THE BILLIONAIRE’S CALL GIRL

03.

[Lena]

Damien Vale.

The Damien Vale.

As in—

Business magazine Damien Vale.

“World’s youngest emotionless billionaire” Damien Vale.

“CEO so terrifying, grown men rehearse presentations in the mirror before meeting him” Damien Vale.

That Damien Vale is currently standing inside my apartment.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

Love that for me.

I stare at him properly now and honestly? The magazines undersold him. Which feels illegal somehow because men should not look this offensively fine while also resembling a potential murder suspect.

Tall.

Like unnecessarily tall.

Dark hair slightly pushed back like he ran his hand through it recently.

Broad shoulders stretching against his black shirt.

Sharp jawline.

Sharp cheekbones.

Sharp everything honestly.

Even his face looks expensive.

Reminds me of the male lead in many of my failed and rejected books. I didn't know someone could like this.

And his eyes?

God.

Those eyes look like they’ve never laughed a day in their life. And right now, they're telling me I shouldn't be checking him out. I shouldn't even be rambling right now.

“You can ask Mr. David,” I ramble quickly, pointing toward the door. “I paid my rent in full. Every single month. So unless billionaires now personally inspect apartments for fun, I genuinely don’t understand why you're in my home.”

The young slender man who hijacked me out of my room looks seconds away from cardiac arrest after what I just said.

But Damien? Mr. Damien—respectfully— Nothing. No reaction.

He just keeps staring at me.

Not normal staring either. Not “oh there’s a person speaking” staring. No. This man is studying me like he misplaced something important inside my face.

And.... Oh.

Okay.

He’s walking toward me.

Why is he walking toward me? Nobody told him to do that.

My feet are taking corresponding steps backward, not until I hit the couch.

My back straightens instinctively as he stops right in front of me.

And wow.

Being close to him is somehow worse.

He smells clean.

Not sweet. Not smoky. Not that weird aggressive “I bathed in expensive wood” cologne rich men usually wear. This smells crisp. Like fresh laundry folded in a luxury hotel I can’t afford, and It’s annoyingly nice.

His gaze drops to my face again.

“Lena Hamilton?”

Oh my god, that's deeper than anything I've heard.

“Y-Yes?”

I croak in response but then silence. Just him staring. Again.

He's staring long enough for me to start wondering if I somehow have toothpaste on my face.. And s**t! I didn't brush!

My lips curl inside my mouth, but then he speaks again: “Who are you?”

All forms of confusion hits me. "what?"

Excuse me?

My brows pull together immediately.

“I’m sorry, is this a trick question?”

He leans away and exhales. “You heard me.”

Okay.

No.

This man is clinically insane.

“I’m Lena,” I answer slowly."You literally just called my name. Lwna Hamilton. Human Female. Your tenant—"

“That night at Black Orchid?”

I blink repeatedly. "Black orchid?"

“Sir,” I say carefully, “do I look like someone that can enter Black Orchid?”

I point at myself immediately. "Me? At black orchid? Trust me. You have the wrong person."

“Do you know how much a drink costs there? Okay—obviously you do. But my entire bloodline would need to contribute financially before I can even smell the entrance.”

Damien’s expression remains unreadable. His face tilts to the side. He turns and walks back to the couch he was sitting on.

“You expect me to believe you’ve never been there?”

“I have never even breathed near that place!"

"Lying only makes it worse, trust me miss." The human rhinoceros that's standing beside the cute one whispers to me.

"Mr. Damien." I rush forward. "I've lived a very boring life. I can't even get entangled in your world. I don't know what went down at the club but I've never been there. You have to believe me."

This man genuinely rolls his eyes at me, but I don't mind.

"Miss Hamilton..." the cute one calls me and I turn to him.

"we got your number from the black orchid club. You were there five days ago. There's no need to lie about it. You were the stripper for Mr. Vale that night remember. We know you're a one-timer there and—"

"wait...wait....pls...phone.. My number.... what-what are you talking about?*

"this was a mistake." Damien Vale mutters under his breathe and stands to his feet.

He spares me one last glance. "Wait for my call." He says and walks out the door.

"Running is only worse, and trust me, Mr. Vale means no harm." the cute one smiles at me as they all leave my apartment.

I sit awestruck. My mouth slightly open.

The words hit me instantly.

Phone?

Phone.

My phone.

I run into my room. After scattering everywhere, it's right there. Hidden underneath my pillow, but I don't recognize it.

That's not my phone.

Where's my baby?

Where's my phone?

Of course I took it to the reunion. Right! My purse!

I rush for my purse. There's nothing in there. I run to the living room. It's not there either. I run into the next room—Anna's room. It's not there either.

I slowly walk back to my room. Slowly pick up the strange phone that's lying in my bed. I hit the power button and it comes on. There's only a picture of a rose flower on the background..

With a thumping heart, I swipe either way. It comes unlocked without a pin.

There are several missed calls. I don't recognize any of those numbers. And right there in my hand, it starts ringing.

I gently swipe green. Scared of what I might hear, I put it on speakerphone than taking it to my ear.

"Miss Hamilton?"

"Hello?"

"Great. This is Jonathan. Mr. Vale's assistant. Just want to be sure you haven't thrown away this phone. Save my number, we'll contact you soon." The line dies immediately.

My eyes doesn't leave the screen that fades into darkness.

I don't understand anything. I don't understand what's going on. I mean... I was at the reunion last night and then... Then Noah showed up... And I-i humiliated myself right? I got drunk and slept through the whole thing. Anna slapped me awake and I got out, but... But then I wanted to puke right?

Oh.

Oh no.

It finally hit me.

The damn bushes.

Bushes.

Vodka.

Masked woman.

Collision.

My soul slowly exits my body.

Because suddenly I remember exactly how I got the mysterious phone.

"s**t!" I cuss out loud.