The Tycoon Forbidden Trespasser

Chapter 3

~AMIRA~

I woke up expecting to see the cracked ceiling of my old bedroom. Instead, I opened my eyes to a wall of glass and a forest bathed in morning light. For a second, I panicked. My heart did that little jump it does when you miss a step on the stairs.

‘Where am I?’

Then the memory hit me. New York. The robbery. Audrey. The fortress.

I rolled over in the massive bed, burying my face in a pillow that felt like it was stuffed with clouds. I let out a long groan. I didn't want to get up. I wanted to stay in this bed forever. If I stayed here, I didn't have to face the fact that I had zero dollars to my name and no way to get home.

But my stomach had other plans. It was demanding food. Again.

I dragged myself out of bed. My phone was on the nightstand…. 10%. I needed a charger. I rummaged through my suitcase, found my cord, and plugged it into the wall.

I checked my messages. Nothing from the modeling agency (obviously). Nothing from the police about my wallet (obviously). Just one text from my mom asking if I had landed safely.

I typed back: ‘Landed safe! The city is beautiful. Love you.’

I hated lying to her. But if I told her I was broke and squatting in a billionaire’s empty mansion, she would have a heart attack.

I threw on a pair of denim shorts and a crop top. I didn't bother with a bra. Who was I trying to impress? The ghosts?

I went downstairs. The house was even brighter in the daylight. It was stunning, honestly. The sun bounced off the black marble floors, making the whole place look sharp and expensive. But it was still so quiet. That dead, heavy silence that made me feel like I was holding my breath.

I went to the kitchen and stared down the espresso machine. It looked like a spaceship. It had more buttons than my phone.

"Okay," I muttered, poking at a silver button. "Don't blow up."

It whirred to life, grinding beans with a loud crunch that made me jump. A minute later, I had a cup of the blackest, strongest coffee I had ever smelled.

I took a sip and almost moaned. It was liquid gold.

Cup in hand, I wandered over to the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony. I unlocked them and slid one open. The heat hit me instantly. It was late August in New York, and the air was stuffy and sticky.

But the pool…The pool looked incredible.

The water was sparkling under the sun, blue and clear. It was calling my name.

‘Don't cause trouble,’ I reminded myself.

But was swimming causing trouble? The water was already there. It wasn't like I was using up a limited supply. And I needed to wash the stress off me. I needed to feel weightless.

I finished my coffee in two gulps and ran back upstairs.

I dug through my suitcase until I found it. My favorite bikini. It was a bright neon orange string two-piece. It looked amazing against my skin. It was tiny…barely covered anything....but I loved it. It made me feel confident. And right now, I needed all the confidence I could get.

I stripped down and tied the strings. I looked in the full-length mirror.

My hair was a wild halo of dark curls around my face. My skin was glowing. My curves looked good.

"You got this, Amira," I told my reflection. "You’re going to figure this out. Just… relax first." I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and headed back down.

I stepped out onto the hot stone of the balcony. The cicadas were buzzing in the trees….a loud, rhythmic screeching sound that filled the air.

I dropped my towel on a lounge chair and walked to the edge of the pool. I dipped a toe in. Perfect. Cool, but not freezing.

I didn't dive. I slipped in, letting the water slide up my legs, over my stomach, and finally over my shoulders. I pushed off the wall and swam.

It was heaven.

I did lap after lap. I swam until my lungs burned and my muscles felt loose. I swam until I forgot about the empty bank account and the fear in my gut. I floated on my back for a while, staring up at the blue sky. It was so peaceful. I felt like the only person in the world.

Then, I heard it. The sound of tires crunching on gravel.

My eyes snapped open. I treaded water, my heart slamming against my ribs. Audrey said the gardener came on Thursdays. Today was Wednesday.

The sound got louder. It wasn't a small car. It sounded heavy. A powerful engine purring closer and closer.

I spun around in the water, looking toward the side of the house where the driveway was. I couldn't see the front gate from here, but I could hear the heavy clank of the iron gates opening.

Someone was here. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded my veins.

‘s**t. Shit.’

Was it the police? Did the neighbors see lights on and call the cops? Was it Audrey coming back early? I swam to the edge of the pool, grabbing the stone coping. I needed to get out. I needed to grab my towel and run inside and hide.

But before I could pull myself up, I heard a car door slam.

It was loud. Angry.Then, heavy footsteps. Boots hitting the pavement.

I froze. I was half in, half out of the water. If I ran now, I would be running naked across the balcony in full view of whoever was walking around the side of the house.

I sank back into the water, dipping down until only my head was above the surface. Maybe they wouldn't see me. Maybe they would just drop off a package and leave.

I held my breath, listening.

The footsteps stopped. Then, the sliding glass door to the living room….the one I had left open….slid further open with a rough shove.

"What the hell?" a deep, rough voice growled from inside the house.

It wasn't a delivery guy. And it definitely wasn't Audrey. The voice was low, dangerous, and distinctly male. I watched, paralyzed, as a figure stepped out of the shadows of the living room and onto the balcony.

My breath hitched in my throat.

He was huge.

That was the first thing I noticed. He was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders that strained against a black button-down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing thick forearms covered in dark ink.

He stood there, scanning the terrace with a predatory stillness. He looked angry. No, not angry. He looked deadly.

He had short, dark hair and a jawline that looked like it was cut from granite. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days, but that only made him look more terrifying.

He wasn't looking at the pool. He was looking at the towel I had dropped on the lounge chair. He walked over to it, his movements sharp and controlled. He picked up my towel with two fingers, like it was contaminated evidence.

He stared at the bright white towel against his dark clothes. Then, he slowly turned his head.

His eyes found the pool.

And then, they found me. I wanted to dive. I wanted to disappear. But I couldn't move. His eyes were green. Even from this distance, I could see them. piercing, intelligent, and cold.

He didn't look surprised. He looked…figured.

He dropped the towel on the ground and started walking toward the edge of the water. He didn't rush. He walked like he owned every inch of the concrete, the water, and the air I was breathing.

He stopped right at the edge, towering over me. He blocked out the sun, casting a long, dark shadow over the water.

He looked down at me, his face unreadable. He scanned me….from my wet hair, to my bare shoulders, to where my body disappeared into the blue water.

My heart was beating so hard I thought he could see it.

"I haven't seen your face around here, love," he said. His voice was soft and nice, but also sharp and dangerous. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my pool?"