Bound to the Billionaire

Seattle was not kind that morning. The rain fell hard, soaking Camilla Hart’s coat no matter how tightly she wrapped it around herself. Her boots make a splash through the wet floors of the street, as she hurries down the crowded street. Clutching her bag to her chest as if it held her entire future. Which it did.

Her hair was damp and her blouse wet from the rain, and her eyes swollen from lack of sleep. She had stayed up all night going through her presentation again and again. Business management strategies. The words felt heavy but important. This presentation could open the door to a company she had only dreamed of working for. Her chance at a career. Her chance at money. Her chance to finally take care of her sick aunt.

Aunt Roseline. The thought of her aunt worried her so much. Roseline had raised her, took care of her, given up her own dreams for her. And now she was very sick. Hospital bills weighed on Camilla’s shoulders. She saved and saved, but it was never enough. Every dollar went to her aunt's medicine, every extra job to keeping the lights on . Today wasn’t just about her career. It was about saving the woman who had given her everything.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Anya, her best friend and roommate.

"Good luck bestie, you have got this, breathe "

Camilla smiled faintly, even with the sadness in her heart. Anya was her sunshine in human form, and without her, Camilla wouldn't believe,that she would have survived the nights she cried herself to sleep,alone.

She saw a coffee shop at the corner, she needed caffeine. She needed something hot. She pushed the door open and was welcomed by the rich smell of coffee and fresh bread. A wave of heat washed over her damp skin. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let herself breathe.

“Next!” the coffeeman called.

Camilla hurried forward, ordered coffee, and holding the paper cup as if it were life itself. She turned toward the door, already running through her notes in her mind.

And then it happened.

Her cup slammed into someone’s chest, spilling hot coffee on his expensive suit.

“Oh my God!” she gasped, eyes wide, horror rushing through her. “I’m so sorry.

The man stepped back, his eyes dropping to the brown stain spreading across his crisp white shirt and dark tailored suit. His jaw tightened. His voice was like ice.

“Don't you even look where you’re going?”

Camilla froze, shocked by his tone. She had expected annoyance, maybe anger—but not this sharp, cutting voice that pierced right through her.

“I said I’m so..sorry,” she stammered, pulling tissues from her bag and reaching toward him. “Let me ...”

“Don’t,” he snapped, stepping back as if her touch were poisonous. His eyes met hers, and Camilla froze again. His eyes were beautiful grey. Cold and piercing, as if they could see through her. His face was sharp, almost perfect in a cruel way— a sculptured cheekbones, a strong jaw, red cute lips. He looked like he belonged in a magazine ad that was about wealth and power.

And his arrogance.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, brushing at his shirt with disgust. “People like you shouldn’t even be allowed near a coffee shop,to avoid disasters like this.”

Her shock burned into rage.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice rising.

He raised his eyebrows, almost daring her. “Do you know how much my suit costs?”

Camilla’s lips parted, and a laugh escaped before she could stop it. Not from humor, but disbelief.

“You’re worried about your suit?” she said, her voice shaking with anger. “I have apologized . But sure-let’s all stop and cry for your poor, expensive suit.”

The cafe went silent. A few people glanced over, sensing the storm.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the suit. It’s the principle. Careless people cause problems. One mistake, and everything falls apart.”

Camilla furious. “You know what else is careless? Talking down on strangers like you’re the king of the universe. I bumped into you, I didn’t kill your dog. Get over it.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. For a moment, there was silence between them. Rain hammered against the windows outside. Then, slowly, he smirked. Not in amusement, but in challenge.

“You’ve got fire,” he said coolly. “But fire doesn’t fix mistakes.”

Camilla’s breath caught. That voice, that smirk. He was getting under her skin. And worse, it was working on her. She hated how her chest tightened, not just from anger but from something else. Something she can't put name to.

“Maybe not,” she shot back. “But at least fire keeps people warm. You? You’re just ice, you are very cold.”

His eyes flickered, something unreadable flashed for a moment before his face hardened again. Without a word, he turned and walked out of the café, tall and commanding even in the rain.

Camilla stood annoyed, her hands shaking, her heart pounding. Heat crawled up her neck, anger mixing with humiliation. Who was that man? Who reacted like that over spilled coffee?

So arrogant.

The coffeeman gave her a sympathetic look. “ Having a rough morning?”

“You could say that,” Camilla muttered, tossing the ruined tissues into the trash. She grabbed a napkin to dab at her damp blouse, though most of the coffee had spilled on him.

As she stepped back into the rain, she whispered, “Focus, Camilla. You will never see him again.”

But no matter how fast she walked, she couldn’t stop thinking of the image of those grey eyes of that stranger. That cold voice. That arrogant attitude.

She looked up at the tall building in the distance. The company headquarters, where she would give her presentation. She feels very nervous, because this was what she wants her future to be like, and she couldn’t afford any form of distractions.

Yet somehow, she felt the morning’s accident wasn’t an accident at all.