One Night Stand With Her Billionaire CEO

Emmaline Facer never planned to steal a boy's car—especially not the morning after losing her virginity to him in a one-night stand.

But as she stood in her dorm room at 6:45 a.m., clutching a stranger's car key and her bag stuffed with his money, she finally realized the enormity of what she'd done. There was no doubt he would come looking for her.

Emma dropped her bag onto the bed and hurried over to Phoebe's bed. She gently shook her friend, who was still curled under her blanket, asleep and exhausted from the graduation party.

"Phoebe, wake up," she whispered, her voice tight with worry.

Phoebe groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow, then turned her face to the other side. Her voice was thick with sleep. "Who is that?" she mumbled, squinting until her eyes finally landed on Emma. "Emma?" she called slowly, still half asleep.

"Yes, it's me," Emma said, gripping Phoebe's hand and helping her up.

"Oh my God, where were you last night? I looked everywhere! I even called you like fifteen times." Relief and annoyance warred in Phoebe's tone—the sound of a friend who'd been panicking all night. She had already made up her mind that if Emma didn't reach out by morning, she was going to the police to report her friend missing. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Wait—did you meet Scott?"

Emma's brows furrowed. "How do you expect me to meet Scott when I don't even know what he looks like? You were supposed to take me to him."

Phoebe rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Right... I didn't see you, so I thought you left. I ended up drinking a little more with Jones and his friends, and he drove me home. Scott didn't reach out to me either, so I thought he might have met you." She squinted at Emma. "Where did you even go last night?" She glanced at the clock beside the bed. "6:48 a.m.? Emma, this is too early for you to wake me up on a Saturday."

Emma flopped onto her bed and let out a long, shuddering sigh. Phoebe leaned in, scanning her face, immediately sensing something was off.

"Oh my God. I know that look. What did you get yourself into this time?"

Emma's hands twisted in her lap. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "They're after me. I think I'm going to end up in jail." Her voice shook.

Phoebe's eyes widened. "Jail? Did you hit someone at the party last night?"

Emma shook her head rapidly and ran a hand through her hair, tugging at a loose strand in frustration. "No. No, it's worse." She bit her lip. "I stole something... and I feel like he's going to come after me and destroy my life, and..."

Phoebe froze mid-motion, her forked expression of shock made Emma's stomach twist. "Stole? From who? Who did you even meet last night?"

Emma's throat tightened. She hesitated at first but Phoebe was the only one who could understand her. The only one who could help her. She remembered a few things from the night before. "I met this guy... we talked, had some drinks, and then..."

"And then what?" Phoebe leaned forward, impatience knitting her brow. When Emma stayed silent, her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh my God. You slept with him, didn't you?"

Emma swallowed hard and didn't answer.

"Wow." Phoebe's hands shot up with a loud clap, though Emma waved frantically to hush her. The walls were thin, and it was still early. "Who would have thought the Virgin Mary would lose her virginity to a total stranger?"

Emma scowled and crossed her arms defensively. "You wanted to give me to a total stranger too."

"Well, that was different. I knew Scott. People knew Scott Jones. You didn't know this man you slept with."

Emma's knees felt weak as she sank back against her bedframe. "Come on, Phoebe." Her voice trembled, and she rubbed her arms to ward off the shivers. "I never thought something like this would happen."

"Of course you did," Phoebe said, leaning back. "I know you. When you want something, you always go for it. Now talk! Who did you steal from?"Phoebe swung her legs off the bed, tiptoed to the cabinet, and rifled through a pack of cigarettes. She pulled one out, struck it, and inhaled deeply. The smoke curled around her and the burn in her throat calmed her. She extended it toward Emma. "Want one?"

Emma shook her head vigorously. "No."

"It will calm you. I bet you need it more than I do."

"No. I don't smoke, and you know it." She rubbed her hands together, fingers tapping nervously on her knees.

Phoebe dragged a chair close and plopped down with a soft thud. She raised the cigarette to her lips. "Okay. Start talking."

Emma inhaled, her chest was tight. "Honestly... he didn't look rich at all last night. I remember he was dressed so simple."

Phoebe wrinkled her nose and leaned back in the chair. "Ugh, I hate guys like that. They pretend to be broke so girls won't bother them." She drew another puff, then tilted her head. "But is he cute?"

Emma's sharp gaze met hers. "That is not the point."

"Oh, but it is," Phoebe pressed, shrugging. "Anyway, if you're scared about jail, maybe you should've thought about that before stealing. What did you take that's making you panic? If he's rich, he might not even notice."

Emma's fingers clutched the bag strap tightly. "He will notice, alright."

"Is it that bad?"

Emma exhaled shakily. "I didn't count it, but there was a lot of money. He stuffed everything in his wallet, and I just... I don't even know how my—"

"Enough! Stop rambling. Just show me the money."

Emma dug into her bag with trembling hands, pulling out neatly stacked bundles of $100 bills. Phoebe's eyes widened as she picked them up.

"Wow... Em, you're in serious trouble," she murmured, staring at the money now in her hand.

"That's not all."

Phoebe's head snapped toward her. "You are joking, right?"

Emma shook her head. She dug back in the bag and took out a car key. "I... I also took his car," she said slowly, letting the words sink.