The Billioner's Hidden Desires

"Our engagement is off, Amber. I refuse to marry a woman as destitute as you," Jeff said, his words cutting like a blade.

The handsome man standing before Amber spoke with an unsettling ease, as if dropping a heavy burden. His expression remained flat, utterly indifferent to the mocking stares of the guests surrounding them at his birthday gala.

"But Jeff..." Amber whispered, struggling to hold back the tears stinging her eyes.

"No 'buts,' Amber. My decision is final, and my family fully supports it. Tell me, what do you even have left to be proud of? Your family's company is bankrupt; you’re penniless. Were you planning to use me to pay off your father’s staggering debts?" Jeff sneered, his gaze dripping with contempt.

Amber bit her lip until it bled. Jeff was being cruel. Her family was indeed drowning in debt, but the thought of exploiting him had never crossed her mind.

"One million pounds is a fortune, Amber. It seems you won’t be able to pay it back in this lifetime." Jeff let out a thin, mocking smirk.

A collective gasp rippled through the ballroom as the guests heard the astronomical figure. It was hard to believe that Mr. Darke Pierce, once one of London’s most respected tycoons, had fallen so far.

"Unless..." Jeff’s smile turned predatory. "Unless you’re willing to perform a striptease for me. If you do, I’ll personally clear half of that debt."

Amber froze. A striptease? It was a blatant attempt to humiliate her. Yet, 500,000 dolar was an undeniable lifeline. It could change everything for her dying family.

"Come on, Amber! Dance for us! Take it off!" The shouts from the men in the crowd began to rise, making Amber’s skin crawl.

"Go ahead, Amber. Slake our thirst," Jeff provoked, watching her hesitation with twisted delight.

"Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!" The chant grew deafening. Amber’s entire body trembled. Was her dignity worth 500,000 dollars?

Jeff pulled a check from his breast pocket, the figures—$500,000—clearly visible.

"This check is yours the moment you start dancing for everyone," Jeff taunted, waving the paper in front of her face like bait.

Amber’s resolve began to crumble. She had already lost her status, her home, and her pride in this city. People who once worshipped her now looked at her with disgust. She realized then that money was the only metric of worth here. Without it, she was nothing—even the office boys felt entitled to harass her.

"What are you waiting for, Amber? You'll never earn this kind of money this easily again," Jeff urged.

Desperation took hold. With her father suffering from a stroke and facing a prison cell, Amber felt she had no choice. She reached for the first button of her blouse. The crowd roared in anticipation. Every man in the room was eager to witness the forbidden beauty of London’s former golden girl for free.

As the buttons gave way, the room went silent. Some watched with lust, others with judgmental smirks, but all of them were captivated.

Slowly, she let the fabric slide down, exposing shoulders as white as porcelain. The sight drew hungry gazes and hushed murmurs of desire. Amber squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to break down in front of them. She lowered the garment further, nearly revealing the intimate curves she had never shown a soul.

THUD.

Suddenly, a heavy black suit jacket draped over her frame, shielding her from view. Amber gasped, spinning around to find herself face-to-face with Dave Oliver. He was strikingly handsome, notoriously cold, and rumored to be a misanthrope when it came to women.

"Don't do something stupid that will haunt you for the rest of your life," Dave whispered. His baritone voice was steady, his gaze calm yet dangerously sharp.

"Uncle Dave, what is the meaning of this?" Jeff snapped, his face contorted with frustration at the interruption.

"You’re a fool, Jeff. To humiliate a woman like this... it’s pathetic." Dave’s eyes narrowed at his nephew.

"Oh, come on, Uncle. I was just having a little fun with her." Jeff rolled his eyes, but Dave ignored him entirely.

Amber stood paralyzed. The crowd began to jeer and boo in disappointment, but one icy glare from Dave Oliver silenced the entire room.

"Follow me." Dave took Amber’s hand and led her out of the gala.

"Amber! Where do you think you're going?" Jeff yelled, his face flushed with anger. As her former fiancé, he was desperate to see what Dave had just hidden.

Amber didn't look back. She followed Dave's lead, even though she had no idea where he was taking her.

Minutes later, Dave’s luxury sedan pulled up to a sprawling, magnificent estate. This was the residence of the tech mogul behind Alves Tech—a man shrouded in mystery and rumors.

"Go inside," Dave commanded.

He led her to a lavish living room and poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Amber with a polished, professional courtesy that only made her more nervous.

"Drink, Miss Amber."

The rumors about Dave Oliver were terrifying: that he was a harsh man who hated the touch of women, leading many to believe he had sworn off them entirely after a traumatic first marriage.

"Why?" Amber finally asked, her voice trembling. "Why did you help me?"

Dave didn't answer immediately. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, leaning back against the sofa with an air of calculated nonchalant. Amber watched him, searching his handsome, enigmatic face for a motive.

Finally, Dave spoke without looking at her.

"Instead of baring your body to all those men... I'd rather you show it to me. To me alone."