Saved by a billionaire

Episode 2

The matte-black business card felt heavy in my hand, the gold Moroccan crest catching the dim light of the restaurant. I stared at the single word embossed on it—Karim—while my heart hammered against my ribs. How did he know my name? How did he know the exact, classified number of my family's debt?

Before I could even call out to him, he was gone, swallowed by the shadows outside the entrance.

"Amelia... did that Greek god just talk to us, or did I hallucinate?" Olivia mumbled, her eyes half-closed as she propped her chin on her hand.

"I need... more soju," Mark groaned, his forehead tracking dangerously close to his plate of fried chicken.

"No more alcohol for either of you," I said, my voice shaking slightly as I slipped the mysterious black card into my purse. "We are leaving. Right now."

I grabbed the bill from the center of the table and walked toward the front cashier, desperate to get my friends into a taxi and clear my head. The alcohol was starting to mix with a sudden spike of adrenaline, making my temples throb. I handed my credit card to the cashier, praying it wouldn't get declined due to my cousin’s Paris shopping spree.

Suddenly, a large, warm hand clamped gently over the receipt, stopping the transaction.

I gasped, looking up. It was him. Again. He hadn't left; he had been waiting by the exit. Up close, his scent—something rich like cedarwood, amber, and expensive leather—completely enveloped me.

"In Morocco, men don't let women pay for anything," Karim said, his deep baritone sending a ridiculous shiver down my spine.

I narrowed my eyes, my defensive pride flaring up despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Well, welcome to the twenty-first century, Karim. I am perfectly capable of paying for my own dinner. And my friends'." I tried to tug the receipt back, but his grip was firm, unyielding.

"I don't doubt your capability, Amelia," he countered, his brown eyes locking onto mine with a serious, stubborn intensity. "But while you are in my presence, you will never have to worry about a bill. Tonight is on me."

There was an underlying authority in his voice that made it clear arguing would be useless. The cashier was already staring at Karim as if he were royalty, blushing furiously. I let go of the paper, crossing my arms defensively.

"Fine," I huffed, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and overwhelming heat. "But don't expect me to invite you anywhere ever again."

A brilliant, beautiful smile broke across his sharp features, melting some of the icy tension. "But I will invite you. As many times as you wish. It would be my absolute pleasure."

Before I could process the dangerous charm of his words, he turned to look at Mark and Olivia, who were currently staggering toward the door, leaning on each other like two zombies. Mark was giggling at a blank phone screen, and Olivia looked ready to sleep on the floor.

"Are you planning on driving them home in that condition?" Karim asked, turning back to me, his gaze scanning my face.

"Of course not. I'm calling a private driver," I replied, pulling out my phone. "I’m drunk, but I'm not irresponsible."

"Come with me," Karim offered casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "My driver is already waiting outside. I will ensure all three of you get home safely."

I opened my mouth to refuse. My mind screamed that getting into a car with a wealthy, mysterious stranger who knew too much about my life was a terrible idea. But I looked at Mark, who was about to trip over a plant pot, and then at Olivia, who was practically snoring on her feet. I was too exhausted, too stressed, and too overwhelmed to fight him.

"Fine," I whispered. "Thank you."

Outside, a sleek, armored black Maybach was idling by the curb. A driver in a sharp suit immediately stepped out, opening the doors with a respectful bow. Karim efficiently guided Mark into the front passenger seat—where my friend promptly buckled up and fell asleep within ten seconds. He then helped Olivia into the spacious backseat, and I slid in right after her.

To my surprise, Karim didn't sit in the front. He climbed into the back, sliding into the leather seat right next to me.

The door clicked shut, sealing us in a quiet, ultra-luxurious bubble. The interior of the car was dark, lit only by the faint blue ambient lights along the dashboard. Olivia immediately slouched against the window, dead to the world.

That left only Karim and me. Awake. Very much awake.

The space between us felt charged with static electricity. Every time the car took a sharp turn, our shoulders brushed, and the heat radiating from his body felt like a physical brand on my skin. I kept my hands tightly clenched in my lap, staring straight ahead, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

"So," Karim broke the silence, his voice low, almost a whisper against the quiet hum of the engine. "I understand you are facing a five-hundred-million-dollar hurdle to save your family's legacy. Is the situation truly that dire?"

The question felt like a bucket of ice water waking me up from the romantic haze. I stiffened, turning my head to glare at him through the shadows. "You listened to our conversation far too closely. It’s rude to eavesdrop, Mr. Karim. And it’s none of your business."

"I apologize if I offended you," he said calmly, not bothered by my sharp tone at all. He leaned back against the leather seat, tilting his head to look at me. "I did not mean to intrude on your privacy. But in my line of work, when an opportunity presents itself, I take it."

"Just forget you heard anything," I muttered, looking away, staring out at the blurred neon lights of the city streets. "It’s a corporate problem. A mess that only I can solve."

"I can help you solve it," he stated smoothly. "If you are willing to listen to my proposal."

My heart did a dangerous flip. A proposal? From a man I met an hour ago? I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of the soju. "This is highly inappropriate. I am intoxicated, I am incredibly stressed, and I am not thinking straight. I do not do business in the back of a stranger's car at midnight. We can talk about this another day."

"Spoken like a true economics graduate," Karim murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You are absolutely right. Business should be conducted with a clear mind. Are you free for lunch tomorrow? Let’s meet."

He was so casual, so informal, speaking to me as if we were old friends—or something much more intimate. The sheer confidence dripping from him was intoxicating.

"I need to check my agenda first," I lied, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

"Let’s bypass the agenda," Karim said. Before I could protest, he gently reached over and slid my phone right out of my hand. His long, elegant fingers brushed against my palm, and a jolt of pure electricity shot straight up my arm, paralyzing my voice.

He tapped on my screen, typed in a sequence of numbers, and saved his contact. A second later, his own phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He had dialed himself to save my number too.

He handed the phone back to me, his dark eyes glittering with a dangerous, playful warmth. "There. Now you have my direct line, and I have yours. When you decide you want to save your father's company, you can call me anytime, day or night."

I snatched my phone back, my body frozen, completely speechless. No words came to my mind. My sharp wit had entirely deserted me.

By the time I recovered my composure, the Maybach was slowing down, pulling up to the familiar gates of my neighborhood. Mark and Olivia had already been dropped off at their respective apartments along the way. Now, the backseat felt even larger, and yet, Karim’s presence felt larger still.

The car stopped smoothly in front of my driveway.

"Here we are," Karim said, looking out the window at the grand, European-style estate. "Is this your home?"

"Yes," I breathed out, reaching for the door handle. "It’s my family’s house. We all live here together."

"Ah. So you are a family-oriented woman," he observed, his voice softening, a look of genuine appreciation crossing his features.

"Of course I am," I said, a proud smile touching my lips. "They take good care of me. Honestly, I'm quite spoiled by my parents."

"As you should be," Karim replied softly. He leaned in just a fraction closer, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes. "I will be waiting for your call, Amelia. Do not make me wait too long. And please... do not forget me."

"I'll... I'll think about your proposal and let you know," I stammered, cursing myself for stuttering. "Thank you for the ride. And for the night."

"It was entirely my pleasure. Have a good night, Amelia."

"Bye," I whispered.

"Goodnight."

I pushed the door open and practically stumbled out into the cool night air. The heavy door of the Maybach clicked shut behind me, and I watched the taillights of the luxury vehicle disappear down the street.

He is too perfect to be true, I thought, my hands trembling as I unlocked the front door. What is happening to me? Why can I barely walk straight?

I forced myself to stop overanalyzing him. I had known this man for a grand total of two hours, yet my entire body was shaking, every nerve ending screaming with a desperate, terrifying desire to be close to him again.

I quietly slipped inside the dark house, whispering a quick goodnight to my parents who were reading in the study, and ran straight to my bedroom. I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the dial all the way to cold. The icy water shocked my system, washing away the scent of amber and cedarwood, but it couldn't wash away the memory of his touch.

That night, sleep came easily, but rest did not.

My dreams were entirely consumed by Mr. Karim—the enigmatic Moroccan billionaire who held the keys to my ruin or my salvation. Every time I woke up gasping in the dark, his intense brown eyes were all I could see.

When the sun finally rose, casting golden light across my bedroom, I forced myself out of bed with a newfound determination. I couldn't afford to think about a relationship right now. Romance was a luxury I didn't have. First, I had to save my family's company from bankruptcy. First, I had to deal with the sharks in my own bloodline.

I threw on a sharp corporate suit, grabbed my briefcase, and resolved to make this the busiest, most distraction-free day of my life.

But as I reached for my car keys, my eyes fell on my phone resting on the nightstand. The screen blinked, and a text message from an unknown number popped up on the display:

“I hope you slept well, Amelia. I have already booked our table for 1:00 PM. Don't be late.”