The Billionaire’s Unlicensed Love

Paris glittered that night.The Seine shimmered under streetlamps, laughter spilled from cafés, and music floated through the heart of the city. But inside her small student apartment, she felt nothing but loneliness. Three weeks into her Master’s program in Public Relations and Strategic Marketing, and homesickness was eating her alive. The assignments, the long lectures, the endless hours of pretending she was perfectly fine it was all too much. So tonight, Melanie told herself, she wouldn’t sit in her room staring at textbooks. Tonight, she would breathe…That was how she ended up at a snazzy bar tucked between two old Parisian buildings, its golden glow spilling onto the cobbled street. Inside, soft jazz played, the air smelled faintly of vanilla and wine, and the hum of conversation was low enough to soothe her. She slipped onto a barstool, ordered a cocktail, and took her first sip. By her third, her head buzzed pleasantly. Anyone else might have been staggering, but she had a strange gift: no matter how drunk she was, she carried herself with elegance. Only those who knew her well could tell when her laughter was just a little too loose, her eyes just a little too bright. Across the room, he noticed her.He had walked in earlier, exhausted from meetings that had stretched far too long. His father’s company was preparing for another massive deal, and as Head of Legal, it fell on him to seal every crack. He had flown in from London that morning and would fly out again the next, but tonight, for one hour, he wanted silence. He sat in the corner booth, a glass of scotch in his hand, jacket draped over the seat, tie loosened just enough to breathe. His sharp features looked even harsher in the low light, but his eyes dark and piercing were tired. That was when she saw him.Something about the way he sat there, brooding and composed, drew her in. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the loneliness, but her lips curved into a daring smile. She slid off her stool and walked toward him, heels clicking softly on the wooden floor. “Paris is far too pretty for you to drink alone,” she said lightly. He glanced up, surprised. The voice was soft, feminine, but confident. She was standing there with a cocktail glass in her hand, eyes bright, mischief dancing in them.He let out a short laugh. “And who says I’m drinking alone by choice?” She tilted her head, smirking. “Well, lucky for you, I’m here to fix that.” Amusement flickered across his face. He wasn’t the type to entertain strangers especially bold ones but something about her was… different. Maybe it was her boldness, or maybe it was the faint tremor in her smile that only someone observant would notice. She slid into the seat opposite him without asking. “What’s your name, Mr. Serious?” His brows lifted. “Mr. Serious?”“Well, look at you,” she teased, gesturing at his loosened tie, his guarded posture. “You’re sitting in Paris, the city of lights, with that frown like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders.” He almost smiled. Almost. “Maybe I am.” Her laugh was soft and intoxicating. “Then maybe I should carry it with you.” For the next half hour, they talked. Or rather, she talked and he listened, occasionally adding a dry remark that made her laugh harder. She asked him about his drink of choice, teased him about his stiff manner, even tried to guess what kind of man he was. He answered little, but he found himself oddly entertained. She was sharp, witty, and beautiful in a way that felt disarming.He didn’t realize she was drunk. Not until she leaned forward, chin resting on her hand, and said.. “You know… if you smiled more, you’d be dangerous.” That was when his phone buzzed.His gaze flicked to the screen, and instantly his jaw tightened. A call from London. Urgent. He exhaled slowly, then stood. “Leaving already?” she asked, her pout dramatic enough to make him chuckle. “Unfortunately,” he said, slipping his jacket back on. “Duty calls.” She leaned back with a sigh. “You’re running away from me, aren’t you?” He smirked, finally allowing the faintest hint of a smile. “No. Just postponing trouble.” Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with a smile. “You think I’m trouble?” She asked . “I know you are.” He replied, glanced at her one last time, his voice dropping low. “Maybe Paris will let us meet again.” And just like that, he walked away, his tall frame disappearing into the night, leaving her staring after him with a strange ache in her chest. She didn’t know his name. He didn’t ask for hers.To both of them, it was just a fleeting Paris moment. What they didn’t know was that fate had other plans..