move. He remained so focused like nothing of that kind had actually even happened.

“I know your type,” he growled. “And I’m not letting you walk away until you pay for the window you just shattered.”

My stomach dropped. Pay? With what? My nonexistent savings? I’d barely earned anything today. Even if I had, I doubted it would cover even the tire of that car.

“How much is it?” I asked, forcing myself to sound serious while digging through my pockets like an i***t.

To my annoyance, the handsome stranger let out a sudden laugh loud and sharp.

For what? I didn’t say anything funny. My life was falling apart and he was amused?

After checking, I found exactly what I feared, only a few coins. All that was supposed to buy my lunch.

“So,” he said, voice cooling again, “where is the rest? The money to fix my window?”

“Excuse me, I am still counting,” I snapped, though I had nothing to count. Whenever I’m in trouble, my boldness appears out of thin air like a useless superpower.

This time, however, it was not helping. This situation was way beyond my usual level of trouble.

“I’m here!” a familiar voice called out.

My shoulders sagged with relief. Ham. Perfect timing.

He jogged over, eyes widening as he took in the scene of me, the furious Greek-god-looking stranger, and the shattered car window.

“So,” the stranger said with that icy tone, “you called your boyfriend? What exactly do you think he can do? You’ll both be punished if you try anything stupid.”

Ham looked between us, confused and worried. He’d only been gone a few minutes, but apparently enough time for me to destroy a luxury vehicle.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ham demanded. “Are you harassing my girlfriend?”

The stranger barked out another laugh. What was with all this laughing?

“Harassing her? In your dreams. She’s not my type,” he said coldly.

Ouch. Those words stung deeper than they should have, but I swallowed the hurt. No one needed to know how easily words could bruise me.

“All I want,” he continued, “is for her to pay for what she broke. You have no idea how expensive that window is.”

Ham’s expression shifted. He finally understood what I had gotten myself into. And then, like always, he adapted.

“But what was your car doing here?” Ham shot back.

The stranger’s face twisted. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

My stomach grumbled loudly. Hunger plus stress,fantastic combination.

“Who else would I be asking?” Ham replied. “You’re the only one here with a car worth touching.”

That was what Ham did best whenever I was in trouble. Bold, confident, impossible-to-ignore talking. It has saved us countless times.

I prayed it would work again.

The stranger was thrown off by Ham’s attitude. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, his brows furrowed, his focus shifting from anger to confusion.

And somehow miraculously, the distraction was enough.

Without waiting for the stranger’s next explosion, Ham grabbed my wrist (gently, unlike the other guy) and pulled me away.

We walked fast, then faster, ignoring the furious voice behind us.

Only when we reached our usual lunch spot,our “safe zone”,did I finally breathe again.

But deep down, I knew this was not the end.