Elena and the billionaire

CHAPTER TWO

The next day,

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand. For a blissful three seconds, i thought i had dreamt about the entire gala, the champagne disaster, the dance, Michael King’s infuriating smile.

Then my phone buzzed again.

I groaned, burying my head under a pillow. “If this is Lila, I swear I’ll block her for a week.”

But curiosity won. I peeked at my phone screen.

Lila 🥂: Darling, you’re FAMOUS.

I sat up, hair looking messy as ever. I opened the message and nearly screamed.

Splashed across a gossip page was my own face, mid-dance, my hand tangled in Michael King’s as chandeliers glittered above them.

The headline: Heiress Elena Cole Finds Her Match? Sparks Fly at Starlight Gala.

“Oh. My. God.” I said with my hand above my mouth.

Another text from Lila popped up: You’re trending. #SpillTheTea. Twitter loves you. Also, please check your angles you look stunning.

I flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “This cannot be my life.”

I stumbled to the kitchen, poured myself coffee, and tried to breathe. It was fine. One embarrassing dance didn’t mean anything. Michael King probably hadn’t even thought about me since. Men like him didn’t.

Except…

My phone buzzed again. This time, a notification from a business news app: Cole Enterprises and King Holdings potential new alliance?

I blinked. “Oh no. This . Is. Bad”

Quickly freshened up and rushed to my car.

By the time i arrived at my father’s office, my nerves were strung tight. Cole Tower loomed over the city, all glass and steel, intimidating in the morning sun. I pushed through the heavy doors of the executive suite, heels clicking against marble.

My father, James Cole, didn’t look up from his desk when i entered. He never did. Papers were neatly stacked in front of him, his silver watch gleaming under the light.

“Elena,” he said, voice clipped. “Sit.”

I perched on the edge of the chair, bracing myself.

“Would you care to explain,” James asked coolly, “why every major paper is printing photos of you in the arms of Michael King?”

I swallowed. “It was an accident. None of this was meant to happen, i promise i…”

“Stop” he interrupted

His eyebrow lifted. “Accidentally dancing in front of three hundred guests?”

“More like accidentally dumping champagne on him,” I muttered.

A pause. Then to my utter shock my father’s stern expression softened into something that almost looked like approval.

“Even better.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Michael King is in talks to expand his investments into real estate. If he chooses Cole Enterprises…” James leaned back, steepling his fingers. “…we’d have leverage like never before. And if he’s already taken an interest in you…”

“No. Absolutely not.” I shot to my feet. “You are not suggesting what I think you are right now.”

James’s gaze sharpened. “I’m suggesting that for once you do something useful. If Michael King is intrigued by you, encourage it. Keep him close.”

My mouth fell open. “You want me to date him? As some kind of… corporate strategy?”

“Not date,” James said smoothly. “Simply… cultivate his attention. Long enough for him to sign with us.”

My blood boiled. “I am not a pawn in your business games. My love life shouldn’t be involved in any of the business strategy or whatever dad”

James’s expression didn’t waver. “You’re a Cole. Which means sometimes you don’t get to choose.”

“I don’t get to…”

My fists clenched at my sides. I wanted to scream, but years of training held my tongue. Instead, i spun on my heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.

I was fuming in my car when i texted Lila and asked to hang out later in the evening.

Phone buzzed and she replied, “okay trending girllll”

I was still fuming when my phone buzzed again.

Unknown number.

Dinner. Tonight. —M.K.

My breath caught. Michael.

I typed furiously: Bold of you to assume I’d say yes.

Three dots appeared. Then his reply:

Bold of you to think I’m asking.

I stared at the screen, stunned. Who was this man? Did he think the entire world bent to his will? Said to myself.

“No,” I muttered aloud, tossing my phone onto the car seat. “No way. I’m not doing this. Not after what my father pulled this morning and also not after my father’s insane plan.”

I got home, freshened up and called Lila to know if she was on her way already

She canceled, as usual. Typical Lila.

“Get off my phone” i screamed

“Baby girl, i’ll make it up to…” i ended the call.

I paced the living room, hands buried in my hair. I would not let Michael King manipulate me. I would not let my father push me into a ridiculous scheme. I would not..

…

I had decided to go to the dinner after thinking about it for a while

“Well, i’m bored i should go” i said to myself

Three hours later, I stood in front of my mirror, slipping into a scandalously perfect red dress.

“This,” i told my reflection firmly, “is purely professional.”

My reflection arched an eyebrow, unconvinced.

⸻

The restaurant Michael chose was one of those impossibly exclusive places where the menu had no prices, because if you had to ask, you didn’t belong there. A string quartet played softly in the corner. Candlelight flickered across marble tables.

Of course, Michael was already seated when i arrived, looking annoyingly composed in a black suit that probably cost more than my car. His eyes found mine the second I stepped in, and he rose smoothly, pulling out my chair.

“Elena,” he greeted, voice like velvet and steel.

“Michael,” i replied coolly, sliding into the seat. “You’re awfully confident I’d show up.”

His lips curved. “I knew you would.”

“And why’s that?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze steady. “Because you wanted to see me again.”

My pulse skipped. I forced a laugh, lifting my water glass. “Please. The only reason I’m here is to tell you last night was a mistake.”

“Funny,” Michael murmured, swirling his wine, “it didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

The waiter arrived, setting the menus in front of us but i barely glanced at it. Michael’s presence was magnetic, unsettling. He was too calm, too assured as if he’d already won a game i didn’t even know they were playing.

I tried for confidence. “Let’s get one thing straight, Michael. I’m not like the women you’re used to.”

His gaze flicked over me, slow and deliberate. “You think I don’t know that?”

My throat tightened. I set my menu down with a snap. “I don’t play games.”

“Neither do I,” he said softly. “When I want something, I go after it.”

The air between us thickened. My mind screamed at me to leave, to stand up, to walk away from this man before he unraveled me completely.

But my body betrayed me leaning ever so slightly forward, drawn to the spark in his eyes.

This wasn’t just dinner. It was the beginning of something dangerous.

And deep down, I knew i wasn’t sure i wanted to escape.

I had survived charity lunch gatherings, society weddings, and the occasional black-tie nightmare where my father introduced me to “eligible bachelors” like i was a prize cow at auction.

But nothing nothing had prepared me for dinner with Michael King.

The restaurant buzzed softly around them low laughter, clinking silverware, the hum of the quartet in the corner but at their table, time felt oddly suspended. Michael sat opposite me, impossibly composed, as though candlelight and luxury were his natural habitat.

I sipped my water, willing myself to act unfazed.

“So,” i said, arching a brow, “is this what you do for fun? Invite strangers to dinner and make them uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” Michael’s mouth curved slightly. “You don’t look uncomfortable.”

“Trust me,” i muttered, “I’m seconds away from running.”

“Liar.”

My head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re curious.” His eyes gleamed in the flickering light. “That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re still sitting across from me instead of storming out.”

I got irritated, stabbing at my napkin. “Or maybe I just like expensive food.”

Michael chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “Then you’ll be pleased to know I ordered the chef’s tasting menu. Six courses.”

“Six?” I blinked. “What if I hate it?”

“Then I’ll eat yours too,” he said easily, leaning back. “Problem solved.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting the smile tugging at my lips. The waiter arrived with our first course delicate little towers of lobster and avocado. Michael thanked him politely, then turned his gaze back on me with unnerving focus.

I shifted in my seat. “What?”

“I’m trying to figure you out.”

My fork froze halfway to my mouth. “Good luck with that.”

He studied me a moment longer, then shrugged. “You don’t like attention, despite being raised in it. You deflect when you’re nervous. And you pretend to dislike me.”

I nearly choked. “Pretend?”

His lips curved. “If you truly disliked me, Elena, you wouldn’t be here.”

My pulse skipped, traitorous. I quickly looked down, focusing on my plate. “Or maybe I just didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I was afraid.”

Michael’s gaze darkened, but not with anger with something else. Something sharper. “You should be.”

The words sent an unexpected shiver through me. I forced a laugh, tossing my hair. “Of you? Please.”

The second course arrived, it was truffle pasta. Michael twirled his fork with practiced ease, never looking away from me.

“So tell me,” he said, voice deceptively casual. “Why does James Cole’s daughter hate these galas so much? You looked ready to flee the moment you arrived last night.”

My shoulders tensed. “Because they’re fake. Plastic smiles, business deals disguised as charity, everyone pretending they care.” I sipped my wine. “I’d rather be anywhere else.”

Michael tilted his head. “Anywhere?”

I smirked. “Don’t tell me you love them.”

“I tolerate them,” he said simply. “They’re useful.”

“Useful,” i repeated flatly. “Of course.”

“Everything has a use, Elena. Even accidents.” His eyes flicked to me, deliberate, reminding me of the champagne spill.

I bristled. “You think I’m useful?”

“I think,” Michael said slowly, “you’re… interesting.”

My heart stuttered. I hated how much weight that single word carried when he said it.

The third course arrived roast duck with cherry glaze. I seized on it as a distraction, cutting into it with more force than necessary.

“You don’t know me,” I said.

“Not yet.” Michael said smiling.

She looked up sharply. Michael’s expression was unreadable, but his gaze burned straight through my composure.

“I’m not some puzzle for you to solve,” I warned him.

“Good,” he said, lips curving. “I get bored easily.”

My knife clattered against the plate. I leaned back, infuriated. “Do you always talk like this? Like every conversation is a game?”

Michael smirked. “Only with people who can keep up.”

My cheeks flushed, though i refused to let him see how he rattled me. I took another sip of wine, needing the courage.

“So what’s your story then?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Mysterious billionaire with a tragic past? Or just a man who likes intimidating women?”

For the first time, Michael’s smile weakened. His gaze flicked away, just for a second.

And in that second, I saw something, something shadowed, something hidden beneath the polished exterior.

When he looked back, the mask was firmly in place. “Careful, Elena. Curiosity can be dangerous.”

My chest tightened, but i lifted my chin. “Then maybe I like danger.”

The silence between us crackled, thick and charged.

By the time the sixth course arrived lavender crème brûlée my nerves were shredded. I cracked the caramel shell with my spoon, pretending not to notice the way Michael watched me, steady and relentless.

When the check arrived, he signed it without hesitation. As we rose, he offered me his arm.

I hesitated. Then, against my better judgment, i took it.

Indecisive much.

Outside, the night air was cool, the city glittering around us. For a moment, we stood in silence, too close, too aware.

“Thank you for dinner,” I said finally, forcing a polite smile. “It was… tolerable.”

Michael chuckled. “High praise, coming from you.”

I turned to leave, but his hand caught mine, warm and steady.

“Elena,” he murmured, his voice softer now, stripped of its usual edge. “This isn’t over.”

My heart stumbled. I pulled my hand free, looking at him. “We’ll see.”

And then i walked away, heels clicking against the pavement, pulse racing with every step.

Because deep down, I knew he was right and i don’t like that.

This wasn’t over.

It was only the beginning.