The Billionaires Game

Lucy's POV

The first thing I felt was the silk.

It was soft and cold, and entirely strange to me. My bed at home was hard, strong and quite a lot like torture. All it took was to give me an awful body ache and feel miserable all day.

I cracked open my eyes to see a white ceiling with gold accents, washed in the soft light of morning. For a second, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My mouth was dry. My head pounded. My throat was as if I’d drunk sand.

This wasn’t my bed.

And that wasn’t my ceiling.

Where the hell was I?

I bolted upright, panting, sheet falling to my waist. My whole skin crawled with fright. My dress from the night before hung from a velvet chair, as if it had been ripped away in a rush.

One of his heels lay beneath the marble coffee table. The other was missing. It was as though a tornado had gone through wearing Louboutin.

I felt a presence and turned to the side and froze.

There was someone next to me.

His chest was heaving up and down. He was snoring softly.

A man. I had a man next to me.

I covered my mouth and stifled the sound. Waking him up was a bad idea.

Panic seared through my chest. It was very hot.

Slowly, I turned my head.

He was on his stomach as usual, one arm buried under the pillow, the covers reaching only up to his mid thighs.

He was good looking, had a fair haired tan and wide shoulders. I recognized him right away, even with the lower half of his face hidden and his eyes half-closed.

Shane Wilson.

The Shane Wilson.

Billionaire tech mogul. Media darling. Tabloid king. And right now—naked. In bed. With me.

Oh God.

I was feeling numb in the head and bones, my brain overcast with fog, and was panting for my life.

Fragments of last night struck me, like shards of broken glass in my brain. Melissa had dragged me out. “One evening, Lucy,” she had told me. “Just have fun and try to stay alive for one night.

I remembered a rooftop bar. Pink cocktails. Laughter that didn’t sound like my own. The music, humming through my ribcage. Flashing lights. “Oh my God, that’s Shane!” gasped Melissa.

And then….

Nothing. It was all a blur. I didn't know anything else.

Was I drugged? What the hell happened that night?

I glanced over at the slumbering Shane one more time and I knew that a whole lot of shit had gone wrong.

I was damned if I was going to look down. When I moved my leg. I felt sore down there.

We did it! We had…sex. Oh, crap!

My eyes nearly bugged out when I realized the truth.

A flash of a suite. His voice. Fingers in my hair. It was a kiss that tasted of whiskey and danger.

I glanced down at myself in his white shirt that was stuck to me. My skin prickled. My hands shook as I picked up my bag from the floor. My phone was dead. Of course it was.

Then I saw it.

A bruise on my wrist.

It was small and dim and round as a thumbprint. It didn’t appear dangerous, but it did feel as if I’d been pinched or bitten there.

I shivered so quickly that I caught my breath. I covered it with my hand.

“I’ve got to get the hell out of here as fast as I can,” I muttered.

Shane groaned. Naturally, I turned…to see him turn to his other side.

I didn’t remember the bruise. I didn’t recall walking out of the bar. I didn’t remember saying yes.

I eased myself out of bed, hoping he wouldn’t stir. When I stepped down, my foot was resting on the second heel.

“Dang it,” I whispered and prayed. Shane rolled over in his sleep, and I ceased.

I kept still and waited until he was snoring, and then I grabbed the chance and dashed into the bathroom.

The me staring back at myself in the mirror was horrifying.

My eyeliner was smudged, my lipstick was dull, my mascara was crusty in the creases of my eyes. My hair looked like I had just gone toe-to-toe with a tornado. Then there was me looking like I wasn’t someone who was in control. I seemed like a person who had snapped.

I washed my face vigorously with my hands trembling.

What did I do? Did I let this happen? Did I ask for it?

I hated the part of me that ever doubted it.

I pulled the dress on with fingers so tight, picked up my bag and stilettos and made for the door.

Behind me, the bed creaked.

“Lucy?” he called.

“Oh no,” I breathed.

It was his low, gravelly sound, unmistakable.

I was frozen with my hand still on the doorknob.

“Lucy, wait,” he said in a speedier, more conscious voice this time.

I didn’t respond.

Shit. He is awake. I am so screwed. Quick. Get the hell out of here.

That’s all I had in my head.

“Yo, hold on homey, hold on please,” he responded.

I wasn’t about to do that in a million years. I held the doorknob tighter.

“Can we just talk?” he asked.

I flung open the door and didn't say a word as I ran down the stairs like a banshee while he chased after me calling my name.

I got to the bottom, and Snap!

And then was struck with a wall of light.

Flashes. Dozens of them. Followed by shouts.

Then I spotted the cameras.

“Lucy Frank!”

“How does it feel to be Mr. Shane’s new girl? His new mistress?!”

I was utterly shocked. That wasn't the kind of question I expected to get so early in the morning and in front of….oh Jesus. The crowd.

“Over here, Lucy!” shouted another, and I heard the camera click again.

I was looking for a way out, but every direction I turned in was blocked. I was panting, and silently wishing that the ground would open and swallow me.

They were everywhere. A pack of paparazzi vultures surrounding the penthouse suite. I blinked, confused, caught in the chaos. The lenses clicked. People screamed my name.

What the hell…

Then behind me…

“Lucy!” I heard a familiar male voice call out to me.

I turned. With everyone present.

Shane stood with his shirt half buttoned and his hair messy in front of the elevator.

Jesus Christ! This man had just screwed me up twice. Why did he come after me?

Every camera turned.

“Quick, get a perfect shot!” One of the paparazzi yelled, and I heard a snap, and tons of others followed.

And they got the shot of the year. I didn't wait and ran out like a maniac. I kept running until I got into the middle of the road and screamed just as I heard a car's horn.

“Aaah!” I screamed and closed my eyes.