Claimed By the billionaire

chapter 6

After a long, hot shower that did little to soothe the memory of his touch, Rachel finally unzipped the garment bag. She pulled out the dress, and her breath hitched. It fit perfectly.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, bewildered. How on earth did Athan know her exact size? She didn't even know his—though, after last night, she knew he was big. Very big.

Rachel’s cheeks flushed a violent crimson, and she forcefully shook her head to push the shameless thoughts away. It was only normal to relive those intense moments after what had happened, she told herself defensively, but she couldn't afford to lose her head.

The dress was a rich, deep purple, and the design was undeniably sultry. Dominic had never allowed her to wear anything like this. He always preferred her in simple, conservative, almost plain dresses. Though she had secretly hated them, she had bared it without a complaint because, back then, Dominic was her entire world.

Now, looking at her reflection, she just felt like a massive fool. Those plain, modest dresses Dominic forced her into had made her a walking target. They had made it so incredibly easy for Natalie to bully her, framing Rachel as the drab, unrefined outsider who didn't belong in their glittering high-society world.

But this purple dress was different. It was made of premium silk that hugged every single curve of her body, and it featured a daringly high slit that cut up her thigh.

When Rachel finally descended the grand staircase, the soft click of her heels drew Athan’s attention.

He looked up from his phone, his piercing eyes locking onto her. He leaned back against the leather sofa, slowly tapping his long fingers against his knee, tracking her progress downward.

Feeling under a microscope, Rachel nervously tugged at the fabric of her dress. It wasn't too short, but with every step she took, the high slit parted, revealing the smooth expanse of her legs. Heat rose rapidly to her cheeks.

Athan watched her, a dark, satisfied glint in his eyes. He was secretly admiring his own immaculate taste—and thinking about how much he wanted to rip that very dress right off her body.

Reaching the bottom step, Rachel shifted uncomfortably. "Is... is there something on my face?"

Athan rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over her one last time. "The dress looks nice."

After a quiet breakfast, the two of them were seated in Athan’s sleek luxury car. Rachel had originally planned to call a cab, but she quickly realized she didn't even have her phone—it was still in the dirt outside that horrific warehouse. Left with no choice, she softly gave Athan the address to her apartment.

When the car finally pulled up to the curb, Athan looked out the window, a slight brow raised. The neighborhood was decent, but it certainly wasn't classy, and it was a far cry from the luxury she was used to with the Vances.

"You don't live in the Stewart family mansion?" Athan asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

"Mmh," Rachel murmured, offering a tight, non-committal nod.

She turned and reached for the door handle, eager to escape the suffocating tension in the car, but before she could open it, Athan’s hand shot out. He caught her wrist lazily, his grip warm and unyielding.

"Are you just going to leave like that?" he asked smoothly.

Rachel blinked, turning back to look at him. A wave of confusion washed over her. Was she supposed to invite him inside or something?

"Thank you for everything," she said formally, trying to sound composed. "I... I will buy you dinner sometime to properly thank you."

The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to bite her tongue. It was a stupid offer. This guy was the number-one billionaire in the country; he could buy any restaurant on earth. He didn't need her to buy him dinner.

Athan let out a low chuckle, his thumb casually brushing over the pulse point on her wrist. "When two people spend a night like ours together, Rachel, they usually part ways with a kiss."

Rachel stared at him, her heart skipping a beat. "Are you always like this with women, Mr. Gray?"

"I don't have women," Athan replied instantly, his gaze darkening with a sudden, serious intensity. "But if you want to be my woman, I can easily arrange for that. After last night, it's clear we're quite compatible."

Rachel’s breath hitched. She looked away, her voice tightening with reluctance. "I don't think—"

"Don't think what?" Athan interrupted, a wicked, teasing smirk cutting across his handsome face. "You were quite vocal last night, Rachel. If I recall correctly, you were practically begging me to ta—"

Before he could finish the sentence, Rachel’s face exploded in a fiery blush. Driven by pure panic, she threw her hand out, clapping her palm firmly over his mouth to silence him.

Athan didn't pull away. Instead, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and a low, vibrant chuckle rumbled against her palm.

Realizing what she was doing, Rachel abruptly yanked her hand back, pushed the car door open, and practically bolted out of the vehicle.

Athan sat back in the driver's seat, his eyes tracking her retreating figure as she hurried toward the apartment building. A dark, possessive smile touched his lips. Rachel, he thought, you’re the one who started this fire. Did you really think you could just walk away?

Rachel shut her apartment door behind her, leaning against it as she let out a long, trembling exhale.

Her home was a simple, cozy one-bedroom apartment. Dominic had never once stepped foot inside this place, always complaining that it was too small, cramped, and beneath his status.

He had bought her several multi-million-dollar mansions over the years, ordering her to move into them, but Rachel had always refused. She loved this place. It was the only space in the city that felt entirely safe, warm, and hers.

Stepping into the living room, she pulled a large, empty cardboard box out of the closet and set it on the coffee table.

It was time to clean house.

With numb fingers, she began gathering the undeniable proof of her five wasted years with Dominic. She took down the framed photographs of them together—photos where she was always beaming with love, while Dominic looked distant and cold.

She tossed them into the box. Next came the title deeds to the luxury properties he had forced upon her, followed by the extravagant designer gifts she had never asked for.

Finally, she reached into her purse and pulled out the heavy, diamond engagement ring. She stared at the sparkling stone, a cold, detached calmness washing over her.

The girl who would have cried over this ring was dead. Dominic had killed her in that warehouse.

She dropped the ring into the box with a hollow clink.

There were still a few of her personal belongings left behind at Dominic's penthouse.

Rachel tied the box shut, her eyes hardening with an icy resolve. She would go back there one last time, collect her things, and completely cut the remaining ties to the man who had left her to die.