The billionaire's forbidden pit stop

Episode 3: The Hunter and the Rabbit

The atmosphere inside the grand executive boardroom of Novak Tech was thick with tension, the air conditioning humming silently against the massive glass walls. It was late Wednesday afternoon, and this was officially the final corporate meeting Adrian Kayel Novak would participate in before he completely went off the grid until Monday. Once he walked out of these doors, his focus would shift entirely away from the business suits and straight into the high-octane preparation for the upcoming racing season.

A group of high-profile international clients sat around the long, polished mahogany table, nervously presenting a multi-million-dollar tech partnership. Graphs, financial projections, and lucrative contract terms flickered across the massive projector screen at the front of the room. The clients were sweating, looking anxiously at the head of the table where Adrian sat, his large frame draped in his signature black blazer. He hadn't uttered a single word for the past forty-five minutes, merely watching them with those terrifying, icy black eyes.

Suddenly, a sharp, brief vibration broke the heavy silence.

*Buzz.*

Adrian’s personal phone lit up on the table right next to his hand. The clients instantly stopped talking, holding their breath as the billionaire slowly lowered his gaze to the screen.

As his dark eyes scanned the encrypted data file that had just been bypassed straight to his private network, something shifted in the room. The cold, unreadable mask Adrian usually wore cracked. A slow, dangerous smirk crept onto his lips, his white teeth contrasting sharply against his honey skin. His scary black eyes practically glowed with a sudden, predatory intensity. It was an expression of pure, unadulterated dark satisfaction—as if he had just been handed something far more exhilarating than a brand-new, multi-million-dollar racing car, or the most awaited corporate contract in the history of his company.

This was infinitely better. He had been waiting patiently for this exact moment.

The anonymous reporter and freelance cameraman who had been doing everything in their power to drag his name through the dirt, the one who had crossed the line by targeting his closest friends, had finally slipped up. His elite digital investigators had traced the heavily encrypted payout channels, breaking through the walls of the media house.

He had finally discovered the true identity of the mysterious 'Milli.'

It wasn't a seasoned, ruthless veteran journalist backed by a massive media empire. It was a fiercely independent, stubborn freelance motorsport photographer.

*Asaliya Millicent.*

Adrian stared at the profile picture attached to the file. She was gorgeous, possessing a sharp, striking beauty that didn't belong in the filthy, corrupt world of tabloid journalism. Yet, for some completely unknown reason, this pretty girl was weaponizing her camera, trying her absolute best to destroy him and his reputation piece by piece.

Adrian’s smirk widened into something dark and commanding. Before the official practice sessions for the new racing season kicked off, he decided he would have a very private, official meeting with the elusive Miss Milli.

Without looking up at the terrified clients who were still waiting for him to speak, Adrian pulled the phone into his hand and quickly typed out a direct message to his personal assistant, Zara:

> *Schedule an immediate, private meeting with Asaliya Millicent. Bring her to my office before the day ends.*

>

He tossed the phone back onto the table and gave the clients a brief, rigid nod, giving them permission to continue their presentation. But Adrian wasn't listening anymore. In his mind, the hunt had already begun.

Ten agonizing minutes passed before his phone buzzed again. Adrian picked it up, expecting a confirmation. Instead, the text from Zara read:

> *Mr. Novak, I contacted her agency and her personal line. She completely refused the invitation. She stated she has no interest in private meetings with you.*

>

Adrian’s eyes narrowed, the dark glow in his irises turning dangerously cold. He checked the digital clock on the wall. It was exactly 7:00 PM. A stubborn little rabbit, wasn't she? She thought she had a choice. She thought she could hide behind her camera, throw dirt on his name, and then simply walk away when he called.

He opened his contacts, bypassing his assistant entirely, and sent a direct, chilling message to his chief personal bodyguard:

> *Kidnap Asaliya Millicent. Bring her directly to my private condo in Australia. The one off the grid. Make sure no one sees you.*

>

Adrian turned off his phone, sliding it into his pocket as he stood up from the boardroom table, abruptly ending the meeting without a single word to the stunned clients. If she refused to walk into his world willingly, he would simply drag her into it.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, the golden hues of the late summer evening were fading into a warm, humid twilight. Asaliya Millicent let out a long, exhausted sigh as she walked away from the luxury beach resort where she had spent the entire afternoon working. Today hadn't been about high-speed tracks or sleek cars; she had taken a freelance gig shooting a lavish beach wedding just to pay the bills and keep her independent photography business afloat.

Her heavy, professional DSLR camera hung securely over her shoulder, the strap digging into her skin. Because of the intense summer heat, she was dressed completely casually, wearing a simple, oversized sports jersey that swallowed her small frame, paired with a matching short skort that left her legs bare. Walking down the quiet, narrow lane leading away from the resort toward her hotel room, she looked deceptively fragile—like a tiny, innocent rabbit lost in a world of predators, completely unaware of the danger closing in on her.

The lane was peaceful, flanked by tall, whispering palm trees and high stone walls that blocked out the main roads. The only sound was the distant crashing of the ocean waves and the soft thud of her sneakers against the pavement.

Suddenly, the quiet evening air was shattered by the aggressive, synchronized roar of heavy engines.

Asaliya blinked, pausing in her tracks as the sharp glare of high-beam headlights illuminated the dark lane. Before she could even process what was happening, a massive, matte-black Defender SUV swerved around the corner ahead, its tires screeching loudly as it tore down the pavement and slammed to a violent halt right in front of her, completely blocking her path.

Instinctively, Asaliya took a panicked step backward, her heart hammering against her ribs. But before she could turn to run, a second, identical matte-black Defender roared up from behind her. It cut off her only escape route, pinning her tightly in the middle of the narrow lane.

The heavy doors of both armored vehicles flew open simultaneously. Four towering, broad-shouldered men dressed in flawless, dark tactical suits stepped out into the twilight, their expressions completely blank and professional. They moved with terrifying, military-grade speed, surrounding her within seconds.

Asaliya’s grip tightened on her camera strap, her stubborn nature flaring up through her fear. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, her sharp tongue weaponized as she backed up against the side of the stone wall. "Get away from me!"

The chief bodyguard didn't answer. He didn't offer an explanation, a name, or a warning. He simply stepped forward, his massive frame towering over her like a shadow, reaching out to claim Adrian Novak's prize.