Chapter 4

Joan’s POV

My lips crashed into his a second time, frantic and entirely clumsy. I didn't know what I was doing, but I was driven by a feral, suffocating need to escape my own reality. 

I wanted to drown out the memory of Rita’s lashing words, Isobel’s stinging slaps, and the looming threat of the morning. For a heartbeat, the stranger went completely rigid beneath me, his hands freezing on my wrists.

Then, the air inside the tight confines of the sports car completely shifted.

A low, primal growl rumbled deep within his chest. Before I could even blink, his right hand shot to the back of my neck, his long fingers tangling into my hair. 

He didn't push me away this time. Instead, he deepened the kiss with a sudden, bruising possessiveness that made my head spin. He tasted like rain and dangerous, unyielding power, capturing my lips and taking my breath until my lungs burned.

For a terrifying second, I forgot about the money. I forgot about the cold. I forgot everything as his heat completely consumed me.

But just as my mind began to go entirely blank, he suddenly tore his mouth away, gasping for air.

With a swift, unyielding movement, he pinned both of my wrists against the leather seat above my head. His silver-gray eyes were practically glowing in the dim dashboard light, his pupils blown so wide, staring at me with so much desire. His chest heaved against mine, a muscle ticking violently in his chiseled jaw.

"Enough," he breathed, his voice dropping to a harsh, warning rasp. "Hey, little Kitty. I won't take advantage of a girl who's bleeding in the passenger seat of my car."

"Please," I choked out, a fresh tear cutting through the dried blood on my cheek. I tried to pull my hands free, but his grip was like iron handcuffs. "You don't understand. I need the money. I have to pay her... I have to pay them..."

"I told you I would give you the money," he snapped gently, his gaze dropping to my trembling, swollen lips before snapping back to my eyes. "But I buy assets, Joan. I don't buy people. Now sit back and buckle up before I lose what little patience I have left."

He released my wrists. The sudden loss of his touch left me feeling colder than before. I slid back into my seat, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs, watching him as he smoothed down his dark hair and grabbed his iPhone.

His fingers flew across the screen, the bright light illuminating the harsh, striking angles of his face.

"What is your account number?" he demanded, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

My voice shook as I whispered the digits of my student bank account, the numbers sounding pathetic in the quiet luxury of his car. He typed them in without a word. A second later, the sleek device in his hand chimed softly, signaling a completed transaction.

Bzzzt.

The phone in my apron pocket vibrated. With trembling fingers, I pulled it out. My breath hitched in my throat as I stared at the glowing notification on the screen.

Deposit Confirmed: $100,000.00

Available Balance: $100,005.00

I stared at the numbers, my vision blurring completely. Just like that, the crushing weight that had been suffocating me since I left the house was gone. The rent was covered. Rita wouldn't be able to throw me onto the streets tomorrow. But looking at the screen only made a fresh wave of panic hit me.

"Why?" I whispered, looking over at him in total bewilderment. "Why would you do this for a stranger? I ruined a three-million-dollar bottle of champagne, and now you just... You just gave me a hundred thousand dollars? How am I supposed to pay you back? I don't even know your name."

The stranger shifted the car into drive, his long fingers gripping the steering wheel as the powerful engine roared to life, cutting through the heavy December snow. He didn't look at me as he pulled out into the slick, empty streets of the city.

"You don't need to know my name," he said, his voice entirely cool, the dangerous storm from moments ago completely tucked away. "And you don't need to worry about paying me back right now."

He didn't give me a chance to argue. The powerful sports car glided through the snow-covered streets, the silence between us heavy with a tension I couldn't describe. He drove with an eerie familiarity through my neighborhood, finally pulling up to the curb a stone’s throw away from my apartment building.

"Go home, little Kitty," he murmured, his silver-gray eyes locked onto the road ahead, refusing to look at me again. "Pay your debts."

I stepped out into the freezing night, his heavy, expensive suit jacket still draped over my shoulders. Before I could even mutter a proper thank you, the car roared to life and disappeared into the white shroud of the December storm, leaving me alone with a vibrating phone and a mind full of questions.

By the time I quietly unlocked the front door of our cramped apartment, the dashboard clock of my mind told me it was already a few minutes past four in the morning. I braced myself for Rita’s wrath, clutching my phone tightly to show her the proof of the hundred thousand dollars.

But the scene waiting for me wasn't what I expected.

The hallway was cluttered with expensive luggage. Inside the living room, Rita was standing by a massive designer suitcase, meticulously folding a silk dress. She wasn’t wearing her usual bitter scowl; instead, her face was alive with a triumphant, wicked glow.

She snapped her head toward me, her cold eyes scanning my disheveled hair, the bandage on my face, and the oversized men's suit jacket I was wearing. A sharp, mocking laugh left her lips.

“Look at you. Pathetic,” Rita hissed, tossing a velvet coat into her bag. “I’m off to my man’s house, Joan. You are completely useless. I gave you until dawn to bring me the money, but I see you’ve just been out making a fool of yourself.”

“I have the money, Mom,” I said, my voice trembling but firm as I held up the phone screen, showing the massive deposit. “The rent is covered. The debts are paid.”

Rita didn't look relieved. She didn't even look surprised. She barely glanced at the screen before letting out a dismissive scoff.

“Keep it,” she said smoothly, zipping up her suitcase with a loud, definitive snap. “I don't need your cheap change anymore. The man I’m moving in with has more wealth in his pinky finger than you could earn in three lifetimes. I’m getting married, Joan. Which means you are finally moving out of this dump and into his estate with me.”

My heart stopped. “Married? To whom?”

Rita straightened her crisp collar, a venomous smirk spreading across her face. “Don’t question me. You should be grateful I found a solution. On Monday, you’ll be introducing yourself to your new stepbrothers.”

As Rita packed the last of her things, I stood frozen in the hallway, my fingers gripping the lapels of the stranger's suit jacket. I breathed in the fading scent of woodsmoke and rain, wondering how I was going to survive Monday morning.

What I didn't know, and I couldn't possibly guess, was that the terrifying, devastatingly handsome stranger who had just saved my life and held me in his car wasn't just a random billionaire. Because I met the greatest shock of my life on Monday morning, when my entire world was going to crumble.