Scandal with the ruthless billionaire

RAELYNN

I woke up with a dull ache behind my eyes and the uncomfortable awareness that something was wrong.

I lay still for a moment, blinking slowly as my eyes adjusted to the soft lighting of the room. The sheets beneath my fingers felt too smooth and too cool. The faint scent of cologne in the air was definitely not mine.

The bed beneath me was too big, and the ceiling above me wasn’t familiar.

My room back at the apartment barely had space for a bedside table. This bed could fit three people comfortably. The ceiling above me was high and spotless, the soft glow from the lights casted faint shadows along the edges. Nothing about this place felt lived-in in the way a student apartment did. There were no scattered clothes, no mismatched furniture, no signs of chaos.

That was when it sank in.

I wasn’t in my apartment.

When I tried to move, a sharp wave of soreness hit between my thighs, forcing a quiet breath from my lips.

My heart skipped as I glanced down and realized I was covered by nothing but a bedsheet. Heat rushed to my face as memories from the night before crept in flashes of loud music, coloured lights, laughter.

The club.

Claire.

Claire’s laughter echoed in my head, bright and infectious as she dragged me toward the club entrance.

“Just one night, Rae,” she had begged, already buzzing with excitement. “We survived the midterms. We deserve this.”

I’d resisted at first, like I always did. Clubs weren’t my thing. They were always too crowded, too noisy, and full of strangers that pressed too close.

“I don’t do clubs,” I’d reminded her for the hundredth time.

“This one is different. High class. Secure,” she’d argued, tossing a black sequin dress at me before I could protest.

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, the memories returning in flashes rather than a full picture.

Flashing lights and the taste of alcohol on my tongue stronger than I expected.

A man standing near the bar, watching me. Not in a way that felt predatory, but deliberate. Calm. Like he wasn’t in a rush.

I remembered his eyes on me as I danced with Claire, the way my skin prickled under his gaze. When he finally approached, his voice had been low, smooth, carrying easily over the music.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

I remembered hesitating just for a second before nodding.

He smiled like he had all the time in the world. Slow. Easy. Then he held out his hand like he was asking me to dance instead of claiming space.

His hand was warm when my fingers slid into his. Steady, unrushed. Nothing about the way he touched me felt sharp or demanding.

I exhaled slowly and forced myself back into the present.

Whatever happened last night had already happened. I couldn’t undo it. All I could do now was leave before things got unbearably awkward.

I swallowed hard, pushing the memories away as I slowly sat up. The room was spacious and tastefully decorated, nothing like the tiny apartment Claire and I shared. Everything screamed money expensive furniture, thick curtains, marble floors so shiny they reflected the light.

I swung my legs over the bed and stood, steadying myself. Whoever I’d come home with clearly wasn’t struggling.

My clothes weren’t on the floor where I expected them to be. Instead, they were folded neatly on a chair near the window.

I gathered them quickly, making my way to a door I assumed was the bathroom.

The bathroom was just as impressive. After splashing water on my face and making sure I looked somewhat presentable, I decided it was best to leave before things became more awkward than they already were. A one-night stand was one thing. Facing the stranger afterward was another.

The house was eerily quiet as I made my way downstairs. It felt empty, almost too perfect, like no one actually lived there. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, illuminating polished floors and carefully arranged furniture.

Who was he?

And why did his house look like this?

I was halfway through the living room when a voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

I froze, turning slightly.

A man dressed neatly in a suit stood a few feet away from me, his expression polite.

“Mr. Ashford asked me to give this to you.”

He held out a cream colored envelope.

Confused, I took it and opened it. My breath caught when I saw what was inside.

A cheque.

Ten thousand dollars.

My hands trembled slightly as I stared at the amount, my chest tightening with disbelief and embarrassment all at once. I quickly folded the paper and returned it to him.

“I can’t accept this,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s been a mistake.”

The man didn’t look surprised. He simply nodded. “Very well. Shall I inform the driver that you’re ready to leave?”

“No,” I replied quickly. “That won’t be necessary. I can find my way out.”

“Are you certain, Miss?”

“Yes,” I said, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head. “My name is Arlo, should you need anything.”

I didn’t reply. I just turned and walked out, my heart pounding as the cool morning air hit my face.

I didn’t pause until I reached the sidewalk, drawing in a shaky breath.

I pulled out my phone. I had missed calls and messages from Claire.

I had no idea who Mr. Ashford was.

But I knew one thing for sure I didn’t want to find out.