Billionaire Boss

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

L ily

My heart thrums in my ears. This has to work. It just has to. I offer what I hope looks like a smile. “It’ll go through. Give it another swipe.”

The store clerk looks at me with disinterest. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” I tap my fingernails on the countertop, praying that my debit card will make this possibly life-altering ten-dollar-and-some-change purchase.

He runs the card again, looking unsurprised when it’s once again declined.

“It’s okay,” I say, grabbing the item off the belt. “I’ll put it away.”

“Wait.” A deep voice from behind stops me. “What is it? Ten bucks? I’ll pay.”

I turn around, searching for the voice. Behind me stands a gorgeous man looming over six feet tall, impeccably dressed, with a jawline that could cut glass. His piercing blue eyes stare down at me.

“Um. That’s nice but I don’t think?—”

“Please,” he says, reaching for the item in my hand. “Allow me.”

Shame and humiliation bubble up inside me. Do I give it to him? Those blue eyes go cloudy at my resistance. This is a man who isn’t used to being told no.

It takes a full ten seconds for me to hand him the white cardboard box.

“I see.” That’s all he says as he hands the box to the cashier for purchase.

This handsome stranger is buying me my first pregnancy test.

As the cashier hands over the white cardboard box, I feel a mix of gratitude and embarrassment wash over me. This man, this stranger, is buying me a pregnancy test without even knowing my name.

I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze as he pays for it, the weight of the situation settling heavily on my shoulders. What will this test reveal? Is he judging me for needing it?

Once the transaction is complete, the man turns to face me again, his intense blue eyes searching mine. “I hope everything turns out okay for you,” he says quietly, his voice filled with an unexpected tenderness.

I manage a weak smile, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Thank you,” I whisper, unable to muster any more words.

He nods once, a silent understanding passing between us, before turning to leave the store. I watch him go, his confident stride carrying him away from me and the uncertainty that awaits me at home.

I take a deep breath, pocket the pregnancy test, and return to my apartment. The short walk feels like an eternity, each step heavy with the weight of the unknown. I can feel the man’s eyes on me, his act of kindness lingering in my mind.

As I walk into the house, the silence wraps around me like a suffocating blanket. The white cardboard box on my kitchen counter seems to taunt me, daring me to uncover its secrets. With trembling hands, I tear it open and pull out the test, my heart racing.

Minutes tick by agonizingly slowly as I wait for the results to appear. The seconds feel like hours as I stare at the test, willing it to give me some sign, some answer to the question that looms over me.

And then, as if in a whisper, only one pink line materializes before my eyes. My breath catches in my throat as a rush of conflicting emotions washes over me—relief and a glimmer of disappointment.

I know it’s the wrong time. Wrong man. Wrong life. But I always wanted to be a mom one day.

I sink to the floor, the weight of the moment crashing down on me. Relief floods through my veins but is quickly replaced by a sense of loss. The tiny hint of excitement that came with the possible pregnancy now is an empty void.

I’m all alone.

My small town, too young parents couldn’t hide the fact they didn’t want me in the first place. Once I went to college, they were out of the picture. Took what little savings they had and went off to explore Scotland, Ireland, and Wales.

Together.

Driving in the final knife that made me cut them off for my own mental health.

It wasn’t their relationship they weren’t happy with.

Just me.

Making friends in college was easy. I felt like I had a chosen family. Then I fell for him and ruined everything good I had created for myself, all the while fooling myself into thinking I was building my future with him.

My controlling boyfriend pushed all the friends I made in college out of my life by demanding every moment of my time.

Then said boyfriend learned that my period was four weeks late.

And now, he’s gone too. Along with my savings account, leaving me with a possible pregnancy and rent due in two weeks’ time.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I clutch the test, the reality of my situation settling in. How did I get here? What will I do now? Questions swirl in my mind, each one more daunting than the last.

The bright hope of my future when I was earning my art degree seems like a million miles away now. When we moved in together, he was going to help out with the bills, allowing me to hit the pavements of New York to apply at every art museum and gallery I could, attempting to find my dream job.

Then he cleaned out my savings and disappeared in the night.

Unemployed. Heartbroken. Broke. Alone.

A loud, determined knock startles me, and I scramble to compose myself before answering. As I open the door, the man from the store stands before me, his expression unreadable.

Was he… following me?

“Hello?”

“I wanted to check on you,” he says quietly, his gaze searching mine for any hint of what I’m feeling.

I swallow hard, struggling to put into words the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. “Thank you, um. It’s all good.”

“That’s good to hear.” Those blue eyes stare at me, drawing information from me.

I shake my head. “Negative.”

“Sorry. You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal life. I just wanted to be sure you got home safe.”

“You followed me,” I say, stating the obvious, but it needs to be said.

I don’t know this man and an act of kindness in the city doesn’t go unappreciated, but after the disaster the last time I trusted a man… I need to ask the right questions.

“I did,” he admits, his voice soft and sincere. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw the turmoil in your eyes back in the store, and I couldn’t just walk away without knowing if you were alright.”

His honesty catches me off guard, and for a moment, I struggle to find the right words to respond. This stranger, with his chiseled features and kind eyes, is showing me more concern than anyone has in a long time. But can I trust him? After everything I’ve been through, can I allow myself to lean on someone new?

Taking a deep breath, I meet his gaze, searching for any sign of malice or ulterior motives. All I find is genuine concern and a hint of vulnerability that mirrors my own. Maybe, just maybe, this man could be different.

“Thank you,” I say finally, the weight of my gratitude heavy in the air between us. “I appreciate you checking in on me.”

He nods. “I couldn’t help noticing you might be short on money. I have a proposition for you.”

His words hang in the air, laden with a promise of hope and possibility. I can’t help but feel a spark of curiosity ignite within me. A proposition? What could this stranger possibly want from me? But as I gaze into his eyes, I see sincerity and kindness, not a hint of deceit.

“What kind of proposition?” I ask cautiously, my heart fluttering with a mix of apprehension and intrigue.

He hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully before speaking. “I run a business not far from here, and I’ve been looking for someone to help me with the day-to-day operations. Your need for work… it’s evident. I’ve been interviewing for weeks but haven’t found the right fit for my front desk. You seem sweet. What I need. Would you consider working for me?”

The offer hangs in the air between us, shimmering with possibility. Me, working this soon, an income just when I need to pay rent? It’s a dream I never dared to entertain, especially after everything that has happened. Yet here it is, laid out before me like a lifeline in the storm.

Worry and doubt creep in. Like my last boyfriend, this man has to be too good to be true.

“No,” I say. My hand goes to the door. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“Why?” His face tightens, again a man not used to being told no.

“Thanks again for the pregnancy—purchase.” I offer a smile as I close the door, memorizing the lines of his extraordinary face as I do. “Good night.”

The door closes with a click. I lock the deadbolt. Ending the chapter of my life where I trust men.