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The Billionaire's Heartbeat
The Billionaire's Heartbeat
Penulis: MIMI JAY

CHAPTER ONE

Penulis: MIMI JAY
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2023-04-25 17:00:01

MIA’S POV

I stirred, blinking against the dim light as my head pounded with a terrible headache. I squinted around the room, my heart skipping a beat as confusion took hold.

Where was I? How did I get here?

Then, I noticed the figure lying beside me.

Completely naked.

A cold chill ran through me. I gasped in horror, clutching the blanket to my chest as I realized that I was naked too. I tried to sit up quickly, but a sharp pain stabbed the back of my head, forcing me to groan and press my palms against my temples. The sound startled me, and I muffled it quickly, squeezing my eyes shut and silently praying that he wouldn’t wake.

To my relief, he stirred briefly, then continued sleeping.

I took a moment to look at him again. He was sound asleep, seemingly unaware of my presence. Without another second to waste, I quietly got down from the bed and reached for my clothes scattered on the floor. My hands trembled as I got dressed in silence and slipped out of the room as quickly as I could, praying that no one would see me.

I got home feeling drained and sore. I collapsed onto my bed, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. My mind was blank, like someone had wiped everything away, leaving only shadows. But then fragments returned that made my stomach turn.

I remembered meeting with the manager of a modeling agency I had applied for a job. He said he got the job for me and told me to meet him at a lounge. I had my suspicions but he said it was urgent and there was no time for emails or contracts. And that if I didn’t show up, someone else would.

Naively, I had trusted him.

He ordered drinks without asking, claiming it was to celebrate the contract. I assumed it was just a soft drink, and I drank. Within minutes, the edges of my vision blurred. My limbs felt heavy, my tongue thick and sluggish. I tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but the words refused to come.

And then… darkness had claimed me.

Another memory surfaced, making me shudder in disgust.

“Please, sir, don’t do this to me. Who are you? Let me go.”

I remembered begging with tears in my eyes as I struggled against his hold, his palm groping my breast.

But he was far too strong.

“No. No. No… Get the hell away from me! ” I screamed, “ Let me go… Somebody please help…”

The words died in my mouth when his lips crashed onto mine. I thrashed beneath him, desperate and powerless as he tore my clothes and underwear apart. Then came the sharpest, most violating pain I had ever felt in my whole life. I screamed as he forced himself into me again and again.

No one came to help.

My virginity, something I had guarded fiercely, was taken in the most degrading way imaginable. I cried and screamed until there were no more tears left. I curled into a ball on my bed and eventually drifted off to sleep, drained from the pain.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, the nightmares came.

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. My heart was racing so loudly that I could hear it thudding in my ears. I gasped for air, trying to calm myself. There was no way I could sleep again.

I got up and went into the bathroom, checking myself in the mirror. My face was puffy, my eyes swollen, and I looked like a shadow of myself. I decided to take a bath, hoping the water could cleanse not just my body but the shame and fear clinging to it.

I stepped under the cold shower and scrubbed my skin harshly. I shampooed and conditioned my hair with my usual strawberry-scented products. Even the sweet scent couldn’t comfort me. When I finished, I dressed in casual clothes, though I had nowhere to go, and collapsed onto my bed.

When I checked the time, it was already 5:00 p.m.

The day had passed without me even noticing. Not feeling hungry, I grabbed the bottle of wine I had bought to celebrate if I got the modeling job. I didn’t bother with a glass. I just drank straight from the bottle. By the time it was empty, I was drunk and disoriented.

I stared blankly at the wall, thinking about how everything had changed. My life had turned upside down. I missed my parents. Tears welled up again.

“I miss you, Mum. I miss you, Dad. I wish you were here to tell me everything will be okay.”

Talking to myself was the only comfort I had left. I wished emotions came with an off-switch. I would turn off the pain in a heartbeat.

Sleep came eventually, and when it did, it consumed me entirely.

I woke up the next morning with a pounding hangover. I realized I had slept through the entire evening and night. I got up slowly, took some painkillers, showered and brushed my teeth. Then I got dressed and laid back on the bed.

This routine became my life for the entire week.

I barely left the house, ate little, and spoke even less. Alcohol became a dull companion, masking the memories only temporarily. Nightmares returned relentlessly, dragging me down further each night.

Finally, I reached out to my Aunt in Los Angeles, unable to endure the cycle any longer. She arranged for me to go there, offering a fresh start. I packed what little I could, leaving behind the remnants of my old life.

Arriving in Los Angeles, I knew I had to pick myself up somehow. Modeling was still my dream, but I needed stability first. I had strong credentials, so I started applying for jobs. I didn’t care what position it was, I just needed something to keep me going.

I finally got a call from one of the companies I had applied to. A personal Assistant position at BLACK INDUSTRIES, a respected company with excellent pay and benefits.

I was overjoyed, even my aunt shared my excitement and encouraged me.

I told myself this job would be the fresh start I needed. It could be a stepping stone toward rebuilding my dream.

I woke up early, dressed neatly, and even skipped breakfast out of excitement. I headed to work with a hopeful heart. Stepping inside BLACK INDUSTRIES felt like walking into a dream. I approached the receptionist, my heart racing just a little.

I straightened my shoulders and said clearly, “Hi, I applied for the personal assistant position. I received an email yesterday confirming I was selected and should come in today.”

She nodded and tapped a few keys on her computer, then picked up the internal phone and spoke briefly.

“Take the elevator to the ninth floor,” she instructed, “Ask for Ms. Black. She’ll take it from there.”

I nodded, my chest tightening, and stepped into the elevator. The ride felt impossibly slow. When the doors opened, the 9th floor revealed a quiet, sleek space lined with glass offices. Minimal chatter floated in the air, every sound sharp in the hushed surroundings. I asked a lady for directions to Ms. Black, and she pointed toward a large glass office at the far end.

I walked up and gently knocked.

“Come in,” a calm voice called.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. A young woman sat confidently behind a polished desk, her posture perfect. “Mia Anderson, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Welcome,” she said, “I’m Audrey Black. I’ll take you to your desk now and introduce you to your boss.”

We walked to the elevator together, and she pressed the button for the 10th floor. The doors closed, and the lift glided upward. I took in my surroundings as we ascended, feeling a mix of anticipation and awe.

When we stepped out, the 10th floor was vast and immaculate. Everything gleamed under soft lighting, the kind of space that whispered power without saying a word. She led me first to my office, a small but elegant space with glass walls that offered a clear view of the rest of the floor.

“This will be your workspace,” she said.

It was beautifully furnished, cozy yet professional.

Then Ms. Black gestured toward the far end of the floor.

“Now, let’s meet your boss,” she said.

Then we walked toward the CEO’s office.

As we stepped inside, I was struck by the luxury. The decor was tasteful, masculine, and expensive. Everything in that room probably cost more than everything I owned combined. The man sitting at the desk had his head down, reviewing some documents.

“Hello, brother,” Audrey said casually as she walked over.

Wait, Brother?

Suddenly, it hit me. Her last name was Black. So she was related to him.

The man raised his head.

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat. My knees buckled, and before I could fall, he was beside me, catching me with strong hands around my waist.

I yanked myself away as quickly as I could, trembling with shock and rage.

“YOU?!!” I screamed, the word slicing through the air like glass.

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