Nadia and the Heartless Billionaire

Despite being in the family for three generations, Karen Textiles was on the verge of going out of business due to a series of disastrous agreements and mounting debt. Her last chance to locate a miracle or an investor was tonight's charity gala.The delicate strings of a live quartet and the faint buzz of conversations blended with the gentle clink of champagne glasses as they reverberated around the marble hall. Under the shimmering lights of the Hawthorne Grand Hotel, the city's elite congregated, their velvet gowns and polished shoes reflected golden light from crystal chandeliers. While she sipped sparkling water from a big flute, Nadia Karen straightened invisible wrinkles by tugging at the edge of her navy-blue satin dress. She never felt more isolated. The bag that she was carrying was almost falling apart at the edges, the heels were too tight, and the gown had been lent from her cousin. Despite this, she kept her shoulders high, her red lips coated with Dior lipstick that her deceased mother gave her years ago, and her brown locks tossed to one side. She wasn't here for champagne or glitz. Her sole purpose for being here was to preserve her father's business. “Try to smile,” Nadia’s father had said before she left. “You never know who you’ll meet.” So she grinned. Even when the women in the area muttered, arched their brows at her, and even when men walked by her as if she didn't exist. She felt it. Eyes. Watching her. Nadia looked over and caught a glimpse of him. Wearing a well-tailored black suit, a white pocket square and cufflinks that likely cost more than her flat, he stood close to the stairway. His jawline was as sharp as steel, and his hair was slicked back with seamless accuracy. Her gaze, however, was in his calm, grey, unreadable eyes. He didn't smile. He didn't look away. Nadia’s heart skipped as she blinked. As she returned back to her drink. “Intimidating, isn’t he?” She was startled by a voice to her left. A dish of hors d'oeuvres was offered by a woman with brilliant eyes and a kind smile. "Who?" Pretending not to see him, Nadia asked. The woman gave the man a subtle nod. Salvatore, Stefan. Fear the billionaire that everyone adores. owns half of the city. Let's just say he doesn't play fair, but nobody truly understands how he acquired his riches. Nadia's eyes returned to him, but he had vanished. Fifteen minutes later, she discovered him standing outside the balcony by himself, gazing out at the city lights as if he owned them. Perhaps he did. She felt a tug of curiosity. Her shoes tapped quietly on the floor as she walked slightly closer. As she stepped towards him, bending just a little over the railing, the cold air brushed against her skin. She remarked, "You seem to be planning how to buy the moon." He swivelled his head, a little startled. "What if I was?" That caused a small smile to appear on his face. "You're not from this area." "This is where I live." "But you're not one of them," he remarked, turning to face the room filled with designer labels and diamonds. Nadia gave a shrug. "The free champagne is my only reason for being here." He got a little closer and remarked, "Then you're not very good at lying." "What's your name?" “Nadia” He extended his hand. Stefan." After a few seconds of doubt, she put her palm in his. He had a tight, warm grip. As though an unseen force moved between them, she sensed the energy. She took a while to let go. She questioned, "Are you always this intense with strangers?" "Only when they pretend not to look at me after staring at me for ten minutes." Her gaze grew wide and fixed. Then she laughed—a genuine, quiet laugh that briefly caused his face to change. "All right, Nadia," he said. "What are you looking for?" She blinked. "Pardon me?" "You're circling the room like you have something to win", dressed to impress. What is it? Cash? Notoriety? A husband? She scowled. Whoa. Your ability to captivate a girl is quite impressive. His eyes remained fixed. "I just have a talent for seeing right through people." "Well, perhaps you ought to look at them instead of looking through them." He was taken aback. He opened his mouth, then curved it. "Interesting." Warmth rushed onto her cheeks as she prepared to leave, but his voice stopped her. "You failed to respond to the question." Nadia pivoted. "My goal is to keep my father's business afloat". Not that you should care about it. Stefan's head c****d. "And what is this company's name?" "Karen Textiles." Something changed in his eyes, but his face remained the same. Making calculations. Wondering. She was unaware of it. Not quite yet. After a beat, he said, "I know the name." A little, family-run business had a plant on Eighth once. She stated, "We still do." "Hardly." "Then perhaps I am your company." She arched an eyebrow. "You're willing to assist?" "I'm willing to speak". Dinner. Tomorrow evening. Nadia fixed her gaze on him. "Why?" He leaned a little closer. "Because I find you fascinating." I also don't do intrigue too often. It was careless. Even dangerous. However, there was something about him that was unavoidable—his assurance, his quietness, the subtle attraction between them. "Dinner," she said again. Indeed. And no talk of business. Only you, as well as myself. She paused. She then gave a nod. And there, under the golden radiance of the city skyline, Nadia Karen stepped into a story that would crush her heart, reshape her, and damage her in ways she never could have predicted.