The Billionaire’s One Night Stand

Amara’s POV

The first thing that hit me wasn’t the light.

It was the pounding in my skull. A brutal, ugly throb—like someone had shoved a bass speaker into my head and cranked it to max.

I groaned and tried to roll over. The sheets didn’t feel like mine. Too soft. Too smooth. Not the scratchy cotton I usually fought with at night.

That thought alone snapped my eyes open.

And my stomach dropped.

This… wasn’t my room.

The ceiling above me gleamed ivory—clean, expensive. Not the cracked plaster of my tiny apartment.

My heart stuttered.

I sat up too fast. The room spun, carousel-style, until I had to clutch the sheet to steady myself.

And then I looked down.

My breath caught.

The sheet slipped against bare skin. My bare skin.

A strangled scream tore out of me before I could stop it.

“Good. You’re awake.”

The voice was deep. Male. Casual.

Like this was nothing.

I whipped my head toward the sound.

A man stood near the dresser, buttoning his jeans like he had all the time in the world. His shirt hung open, exposing muscles that looked carved out of stone. His hair was mussed, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass.

And that look on his face—smug. Like he owned the damn world.

Panic clawed at my throat. I clutched the sheets tighter.

“W-what happened?” My voice cracked, broken.

He glanced at me, eyes glinting. “What happened?” His lips curled into a smirk. “Don’t act so stupid. If anything, I should be saying you took advantage of me. The way you begged last night…” He gave a low laugh. “Impressive, really.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “No.” My throat burned. “Did you—” I swallowed hard. “Did you rape me?”

He slipped his shirt on slowly, deliberately. Like every second was under his control.

“Rape?” His tone was amused, like I’d told him a bad joke. “Sweetheart, that was no rape. That was you not wanting me to stop.”

Lies.

He was lying. He had to be.

But my memory—blurred. Fragments. A bathroom stall. My own sobs after losing my job. Selena’s voice, begging me to slow down. Another drink anyway. A stranger’s hand on my wrist. The blur of lights. A hallway.

And then—nothing.

“I don’t believe you,” I whispered. My fingers trembled against the sheet.

He moved closer, his cologne—sharp, expensive—wrapping around me like poison.

“Listen carefully.” His voice was soft. Too soft. Worse than shouting. “This was a one-night thing. That’s all it will ever be. And I’m sure you know who I am.”

My stomach twisted. His arrogance filled the room, suffocating.

“I don’t even know your name,” I whispered.

That made him laugh. Low. Dark. Mocking.

“You’ll remember soon enough.” His eyes hardened, the smirk fading into something colder. “Here’s the part you need to understand: if you breathe a word of this to anyone—especially the media—I will destroy you. Piece by piece. Until you regret ever opening your mouth.”

My knuckles whitened around the sheets.

“You… you don’t have to threaten me,” I whispered. “Why would I ever—”

“Not my problem.” His voice cut sharp. Final. “That’s my warning.”

And with that, he shrugged on his jacket, gave me one last unreadable look, and walked out.

The silence after was crushing.

For a long time, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.

Then the fragments returned—hazy, cruel. The bitter burn of alcohol. Selena’s worried face. My own stupid laugh as I ordered another drink. A stranger’s hand dragging me into shadows.

And then—darkness.

I choked back a sob.

With shaking hands, I scrambled into my clothes from the floor. Wrinkled skirt. Torn blouse. One shoe missing under the bed. I shoved them on anyway.

The hallway outside stretched forever. Every step echoed, hollow, until I stumbled into the sunlight. It hit me like a slap.

My fingers fumbled with my phone. I dialed the only person I could.

Selena picked up on the first ring.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Panic sliced through her voice.

“Please—” My throat closed. “Please don’t yell. Just… come get me. I’m outside The Elite Hotel.”

Silence. Then her tone softened. “I’m on my way. Ten minutes. Don’t move.”

Relief flooded me so hard I almost collapsed.

When her car pulled up, I slid inside without a word. She didn’t push. Didn’t ask. Just looked at me with wide, worried eyes.

I curled into the seat, hugging myself, fighting to keep it together.

The drive was quiet. Thank God.

But in the silence, his voice wouldn’t stop echoing. If you tell the media… I’ll ruin you.

Who did he think he was? Some arrogant billionaire? Why would I ever tell anyone? Why would I ever want people to know about this shame?

Hot tears slid down my cheeks.

By the time Selena pulled into her apartment’s lot, I’d already made a promise to myself.

I would bury this. Hide it so deep no one would ever find it.

And I would never see that man again.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Because that night had already tied me to him forever.