The Billionaire's Hidden Desires

Chapter 2 Unwanted Attention

It was Ethan Blackwood. Her thoughts were swirling at this point but both were silent for a moment, neither one speaking. Then Ethan spoke first. "I don't believe we've met," he began, low and smooth as silk. "Ethan Blackwood."

Lila just stood there, still speechless. "Lila Hart," was all she could finally manage to tell him in an almost inaudible whisper.

He held her in his unwavering gaze for a moment before he pulled back. "You caught my eye before. You seem so different from the crowd."

Lila blushed; she couldn't decide whether she should take it as a compliment or a criticism. "I don't do many parties," she admitted, looking away.

Ethan could smile, and his face, for the first time, filled with real warmth. "I don't care for them," that was surprising for her to hear him admit. "But sometimes, we have to play the game."

They went on so smoothly to travel from literature. She was surprised by how smoothly she had found herself with him. He was debonair and charming, and he did make her feel special.

They joked around the banter, and in their normalcy, a photographer repeated the same process, carting away a photo, capturing the most improbable moment of their association. They had no clue it would be one uproar that would unleash the tabloids in motion come the next morning.

The night was wearing into one long yawn; Ethan had felt he should leave. Yet he didn't want the conversation to end, not just yet. He felt something was interesting about Lila—something real, fresh. He stretched his hand, allowing fingers to touch her arm slightly, lightly. "Would you like to meet sometime? Maybe for coffee?"

That would be expected, she thought; she could never have counted on some guy like Ethan Blackwood paying attention to some girl like her. A thousand times over, acid thoughts raced through her mind. Almost speaking, her phone buzzed, and she looked at the screen with Sophie's name. "I should go," she said, pulling away. "My friend's here."

"Yeah, for sure," Ethan had said, changing the expression. His eyes were half-glazed from the reflection of incredulity. “Yeah, sure," stepping back. "It's been good meeting you, Lila."

She turned and started walking away, the swing a bit inward. She had liked talking to Ethan about all this a lot, a lot more than she would have been comfortable to say to anyone. And she was, after all, the average woman running a bookstore limping along; he was the billionaire for whom the world lay at his very feet.

But his eyes kept on her until she was well and truly out of sight; for all that, he had a hard time convincing himself that Lila Hart was all done with him. Though there was something about her, reaching in and pulling him more.

As the night drew in, so did the process of cleaning up after the gala. The fête went on—a dozen dancers from the electric group were as white as the pearls in their lapels—the Moet was too warm; the prancing cheers of the social swimthletics too loud to be heard. By the time the guests staggered away, so did it all.

And halfway to the red-top press was the incriminating photograph of Ethan and Lila—the kind of low shot that makes the highest sales numbers—from the law of sequels of thrills and chills now covering them, Ethan and Lila, both, in the middle of a scandal which each, in his and her maddest dream, had never even vented.

The photograph of Ethan and Lila dressed the pages of the front-runners the following morning, screaming headlines of the unknown woman who has finally gained the hard-hearted billionaire's attention. As Ethan stared back at him from his paper in his penthouse, his phone rang off the hook with his PR team;

Lila sat in her dingy apartment, staring in shock at her now-besieging phone requests from the media. It is the stage for the unexpected proposition that will change them both.

The morning sun strode across the floor of Ethan Blackwood's penthouse between the slats of his window blinds, casting long shadows across the room onto the furniture, all modern and sparkling. Ethan Blackwood himself, standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows with his cup of coffee in hand, pursed his lips and gazed out on the city skyline. His morning routine was always a time for quiet contemplation, but today was the day he was disturbed.

Newspapers lay on the marble counter, piles and more piles of them—one having the same picture on its front page: “Ethan Blackwood with some unknown lady, talking close but firmly, almost intimately”.

"Billionaire's Mystery Woman," "Ethan Blackwood's New Flame?," and "Who Is She?" The story had veritably caught on in the media, which went head over heels trying to figure out who the woman in the photo was and what her background was. And his phone couldn't help but incessantly ring from the clustered calls and messages of his PR team, friends, and other relatives that he hadn't talked to in years.

He blew a deep breath out as he scrubbed the back of his neck. Not quite the way he'd wanted to start his day. Taking another sip of his coffee, he began to think.

Lila Hart had been that one woman, rather a breath of fresh air against all those socialites he normally met.

Somehow, she had something very genuine in her that seemed to call for him. This feeding frenzy of the media was about to radically change the life of one Lila Hart.

Down the city, in a small apartment over a small bookstore, Lila Hart stumbled her way through her version of this morning's bedlam. In front of her on the kitchen table, Lila looked hard at the picture of herself and Ethan, eyes wide. Her phone had been off the hook, mostly Sophie, elated and horrified by the attention. It wasn't much, but the tabs had dredged up all they could find on Lila. They'd remarked on her money struggles, that she clearly wasn't living life in the lap of luxury, working at a small bookstore.

Her plain dress at the ball had its share of withering snide remarks about the glamorous gowns around her.

The idea of the consequences was what quickened her pulse. Lila had never reached out for the limelight; she, in fact, had never wanted to be the center of attraction. Probably hers was the greatest riches of a quiet life and a bookstore.

Now, her face had hit the news, and what about her privacy? It was naked, without any protection.

She was trying to get herself back together when the door knocked. Hesitatingly, Lila got up slowly to answer the door. She began turning the doorknob and saw a sharp-dressed guy with a calm but professional poise. "Miss Hart?" he inquired, holding up a business card. "Jameson Clark, personal assistant to Mr. Ethan Blackwood. May I come in?"

Lila's eyes fluttered open, surprised, and then she nodded him inside. Jameson stepped through the door, his eyes taking in the small apartment with a polite smile. He gestured for her to sit down and took one across from her at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry to barge in," he began, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Mr. Blackwood sent me to discuss the current situation."

Lila frowned at him, crossing her arms. "What situation?"

He laid a folder on the table and opened it so she could see a sheaf of papers. "The media furor over you and Mr. Blackwood has become quite a sensation. We understand this is an unwanted invasion of your privacy, and Mr. Blackwood is prepared to take steps so that you are protected and your reputation is protected."

Lila squinted. "And what would those steps be?"