The Billionaire's Craving

Gabriella’s POV

"Oh no, no, no… not my car!" I half yelled,

placing my hands on my hips.

"I was going to make a payment today! You can’t just take it!" I pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Ms Brooks, but your loan has been pending for months. We have no choice," the grumpy loan officer said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. "Besides, we gave you plenty of warnings."

I scoffed. Of course. I knew I’d eventually pay it. Covering my grandma’s medical bills lately had been a nightmare, but it wasn’t like anyone wanted to hear that.

I stood on the pavement, pulse rising as I watched my car being towed away, the loan officer scribbling something on his note pad.

...

A loud beeping sound from my phone snapped me back to reality.

"Oh shit! I’m late for work!" I shoved the phone into my pocket and flagged down a taxi.

"Drive faster, please! I’m—late… very late!" I muttered, fidgeting, biting my nails.

I looked out the window, the morning sun hit my face, I took my phone from my purse and dialed Ben's number-my fiancé, but my calls went straight to voicemail.

I felt a tight knot in my chest, this was the sixth time he was not picking up. His recent behavior had me overthinking.

The taxi screeched to a stop outside Jewels Coffee Shop. I paid in a hurry and bolted inside.

"You're late!" Clara barked, glaring as soon as she spotted me.

"It’s just a minute! Come on!" I whined. Catching my breath.

"Don’t start. This is the fourth time this week! Keep it up, and you’re fired!" she snapped.

I rolled my eyes, hung my coat in the little drawer behind the counter, and muttered under my breath, "Sick bitch."

"What was that?" Her gaze sharpened.

"I said… nothing." I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding as I faked a smile

....

The morning shift dragged me badly. Every customer seemed grumpier than the last, but I powered through. Bills didn’t pay themselves.

Finally, after the last customer that morning , I smoothed my apron and let out a tired sigh.

Then the door swung open.

A tall, broad-shouldered man walked in, wearing a suit that hugged his body in all the right places. His sharp jaw and high cheekbones made his face impossible to ignore, and his piercing blue eyes looked straight through you, bold and magnetic. Short, neat hair added to his clean-cut, dangerously handsome look. Every step he took was smooth and confident, like he owned the world. Even from across the room, he made hearts race. Behind him, a young girl, barely seventeen, trailed, aware of the heat his presence brought.

"Trust me, the coffee here is nice," the teen said. "My friend Molly recommended it."

"You know I hate these places. But since you insist," the man’s voice rumbled deep, sexy, the kind that made my stomach do flips. Oh, damn, that was wet-my-panties attractive.

A breeze brushed in, sending goosebumps on my skin. when he lifted his head and glanced at me, the heavens revealed his striking blue eyes. We locked eyes for a fraction of a second, and I nearly drooled before reality snapped back.

He approached the counter.

"You—the ugly one with glasses—make my sister’s coffee. It should be perfect," he said lazily. His voice was low, husky, commanding… But his attitude made me feel like punching him right on his handsome face.

My blood boiled, but I had to behave. I needed that paycheck.

I plastered a fake smile that usually kept me from trouble, trying to steady my shaking hands. “Okay,” I muttered, grabbing a cup and carefully pouring the coffee, following the teen’s convoluted instructions. My entire body felt tense, like every muscle was ready to snap. My inner eye-roll was practically a full-body workout.

I extended the cup toward her hand—and in a split second, it slipped. Hot coffee splashed over her fingers.

“Ouch!” she yelped, jerking back instinctively.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” I gasped, moving toward her to help, my voice trembling. But before I could touch her, a hand clamped down on mine—iron grip, painfully tight.

“You’re careless! Look what you’ve done!” His voice was low, commanding, a growl that made my knees weaken.

“Hey! Let go! I didn’t mean to!” I yelped, tugging at my hand, but he didn’t budge.

“Where’s your manager?!” His tone sliced through the room. I flinched involuntarily, my chest tightening.

Almost immediately, Clara stormed in, her face a storm of fury. Her eyes were blazing. She didn’t ask what had happened—didn’t even glance at the teen—but she planted herself firmly by his side, almost reverently, like he was some untouchable god.

Before I could react, her hand slapped across my cheek, hard. Pain shot through my face, and a sharp taste of blood hit my tongue. My nose burned.

“Do you have any idea who he is?!” Clara’s nostrils flared, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you burn his sister!”

I blinked back tears, my voice barely a whisper. “It… it was an accident!”

“An accident?!” Clara scoffed, leaning forward. “You are fired!”

Cold shivers raced down my spine, while heat flushed my cheeks. My mind spun frantically to my grandma—how would I explain losing my job when I couldn’t even pay her hospital bills? I needed this paycheck. For her.

“Please…” I croaked, my voice quivering. “At least give me my paycheck. I need it.”

“You don’t deserve a dime,” the man said lazily, his voice low, dark, and dangerously smooth, like a threat wrapped in silk.

Clara snorted, her eyes blazing. “You should have thought about it before you burnt his sister's hand. Get out. Now!”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight, i barely managed to make it outside, the door slamming behind me like the final verdict on my dignity.

"You have done well Madam Clara," The man said, his voice audible through the thin glass door.