WANTED BY THREE BILLIONAIRES

ELENA'S POV

Three hours into my shift at Viv's House Restaurant and I'd already dealt with two entitled customers who'd sent their steaks back three times, because wasn't bloody enough.

But I knew that I had to work, the other option was ending up on the street, so I plastered a smile on my face as I approached table twelve, the strawberry milkshake balanced perfectly on my tray.

After three years as a waitress, my fake smile looked real. My makeup hid the dark circles under my eyes. Dark circles that came from morning shifts at the diner, late nights doing online data entry until two a.m., and sleeping less than four hours for weeks.

"Here's your straw…" I started saying but the words died in my throat and the smile evaporated from my face.

David Chen, my boyfriend of 5 years and fiancé for 1 year, sat in the corner booth of table twelve, and he was not alone.

A woman in a dress that looks like it cost more than my monthly rent was pressed against his side, her manicured hand on his thigh, her lips on his mouth, kissing him, the other hand tugging at his shirt.

"What?!" I shouted before I could get control of myself.

The woman pulled back from David, turning to look at me, disgust on her face.

"You're cheating on me?" I asked for confirmation, like I was blind and hadn't just caught him.

The anger began to rise slowly in my chest, affecting the way I was breathing, every double shift I'd worked, every meal I'd skipped so he could eat, every time I'd smiled through exhaustion because his dreams mattered, his future mattered, the future we had planned together mattered.

I lifted the milkshake and poured it on his head. The pink liquid dropped from his head and unto the yellow shirt he was wearing.

"What the hell!" David stared at his shirt, wiped the liquid from his eyes and lunged forward, his face twisting with fury.

The slap came so fast I didn't see it coming. My head snapped to the side, pain exploding across my cheek, I could felt it burn with heat. I lost grip of the tray I was holding and it fell, shattering into bits around the floor.

Everyone was staring now and some of them were already laughing at me.

"Are you fucking insane?" David's voice was cold. He sounded nothing like the man who had just spent last week whispering in my ears about how he loved me and how he wanted to have just two kids when I wanted five.

I didn't understand what was happening. I couldn't believe. I was speechless. David had never hit me, never even raised his voice at me before.

"I worked three jobs for you," I choked out. "Three jobs, David. I paid for your classes. I made sure you had everything you needed for school. I…"

"And I'm supposed to be grateful?" He looked at me like I mud he had just pulled from under his feet. “You're a waitress, Elena. I have a degree now. Vivienne's father is giving me a position at Laurent Tech. Why would I settle for someone like you when I could have someone like her?"

I turned to the woman, Vivienne.

She stood up gracefully, staring at the milkshake splattered on her dress, then at me.

“I'm sorry,” I muttered. “I was just…”

She didn't wait for me to complete the apology before she slapped me across my cheek, harder than the one that David had given me.

I stumbled backward, tasting blood and seeing stars.

"You stupid little nobody," Vivienne said, her voice arctic. "Do you know how much this dress costs? Do you know who I am?"

"I don't…" I started.

Vivienne shoved me. My feet tangled and I went down, my hip slamming into the hardwood floor.

As I tried balancing myself on the ground, sharp shards from the tray pierced into my palm. I groaned and pulled them out but I was already bleeding. Before I could stand up, cold liquid drenched me, red wine soaking through my white shirt, staining my skin.

"Maria!" Vivienne snapped her fingers and the restaurant manager appeared, already bowing.

"Ms. Laurent, I'm so sorry, I don't know what…"

"Is this what I get from making you manager?" Vivienne asked.

"Ms Laurent I…"

"Employing nitwits?" Vivienne asked, cutting her off.

"Yes, yes, you see how stupid you are," Vivienne laughed loudly, seeing the comprehension on my face. "You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes."

"Please…"

"And you're fired. Security, get her out of here." She said with a swipe of her hand.

"Wait, please…" I struggled to stand but hands were already on my arms, hauling me up, dragging me toward the door. I caught one last glimpse of David, his arm around Vivienne as she tried to clean some of the liquid from his shirt. He didn't even look at me.

I slumped onto a stool at Murphy's.

I had changed into a clean shirt and rushed out of my house before I could get consumed by the thought of what had just happened.

I ordered a whiskey. Then another. Then tequila because I wanted to burn away the memory of David's face. The tears were already coming and I could do nothing about it.

Five years! His parents had not cared about his future but the moment he spoke to me about, about going to business school, I had given him everything… tuition, time to study, everything…I bent my head on the bar table and cried.

"Hey beautiful." A man's voice said, making me raise my head. He slid onto the stool next to me, smelling like cigarettes. "Looks like you've had a rough night. Want some company?"

"No." I didn't look at him.

His hand landed on my thigh, squeezed. "Come on, don't be like that. Let me cheer you up. I promise to give you a good time."

"I said no." I tried to push his hand away but the alcohol made my movements clumsy.

"A girl alone, dressed like this, drunk..." His grip tightened, started pulling me off the stool. "You're practically asking for…"

A motorcycle helmet appeared from nowhere.

It connected with the man's head with a sickening crack. He dropped like a puppet with cut strings, blood trickling from his temple, unconscious before he hit the floor.

I stared. The bar went quiet as people stared in my direction, at the man on the ground but it was only a second before they continued like nothing had happened.

A man stepped over the body, helmet dangling from one hand, and slid onto the vacated stool. He looked young, dark brown hair fell across his head, his eyes looked black in the dim light, a few days stumble on his face.

He wore a leather jacket over a white t-shirt, jeans, and motorcycle boots.

He set the helmet on the bar and looked at me.

Then he smiled.

It was the kind of smile that should have sent me running out of the bar, into the street, back to my house and locking my door in seconds.

Because one clear thing I could read from the smile was that he was completely unrepentant about the unconscious man bleeding on the floor.

"Oops," he said with a shrug and drained the entire content of my glass. I didn't know why but I found myself smiling back at him and cleaning my mascara stained face.

"You okay?" His voice was rough, textured like whiskey.

"Do I look okay?" I gestured at myself and laughed drily.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For... that."

He shrugged. "Guy was asking for it."

We sat in silence for a moment. The bartender was on the phone, probably calling the police. I knew I should leave, should care, should do something.

But I was so tired of caring.

"Kiss me," I said.

His eyebrows rose. "You're drunk."

"Not drunk enough." I met his eyes. They were black in the dim light, unreadable. "I want to forget today ever happened. I want to feel like I matter to someone, even if it's just for tonight. Can you do that?"

He studied me for a long moment, his gaze dropping to my lips.

"No," he said.

I grabbed his jacket and pulled him to me. Kissed him like I was drowning.

He made a sound low in his throat and kissed me back. His hand slid into my hair, angled my head, deepened the kiss until I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't remember my own name.

When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

"I want to get out of here," I said and smiled.

"Come," the man said as he fitted the helmet on my head.

His lips found mine the second the elevator doors closed.

We stumbled through his apartment door in a tangle of limbs and desperate need.

His jacket hit the floor. My shirt. His t-shirt revealing lean muscle and a tattoo across his ribs. My bra.

He lifted me and I wrapped my legs around his waist. My back hit the wall and his mouth was on my neck, my collarbone, traveling lower until I gasped.

We didn't make it to the bedroom the first time.

When we finally did and he laid me on the bed, I shattered in his arms. Then again. Then once more before exhaustion pulled me under.

Sunlight woke me.

I was naked in a bed the size of my apartment, tangled in silk sheets, my head pounding. The room was all clean lines and expensive art.

A motorcycle helmet sat on the dresser.

My clothes were scattered across the floor with his. I found my phone in my jeans pocket. Seven missed calls from a number I didn't recognize.

Memories hit in fragments. His hands. His mouth. The way he'd looked at me… he probably did that with all the women that fall for his… charms?

He was still asleep beside me, one arm thrown over his head.

I slipped out of bed, found my jeans, my shirt. The apartment was silent except for my breathing and the sound of him sleeping.

Where the hell had I been?

And who the hell was he?