Hate to Love Your Heart (A Billionaire’s Revenge)

Venessa Hunt sat at the corner table in the crowded cafeteria, her fingers lightly tapping against the edge of her untouched tray. The clatter of trays, the murmur of voices, and the hum of overhead lights filled the space around her, but it all felt distant. She barely noticed the noise, too consumed by the icy silence across the table. Alex Graystone, the man sitting opposite her, looked nothing like a typical billionaire. He was a vision of cold precision, his tailored black suit cutting an almost impervious silhouette against the chaos of the cafeteria. His dark eyes locked onto hers, empty of warmth, calculating, as though she were just another business deal, a formality to be processed.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t flinch. His expression was one of total indifference, his gaze piercing yet vacant, like a predator watching a prey he wasn’t quite interested in but knew he could capture without effort. There was no admiration, no warmth. His features were flawless, handsome in a way that most men could only dream of, but there was nothing about him that made her feel seen, nothing that made him seem human. Just the cold, calculated stare of someone who valued results over people.

Venessa, by contrast, felt small under his gaze. Her long hair was tied back neatly into a simple ponytail, the way she always wore it, practical, out of the way. She wasn’t one to draw attention, not like the women who dressed in flashy designer clothes, trying to show off what they had. Her navy blue blouse was modest, covering her entirely, and tucked into a pair of unassuming gray slacks. She didn’t want to be noticed for her appearance.But now, sitting in front of Alex, she felt woefully inadequate in more ways than one. His perfection—his money, his power—seemed to dwarf her.

“Let’s make this quick,” Alex’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and indifferent, as he slid the contract across the table. His eyes never left her face.

Venessa swallowed hard, trying to ignore the cold twist of fear in her stomach. She had always been the pragmatic one, the one who put work first, who didn’t let emotions get in the way. But this—this was different. This wasn’t just business. This was her life, her step mother’s company, her future at stake. And it wasn’t just a cold transaction to her. It was the only option left, and it stung like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

“You’re asking me to marry you,” she said slowly, her voice steady despite the weight of the words.

Alex’s lips twitched, the faintest flicker of something—amusement, maybe, or boredom—crossing his face. “Exactly. Don’t mistake this for anything else. This is a business arrangement, Venessa. You get my help. I get the marriage. We both walk away with what we need. Nothing personal.”

She clenched her hands into fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms. There it was. The truth, laid bare in the starkest, most unfeeling terms. Alex wasn’t here for her. He wasn’t here to save her. He was here for a signature on a piece of paper and an obligation fulfilled. That was all.

Her step mother’s words echoed in her head: “You have no choice, darling. It’s the only way to save the company. You must do this. Think of the company .”

But what future was there if her happiness wasn’t a part of the equation?

Her eyes flicked to the contract in front of her. It was a thick, imposing thing, its cold paper mocking her with every word. “I’m not signing this right now,” she said, her voice firm, though the tremor of uncertainty was still there. “I need to go through it. I need to read everything carefully before I make a decision.”

Alex didn’t blink. His face was impassive as ever. He regarded her as though she were a small, inconsequential detail in a much larger plan. “Take all the time you need,” he said, his tone barely changing. “But don’t waste too much of it. I’m not here to wait around.”

Venessa’s heart clenched at his words, but she forced herself to remain calm, to control the panic threatening to rise in her chest. She could feel the weight of his gaze as if it were a physical force pressing against her, and yet, she fought against it. She wasn’t going to rush into something as life-altering as this without considering every possibility.

“I’ll get back to you,” she said, standing slowly, her fingers curling around her bag. “I need time to think.”

Alex didn’t respond. He didn’t offer a reassuring word or a hint of understanding. Instead, he merely nodded once, his expression unchanged. “Of course. You’ll have your time. But remember, Venessa, time isn’t on your side.”

With that, Venessa turned and walked away, her footsteps quick and purposeful, though her mind was anything but calm. Her stepmother’s company was on the verge of collapse, and she had only one lifeline. Alex Graystone