The Billionaire's Hidden Obsession

Clara’s POV

The faint hum of traffic drifted through the half-open window, mixing with the scent of Zara’s vanilla body spray. Clothes were scattered across the bed, heels lined up by the mirror, and soft music played from her phone. I stood by the wall, watching her get ready like she had the whole world figured out.

“Zara, do you think I need clubbing tonight?” I asked, folding my arms. “I need to settle my head and prepare for tomorrow. Go alone, you this lady.”

Zara turned sharply, one hand on her hip, the other holding a makeup brush like a weapon. “Clubbing? Babe, you need healing. You’ve been stressing over that job interview all week. You look like your soul needs music and bad decisions.”

I rolled my eyes. “Bad decisions don’t pay rent.”

She laughed, tossing her long braids over her shoulder. “Neither does worrying, Clara. You’ve been glued to that laptop for days, searching for jobs that don’t even reply. Tonight is your night to breathe.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing. Our apartment was small—two bedrooms, one couch that squeaked, and windows that let in all the city noise but none of the calm. Zara was right about one thing: I hadn’t done anything fun in months.

Still… “I can’t,” I muttered. “I’ve got an interview at Thorne Enterprises by eight in the morning. You know how much this means to me. I need sleep.”

Zara groaned dramatically, throwing herself onto my bed. “You sound like an old woman. Come on, Clara. We’ll just go for a bit—one drink, one dance. You might even find inspiration for your interview tomorrow.”

I gave her a side-eye. “Inspiration? At a nightclub?”

She grinned. “Inspiration or a rich man—same difference.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” she said, pointing at me with her makeup brush. “This is New York—the city of miracles, money, and mistakes. You never know who you’ll meet.”

“I already know who I’ll meet,” I said. “My future boss. Elias Thorne—billionaire CEO, known playboy, and rumor has it he fired his assistant because she brought him coffee that was ‘too sweet.’”

Zara gasped in mock horror. “How dare she make coffee with feelings!”

I chuckled despite myself. She always knew how to make me laugh when I needed it most.

“Fine,” I said finally. “But I’m not wearing anything too revealing. I’ll sit, sip, and leave before midnight.”

Zara squealed and jumped up like she’d just won the lottery. “Yes! I knew you had a fun bone somewhere under all that responsibility!”

“I’m regretting this already,” I said, shaking my head as she dragged me toward her closet.

Her room was a chaos of clothes, perfume bottles, and glowing fairy lights. Zara was already shimmying into a silver dress that left little to the imagination.

“What about this?” she said, holding up a soft red dress. “Simple but hot. It’ll make people look twice—and not just because of your body, babe, but because you’ve got that innocent, I-don’t-know-I’m-sexy vibe.”

“Zara!” I said, blushing.

“What? It’s true. Men love that. You’re like a quiet storm.”

I grabbed the dress from her, trying to hide my smile. “If I wear this and trip in those heels again, I’ll haunt you.”

She winked. “Then at least you’ll die fine.”

By the time we were done getting ready, my nerves had relaxed just a little. I looked at myself in the mirror—red dress, light makeup, hair loose around my shoulders. I didn’t look rich or glamorous like Zara, but I looked… alive.

Zara came up beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Look at you. If Elias Thorne sees you tomorrow, he won’t know what hit him.”

“Please, he probably won’t even notice me.”

“Girl, if he doesn’t, he’s blind.”

We both burst out laughing.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser. She glanced at it and grinned. “It’s Nate. He’s already at the club.”

“Your boyfriend?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. He said he’s bringing some of his business friends tonight—the rich kind, not the broke ones who ask you to split the bill.”

“Zara!”

“What? I’m just saying.” She slipped her phone into her tiny purse and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go before I change my mind about letting you wear that boring jacket.”

The cold night air hit my skin the moment we stepped outside. New York had a way of feeling alive—cars honking, people laughing, lights flashing from every corner. Zara walked like she owned the sidewalk, heels clicking, confidence pouring out of her like perfume. I, on the other hand, was just trying not to freeze.

“This is such a bad idea,” I muttered.

Zara laughed. “Relax! You’ll thank me when someone handsome offers to buy you a drink.”

“I’ll thank you when I wake up early and still make it to my interview.”

She looped her arm through mine, smiling. “Babe, life is about balance. One night of fun, one morning of hustle. You can do both.”

We stopped in front of Club Eleven—tall glass doors, a velvet rope, and a long line of people waiting to get in. Zara waved at the bouncer like they were old friends.

He nodded and unclipped the rope. “Hey, Zara. Nate’s inside already.”

“Thanks, Mike!” she said with a wink, dragging me through before I could even blink.

The moment we stepped in, the music swallowed us. The bass vibrated through the floor, lights flashed in every color, and laughter mixed with the hum of conversation. The air smelled like perfume, whiskey, and something expensive.

Zara leaned close to my ear. “Welcome to paradise, babe.”

I smiled awkwardly, glancing around. There were people everywhere—some dancing like the night was theirs, others leaning close in dark corners, whispering things I couldn’t hear.

We squeezed through the crowd until we reached a corner table where a tall guy in a black shirt was sitting. Zara’s face lit up instantly.

“Nate!” she squealed.

He stood, grinning. “There you are.” He kissed her cheek, his hand lingering at her waist.

I looked away politely, pretending to check my phone.

“Clara, this is Nate,” Zara said, turning to me. “Nate, meet my best friend, Clara—the one who doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Nate laughed. “Oh, we’ll fix that tonight.”

“Please don’t,” I said quickly, but they both laughed like I was joking.

He waved to a waiter. “What do you ladies want to drink?”

Zara didn’t hesitate. “Tequila for me. Clara will have—”

“Just soda,” I cut in.

She gave me a look. “Boring.”

“I call it smart,” I said, taking a seat.

Nate’s friends joined us—two guys in expensive suits and wristwatches that probably cost more than our rent. They were polite enough but clearly more interested in Zara and her glow than me. Which was fine. I was happy just people-watching.

The club was alive. Couples danced close, bodies brushing, music wrapping around them like smoke. I watched as Zara leaned into Nate, whispering something that made him smile. She belonged here—bold, glowing, magnetic.

I, on the other hand, sat quietly, sipping my soda, pretending not to feel out of place.

That’s when I noticed him.

He was across the room, near the VIP section—tall, broad-shouldered, in a black suit that fit too perfectly to be random. He wasn’t laughing or talking like the others. He just stood there, calm, watching the room with an unreadable expression.

Something about him pulled at my attention. His face was sharp, his eyes distant, and his presence... commanding.

For a second, our eyes met. Just one second.

It felt like a spark—quick but undeniable. I looked away immediately, heart skipping a beat.

Who was that?

Before I could think more, Zara nudged me. “Earth to Clara. What are you staring at?”

I shook my head quickly. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

She grinned. “Sure, thinking. You were totally checking someone out.”

“I wasn’t!” I said too quickly, which only made her laugh harder.

“You need to loosen up,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the dance floor. “Come on—one dance. No one’s judging.”

“Zara—”

“No excuses!”

The music changed—louder, deeper. People moved like they were chasing freedom, and somehow, I found myself in the middle of it all. Zara was dancing beside me, laughing, her arms in the air.

At first, I just swayed awkwardly, but then the rhythm caught me. For the first time in a long while, I stopped thinking. My body moved on its own—small, gentle movements, but real.

Zara shouted over the music, “See? You’re doing it!”

I laughed. “Barely!”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re glowing, girl!”

I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she was right. Maybe I did need this—just a few hours to forget everything waiting for me tomorrow.

Still, every time the lights flashed across the room, I found myself glancing toward the VIP section. The mysterious man was gone.

I shook off the strange feeling and kept dancing.

After a while, Zara and Nate disappeared somewhere near the back. I stayed on the dance floor a few more minutes before exhaustion hit me. My feet ached, and I remembered why I didn’t do nights like this often.

I grabbed my purse and found Zara’s phone buzzing on the table. She’d left it behind—typical.

I typed a quick text: Heading home. Don’t stay out too late.

Then I waved at Nate’s friends, who barely noticed me leaving. Outside, the air was cool, the city still awake.

I pulled my coat tighter and started walking toward the main road. My heels clicked softly against the pavement, each sound echoing in the quiet.

When I finally caught a cab, I leaned my head against the window and sighed.

Maybe Zara was right—I needed to live a little. But fun didn’t pay rent.

Tomorrow was all that mattered.

I didn’t know that the man I saw across the club—the

one in the black suit with those cold, serious eyes—would be my new boss the next morning.