THE BILLIONAIRE'S 3-YEAR SECRET

I should have known the day would go wrong when I found myself arguing over a bra. “I can pay for it myself!” I yelled through gritted teeth, clutching the lace strap tight like it was evidence in a murder trial. The attendant forced a smile. “Miss, I've been trying to tell you..” She paused to raise her voice. “Mr. Kingsley is covering all purchases today.” “Do I look like I need his money?” Suddenly, loud synchronized footsteps cut through the air. Kingsley. The atmosphere shifted when his name echoed through the room. The whispering noises, the hushed acknowledgements and the low sounds of applause. He had arrived. I did not need to turn around to know it was him. The entire store had suddenly transformed into a worship hall. Damien Kingsley, Billionaire heir, Philanthropist, Public darling and of course, Fraud. The cheering got louder, I could no longer resist the temptation so I looked. And there he was, He stood tall, immaculate, dressed in effortless wealth. Dark suit, controlled posture, commanding presence and eyes that scanned the room like he owned not just the building, but the city beneath it and everyone in it. Bodyguards lurked around him like shadows. His assistant, Miles, clapped his hands lightly. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Kingsley will be settling all bills today. Please continue shopping.” They started cheering again and I nearly choked on my own saliva. Was this his new angle? To play savior of the masses while expanding the Kingsley Empire behind closed doors? Very pathetic. The attendant reached for the bra again, jolting me out of my thoughts and back to reality. “Like I was saying earlier Miss, you do not have to—” I yanked it back. “I said charge me!” I refused to be like everyone else who were practically selling their souls for a few pieces of clothing. “For the love of Christ, It has already been—” “I refuse!” We both grabbed the fabric at the same time. The lace stretched and just like that, it was like a tug of war was happening between me and the attendant. My knees were about to fail me when my heel caught on something. I slipped and completely lost balance. For a split second, I waited to feel the pain of colliding with the hard floor but surprisingly, my entire body fell into strong arms. My face was a few inches away from Damien Kingsley’s. Then we hit the floor. Hard. Gasps echoed around us. The bra? Dropped perfectly over his face. A very awkward and catastrophic silence engulfed the room. I watched him slowly remove it with an expressionless look etched on his face. Our eyes locked, he looked like he was trying to place me, categorize me. I hastily rose to my feet and I thought to apologize but then realization hit me that If he had been anyone else, I might have apologized. But he was not anyone else. He was the reason my father lost everything. He was the reason I became a private investigator, he was my war, my sworn enemy. I walked out, leaving everyone dumbfounded. By nightfall, I replaced the embarrassment from earlier with purpose. I had a mission to fulfill. I stood outside the Kingsley Royal Charity Gala, dressed in a red silk gown and a forged invitation clutched tight to my hands. The ballroom shone brightly with diamonds, laughter everywhere, influence dripping from every handshake. I stood at the back, unnoticed. Damien Kingsley stood at the center of it all, commanding attention without trying. He moved from one powerful figure to another. From senators to CEOs, then to foreign investors. I watched him the way a hunter watches prey. Tonight, I swore that I would find something. A weakness, a small c***k in his perfection, anything that could ruin his reputation for good. Hours passed but nothing happened. Just the golden boy expressing fake generosity to everyone. I was reaching for my third glass of champagne when someone approached me. “Dance with me.” I scoffed at the pot bellied, drunk, entitled man in front of me. “No.” All of a sudden, he snatched my wrist. “I insist.” His grip tightened causing me to snap my eyes wide open in shock as I struggled to pull free. “Let me go!” He turned a deaf ear to my refusal, instead he pulled me closer. My heart raced extremely fast when his hands moved from my wrist to my waist. I tried to scream but the music was way louder than my voice. “Release her.” A calm voice suddenly echoed from behind us. It was Damien. The drunk scoffed. “Mind your business.” “She is my business. Let go.” Damien’s voice was low but cold. The man let go when he noticed a group of bulky men dressed in black slowly approach us. I stepped back, my head lowered to avoid Damien's gaze. I did not want him to recognize me from the bra incident earlier today so I immediately scurried off without appreciating his kind gesture. I should have left then but I lingered a little longer. When I finally stepped outside for air, I found Damien alone near a sleek black convertible, his posture relaxed. He looked… human. Less polished and that meant more vulnerable. I approached cautiously. “Do you make a habit of rescuing strangers?” I asked. He turned slowly. “Only the ones who look like they don’t like being rescued.” The corner of his mouth curved and there was tension in the air. Something electric, it sent instant chills down my spine. “You were at the store today,” he suddenly said. My heart skipped. “Was I?” “With the bra.” He paused to gaze at me. “You did not clap.” “I am not a fan of public displays.” “Or me?” His left brow raised at me. “Especially you.” The honesty slipped out before I could stop it. Instead of offense, something like intrigue sparked in his gaze. “You don’t even know me.” “I know enough.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the faint tension in his jaw, as if I had said something that held more weight than it should have. “Do you want to get out of here?” His question was sudden, his tone dangerous yet I nodded in agreement while trying to convince myself I was doing that only for answers, not for the heat in his gaze. He led me to his suite, tension burned hotter than reason. One touch shook every wall I'd built, one heated kiss turned into another and before I could think twice about it, we were caught up in his sheets, breathless and reckless. By morning, he slept beside me, unaware. I slipped from the bed, dressed in silence, and rushed out of the room. Once I was in the hallways, I paused to glance up, straight into a security camera’s unblinking lens. I had walked in chasing answers and now I was leaving with consequences.