One Night Stand with the Billionaire

Michelle's POV I had to get out of that suffocating dorm room before I lost what was left of my sanity. The walls felt like they were closing in, and the memories of Sam's infectious laugh echoed in my head, the way he'd get excited talking about everything. I’ve tried, honestly tried, to let go and forget but it's just not working. Two months…two months since the phone call that shattered everything, the day my little brother’s laugh was silenced by twisted metal and broken glass. "Take me to the beach," I told the cab driver, my voice barely above a whisper. "Any beach." The Pacific stretched endlessly before me as I stepped down from the car, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of orange and crimson. It should have been beautiful. Instead, it felt like the world was mocking me—all this beauty continuing to exist when Sam couldn’t. I picked my way across the sand, dodging joggers and evening surfers. I found a piece of driftwood away from the scattered families and sank down onto it like a shipwreck survivor. I was so lost in the hypnotic pull of the water and the song playing through my airpods—"A Thousand Years” by Jada Facer—that I didn’t hear the footsteps until they stopped just behind me. “Mind if I sit?” I removed my airpods and turned to find a man standing a few feet away, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He stood in a way that suggested he understood the fragility of someone seeking silence-. He was tall, with a strong, full frame—not bulky, just… solid, like nothing could move him unless he let it, but his eyes looked like they carried weight. “Sure.” I shifted over on the driftwood. He settled beside me with a heavy exhale, both of us staring out at the waves. For several minutes, we sat in silence—two strangers united by whatever had driven us to seek solace in the endless sea. “I lost my brother,” I finally said, surprising myself. I hadn’t talked about Sam to anyone except the grief counselor Brenda insisted I see. “In an accident, two months ago.” He was quiet for so long, I wondered if he’d even heard me. Then he said, “I’m sorry. That’s…” He shook his head. “There aren’t words for that kind of loss.” “You sound like you know.” “Yeah,” he said, picking up a handful of sand and letting it slip through his fingers. I noticed his hands, they were strong but gentle, with an expensive watch glittering on his wrist. “I keep thinking I see him,” I admitted. “On campus, in crowds, for just a second, my heart jumps because I think… but it’s never him.” “The mind plays tricks when we’re grieving,” he said gently. “It’s trying to protect us from a reality it’s not ready to accept.” “Have you ever lost someone close to you?” He smiled sadly. “I lost my mum sixteen years ago…in a car accident.” “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I was touched, realizing we were both carrying the same type of wound. It felt like the universe had somehow brought two broken people together. “I was closest to her,” he said, staring at the ground, running a hand through his hair as if holding back tears. I patted him gently on the back. “Something must have brought those memories back again?” I asked softly. “Yeah… yeah,” he responded slowly. *** I didn’t even realize that the beach had emptied around us, leaving only the sound of waves and distant traffic. “I should probably go home,” I said with a tired sigh. “Want to grab a drink?” he asked, gesturing towards a place. “I’ve got some in the car, and honestly, I’m not ready to go just yet.” I thought about it. Going back to my dorm when Brenda and Lia weren’t around meant more crying and self-pity. But more than that, I felt this connection—because he had passed through what I was battling with. He stood, brushing sand from his shorts. “I drove here,” he said. “If you’re comfortable with that.” The ocean breeze pressed his shirt against his body, showing how fit he was, but it was his eyes that got me—so unexpectedly kind. I hesitated. Every self-defense class, every stern parental lecture about stranger danger screamed warnings at me, but being with him felt… safe. Maybe it was how he’d kept a respectful distance, or maybe I was just tired of being afraid. “Okay,” I said, taking his offered hand to pull myself up from the driftwood and we started walking toward where he had parked his car. What I hadn’t expected was the kind of car he drove to the beach. The Mercedes-Benz wasn’t just a car—it was a show-off, sitting there like it knew I’d never get close without setting off an alarm. “Holy s**t,” I breathed. His laugh was self-conscious. “Not exactly subtle, is it?” “Are you some kind of tech billionaire or something?” “Oh, you think so?” he said, smiling as he pressed the key fob to unlock the car, opening the passenger door for me. “If this makes you uncomfortable—” “No, it’s just…” I stared at the butter-soft leather interior and the dashboard that looked like mission control. “You getting in?” he asked. That was when I realized I’d been staring. I slid into the passenger seat. The leather was incredibly soft and smelled like expensive cologne. As he closed the door, I looked at him again when he came in through the other door and sat down. I’d seen him before—I just couldn’t quite place where. “I think I know you,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Oh really?” he replied with a smirk. “Have you ever modeled for a company before?” “Hmm… maybe my twin,” he said, laughing it off. I blinked. Twin?