The Billionaire's Domination Game (Seductive Billionaire's Bedroom #10)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Grace

I was exhausted. Every muscle in my body ached, and all I wanted was a hot shower and silence. The moment I stepped into the apartment, though, I knew neither was an option.

A loud shriek pierced the air. Olivia.

"OH MY GOD, GRACE!" she screamed, nearly knocking me over as she ran from the living room, waving a piece of paper in my face.

I sighed, dropping my gym bag by the door. "Tell me this is an acceptance letter to med school, not whatever I think it is."

"It’s even better!" she gushed, eyes shining. "I got a DreamCrest VIP ticket! Do you know how impossible that is? I entered the fan lottery three months ago and glanced at the ticket, unimpressed. "So, you get to throw yourself at a bunch of guys in skinny jeans. Congrats."

Olivia gasped, clutching her chest as I’d personally insulted her ancestors.

"Excuse me? First of all, DreamCrest are global iciconThis is not just a ‘bunch of guys.’ And second, those skinny jeans? Designer. Worth more than your entire wardrobe."

I snorted. "Then they’re overpaying for denim."

She groaned, flopping onto the couch. "You have no soul. How are we even related?"

"You ask this every time you talk about them," I reminded her, heading toward the kitchen. I grabbed a water bottle and leaned against the counter, watching as she pulled out her phone, no doubt already rewatching old DreamCrest performances.

"Because I still don’t get it," Olivia muttered, not looking up. "How can you be so… so cold toward music? Toward them?"

I took a long sip of water. "It’s not the music, Liv. It’s the people. Celebrities, rich boys, guys who have everything handed to them? They don’t impress me."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "You make it sound like they do nothing. DreamCrest worked their asses off for years—Dominic Beethoven, especially. He writes half their songs!"

I frowned slightly. The name was familiar, of course. Dominic Beethoven. The golden boy of DreamCrest. The one with the sunshine smile and thousands of devoted fans who swore he was a gift to the music industry. I barely knew anything about him beyond what Olivia gushed about daily.

Still, he was just another pop star.

"Good for him," I said flatly.

Olivia let out a dramatic sigh. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re obsessed."

"Because they’re amazing!" she shot back. "You should come with me to the concert. I have an extra ticket?—"

"Not happening."

"Come on! Just once, Grace. Let yourself have fun for a change!"

I shook my head. "I don’t do fun."

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "No, you don’t. You do work, eat, sleep, and repeat."

"Sounds productive to me."

"It sounds miserable," she muttered. "Seriously, when’s the last time you went on a date? Or even just did something not job-related?"

I didn’t answer.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

For as long as I could remember, I’d been Olivia’s protector. Our parents died when I was seventeen, and she was barely ten. I had to grow up fast, taking on responsibility when most people my age were just figuring out college parties and weekend trips.

Fun had never been a priority. Survival was.

But Olivia didn’t need to hear that speech again.

"I’ll have fun when I retire at fifty," I said instead, heading toward my room.

"At this rate, you’ll retire alone at fifty," she called after me.

I chuckled but didn’t argue.

Later that night, Olivia was still glued to her phone, sprawled across the couch with DreamCrest music playing softly in the background. I had my laptop open, checking emails from the security firm I contracted with.

"Did you hear about Dominic?" Olivia suddenly asked, not looking up.

I barely glanced away from my screen. "Who?"

She sighed. "Dominic Beethoven. Do you ever listen to me?"

"Not when you’re fangirling."

"Rude." She sat up, turning her phone toward me. "Look at this."

I sighed and leaned forward, scanning the screen.

It was a headline from a celebrity gossip site. "DreamCrest’s Golden Boy Under Pressure: Security Tightens Amid Mystery Threats."

My brows lifted slightly. "Threats?"

"Yeah," Olivia nodded. "No one knows what’s going on, but his security has been ramped up for the past month. Some fans even said he looked at their last press event."

I scrolled down, finding a leaked photo of Dominic at what appeared to be a meeting with security personnel. Unlike his usual dazzling, playful public image, he looked tense.

His smile was gone. His posture was rigid.

I frowned.

Celebrities always dealt with overzealous fans, so it wasn’t unusual for high-profile figures to need protection. But something about his expression in that photo… it wasn’tst annoyance.

It was a calculation.

Like he wasn’t just concerned—he was planning something.

Interesting.

"Crazy, right?" Olivia said, shaking her head. "I hope he’s okay."

I closed the tab. "He’ll be fine. Guys like him have entire teams dedicated to making sure their biggest problem is running out of hair gel."

"Grace."

I smirked. "I’m just saying."

She groaned, falling back onto the couch. "You’re a lost cause."

I just shrugged.

A few hours later, Olivia had gone to bed, and I was enjoying the rare silence when my phone buzzed.

I frowned, checking the caller ID. It was Elliot Greene, one of the higher-ups at Titan Security, the firm I worked with.

A call this late? Never good news.

I answered. "Grace Dauntless."

"Grace," Elliot’s deep voice rumbled through the speaker. "Hope I didn’t wake you."

"You didn’t," I said. "What’s going on?"

There was a slight pause before he said, "We have a high-profile client requesting private security. Someone highly skilled."

I leaned back in my chair. "And?"

"And we want you on it."

I exhaled slowly. "Who’s the client?"

Another pause. Then?—

"Dominic Beethoven."

I stared at the wall, processing.

Of course.

Of course,, it had t,o be him.

I closed my eyes briefly before muttering, "Something told me I wasn’t going to like this job."