ONE NIGHT STAND WITH THE BILLIONIARE

TRINA POV

I will never fall in love again.

As I gulped down another shot of vodka, I whispered that to myself.

It hardly lessened the pain in my chest, but it burned down.

I don't have the mental capacity for alcohol, but I shouldn't be drinking.

Tonight, all I want to do is forget how much my heart hurts.

Nothing helps, though.

Marco Gutierrez didn't tell me I wasn't sexy, gentle, or considerate until three years later.

I don't understand how he could become cold so quickly after everything he said showed that he cared for me.

What was different?

I saw images of him online a few hours ago.

He was smiling in England alongside a woman who looked as if she had stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Has he already started seeing someone else just three days after our breakup?

Did he meet this woman before we broke up? Wake up?

Had he consistently misled me?

Had I truly fallen short of what he cherished?

It felt as though someone was driving a knife deep into my chest.

How could he so effortlessly disrupt what we had?

When it still feels like I'm breathing underwater, how can I move on?

I poured myself another drink and drank it all in one go.

That hollow ache persisted even as my vision began to blur.

I detested feeling so helpless.

My heart lurched when someone slid onto the stool next to me.

Despite my reluctance to appear vulnerable, a man unexpectedly approached me.

I could feel his warmth before I even saw him because he was sitting so close.

There was a heavy, taut silence between us.

I unintentionally found myself staring at him.

His dark brows and long lashes gave him a predatory appearance, and his eyes were green-gold.

My heart raced as his cheekbones were sharp and his lips curled into a half-smile.

Although I was not well acquainted with him, I felt an overwhelming desire to reach out and experience the softness of his lips. Everything happened in an instant.

Everything happened in an instant.

His voice was warm and low as he said, "Hey, pretty lady."

My breath caught in my throat, and my stomach churned.

I was still sitting, dizzy.

Trina, get yourself together.

Vodka is speaking here.

I made myself get up.

"Please don't leave just yet," he said.

"I was... I was going to go.

He extended his hands, palms up, as if he were trying to offer peace.

He questioned, "Am I too late to ask if you'd share a drink?"

I sank back onto the stool as his deep voice struck me like a freight train.

A wave of warmth swept through me, igniting every nerve.

The room seemed to tilt when he smiled.

"I..." I attempted to speak, but my words fell flat.

He removed his jacket and coat with a shrug, exposing his broad chest and the silky smoothness of his shirt.

Naturally, a stranger shouldn't have this much of an impact on me.

Every heartbeat, though, made me feel more alive than I had in weeks.

The breakup and the alcohol must be the cause.

---

The sound of running water awakened me.

I realised I wasn't in my apartment when I blinked against the morning light.

I lay on a massive bed with soft, strange sheets.

I sat up to find clothes strewn all over the floor.

Where was I? My heart pounded.

I held the duvet close to my chest.

I'm not wearing anything.

Horror blossomed in my belly as I contemplated the situation.

I backed away from the sight as I slowly peeled the sheets aside.

Additionally, the sheets felt soft between my legs.

The memories from last night swept over me with a forceful gust.

Drinks gave way to laughter, which in turn led to flirting, and eventually I found myself in a hotel room with a stranger.

I remembered him leaning over me, sliding inside in long, opulent strokes, and my cheeks burned.

I had never experienced anything like the confidence and skill with which he moved.

Now is not the time to reflect on how wonderful it was.

Grabbing my hair, I tried to bring myself back to the here and now.

It was my first time sleeping with a stranger.

Now, how can I confront him?

I jumped out of bed and tossed the sheets aside.

My clothes were piled up, so I yanked them on and went to get my bag.

I hurried over to the door.

The bathroom door clicked open as my hand was about to touch the handle.

My blood turned to ice.

He came out with his dark hair stuck to his forehead and dripping wet.

He was amazing.

He had wrapped a towel low around his waist, revealing his strong thighs and broad shoulders.

My heart pounded.

This is far superior to Marco Gutierrez.

I recalled his hands on me and the way he kissed me, causing my breath to quicken.

How did I let this happen?

I used trembling fingers to fan myself.

He leant against the doorframe and watched me with silent intensity.

His eyes were unreadable as they burned into me.

Reaching back, he released the towel's hook and let it drop.

Even though my chest tightened, I maintained eye contact.

He didn't look away.

Next, my attention was drawn to the leather wallet on the nightstand.

He picked it up and opened it.

The wallet contained a large amount of money, that was organized into tidy piles.

He believed me to be a paid companion.

I felt a surge of heat.

He wouldn't make fun of me.

I rummaged through my bag and found $200.

Before he could say anything, I threw it onto the bed.

I crossed my arms and spoke steadily.

"You're attractive, but you lack specific skills.

I'm not worth a fortune, just a little money.

I spoke quickly and sharply.

His jaw was clenched as he silently stared at me.

He said in a low voice, "Want to explain that?"

I took a step forward and gave him a shoulder pat.

Perhaps consider beginning with a discount next time.

You can raise your price after you learn how to truly satisfy someone.

I pivoted on my heel and walked confidently towards the door.

I heard his furious growl behind me.

He roared, "Fuck!"

Despite my flinch, I continued.

I rushed down the corridor and exploded into the hall.

I could hear my heart pounding so loudly.

I didn't turn around.

Now what was I going to do?