Seductive Mr.Billionaire

5

We spent a day in the warehouse and when we came back to the city I moved straight into Amir’s mansion. When I say that one might assume I actually went to my place to get my things and I took what I needed to his, amateur, it went more like this. We had the conversation where he said he didn’t feel comfortable with me still staying at my house knowing that danger could come to me at any time and he couldn’t protect me. We drove up from the warehouse straight to his house, and my things were somehow already there, taken care of.

The house was a large mansion nestled atop a lush hillside. It had a 1950s castle charm while at the same time having a sleek and modern design features with floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the city skyline below. The grand foyer welcomes guests with a cascading chandelier and a marble staircase leading to the upper levels. Entering the living room, plush velvet sofas surround a fireplace, while different expensive looking art pieces adorn the walls. This is too say it looked quite intimidating everything around screamed opulence and quiet luxury, there was nothing tacky or flashy like every single arrangement was well thought out.

Amir must have noticed as he immediately asked to take me on a tour around the house. The kitchen looked like it came out of an architectural digest column with top-of-the-line appliances and a marble island perfect for hosting extravagant dinner parties, which that role would traditionally fall on me now.

The exterior of the mansion is a symphony of modern architecture and natural beauty. A winding cobblestone path leads from the main entrance to a charming gazebo nestled among towering palm trees and lush greenery. He had a green house in his garden, with his huge the compound was I wondered how many staffs it took to take care of just the outside alone.

Beyond the gazebo, the sprawling grounds reveal a stunning swimming pool, seamlessly blending into the landscape. It was like something out of a movie, I remember audibly gasping as he slowly led me around, Its infinity edge gives the illusion of water cascading into the horizon, while underwater LED lights illuminate the pool at night, creating a mesmerizing ambiance.

There is a spacious sun deck surrounding the pool, furnished with elegant loungers and umbrellas, perfect for soaking up the sun or enjoying poolside cocktails with friends. But it looked too picturesque, like it hadn’t been used much like the rest of the house.

Adjacent to the pool area, a sleek glass structure houses the steam room, i did a double take and heard him laughing, I had been to his house before and I knew how huge it was but if all the times I had never been given or requested a tour, I didn’t think I’d actually live here, I don’t even believe he actually lives here. It feels like a set of a movie, something built too perfectly fit his reputation. I felt like a princess stepping into a Prince’s castle but everything in me warned that I was in the belly of the beast about to be ravaged by his stomach acids.

The star and scariest room was definitely the master suite featuring a king-sized bed draped in dark red Egyptian silk linens, with soft velvet pillows around that made me just want to bury myself in it a separate sitting area with a fireplace, and a private terrace overlooking the pool and gardens below. Atop the ceiling hanging over the bed is a large mirror suggesting the many things this room is used for but I choose to ignore it. The en-suite bathroom is a lavish retreat, complete with a freestanding soaking tub, a walk-in shower with multiple shower heads, and his-and-hers vanities crafted from rare marble.

Everything about this just screamed luxury and elegance with a keen attention to detail, I had meet his interior decorator to shake their hand, it was a stunning job well done.

“Okay, so where’s my room,” I turn to him.

•••

Meeting Amir was like stumbling into a surrealist painting while still trying to sip my coffee. One minute I’m just an everyday girl in a city that chews people up and spits them out, and the next, I’m caught up in some twisted fairy tale.

I’m Sabrina Lowry, and let me tell you, my life up until now was pretty standard, with all the right touches of mundane disaster. My parents were once alive and well, and then, poof—gone. They had this glamorous gig as high-profile gold distributors, and two months after my 16th birthday, they jetted off to Monaco for some business trip. I remember it like yesterday because, you know, it’s the kind of trauma that sticks.

So, my aunt swoops in, fresh off a plane, and I’m thinking, “Wow, my parents must have decided against leaving me alone.” But the way she hugged me, all slow-motion and grave, told me something was off.

She took my hands, looked me dead in the eye, and told me my parents’ plane had crashed. “No survivors,” she said, as if she was reading from a really bad script. I mean, who writes this stuff? I half expected her to follow it up with a dramatic monologue about the fragility of life.

People think plane crashes are common. They’re not. They’re about as rare as finding a unicorn in a city park. But when it happens, you get all the media frenzy, like a bunch of vultures circling. The airline held a mass burial for them—very classy—while I held a small one with my aunt. Then it was off to live with her, a woman who had inherited a whole lot of money but zero parenting skills.

Aunt Mia wasn’t a bad person, but she’d gotten a crash course in how to be my guardian. She was more interested in her new-found wealth than in being an actual aunt. She set up a little account for my education with the insurance money, which was sweet, but it didn’t take long for the rest to disappear into some “promising investment opportunity” that turned out to be a scam. Great job, Aunt Mia.

So, there I was, navigating my teenage years, knowing that everything you work for could vanish in the blink of an eye. I used to blame her for losing the money, but as I grew up, I realized she was just winging it, like the rest of us. I didn’t hate her, but I sure as hell didn’t want to be around her. College came, I moved out, and that was that. I’d get the occasional holiday card, and that was as close as we got.

I set my coffee down and stared at the text on my phone like it held the secrets of the universe. A job posting for a creative director for a fashion show? What was I thinking? I had applied on a whim, not expecting anything. My dreams? Oh, just to be the creative director of some huge magazine—Vogue, maybe. I wanted to be the Anna Wintour or the Blair Waldorf of the industry. Dictator of taste, baby. Who wouldn’t want that? I mean, the power, the respect, the fashion—what’s not to love? I had spent countless late nights dreaming and scheming with my mom about how I would make it big, and now I was so close I could taste it.

To my shock, there was a message inviting me for an interview. Not at a magazine, but hey, baby steps. This was a door, and if I played my cards right, it could lead to a whole lot more. Just as I was lost in my excitement, I noticed this guy across the room staring at me.

And when I say staring, I mean like he was watching a slow-motion train wreck with the kind of intensity that could make your skin prickle. He was tall, probably around 6'4", dark hair perfectly tousled, and his body? Let’s just say he had that lean, muscular thing going on. My brain was starting to make unprofessional calculations about washboard abs—what was wrong with me? I shook my head, trying to focus. Nope, not doing this right now.

He didn’t break eye contact, and I felt like a deer caught in headlights. His smirk was devilish, like he knew he had me pinned in his crosshairs. I could feel my cheeks flushing as I fumbled for my phone, desperately pretending I wasn’t ogling him. Because great, just great. The one time I might actually be in a position to get ahead, and here I am getting distracted by a man who probably didn’t even know how to boil water.

Then, the guy behind him leaned in and whispered something that made Amir chuckle. Okay, Sabrina, you need to focus here. You’ve got an interview tomorrow, and you need to wow them. This is your moment. I mentally slapped myself, trying to get back into the zone.

Time to bounce, Sabrina. I grabbed my things and headed for the door, mentally prepping for tomorrow. Information is power, and I needed every little nugget I could get to storm the castle, so to speak.

As I walked to the bus stop, my heels clicking on the pavement, my phone buzzed with an unknown number. Probably a confirmation call from the company. “Sabrina Lowry,” I answered, ready to sound professional and chic, even though I was in a cute but totally unremarkable outfit.

“Is this Sabrina Lowry?” A man’s voice crackled through the line, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

“Yes, this is she,” I replied, trying to shake the weird feeling in my gut.

A dry chuckle answered me, and I could practically hear the smirk through the phone. “I thought I’d never find you. You sure do know how to hide.”

“Who is this?” I asked, my stomach dropping. This definitely wasn’t a friendly call.

“You don’t know me yet, but I know you, and you owe me a lot of money.”

Oh, great. Just what I needed.