All Chapters of Not just a billionaire : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Lena Carter wasn’t used to being spoiled.She was used to tips tucked under greasy plates, shoes that pinched her feet by hour four of a shift, and nights spent counting every dollar in her checking account before committing to a latte.So, waking up in Rafael Blackthorne’s bed to the sound of a string quartet playing softly from hidden speakers?Yeah. That was new.She blinked up at the ceiling, still drowsy, still warm under the sheets. Then—“Good morning, sunshine,” Rafael said, leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but a pair of tailored slacks and a sinfully smug smile. “Hope you slept well.”Lena sat up, pulling the sheets with her. “Are you… playing live music right now?”He shrugged like it was nothing. “I thought you deserved something elegant to wake up to.”“Okay, but a quartet?”“Just a string duo, technically. The other two got stuck in traffic.”She stared at him.He grinned wider.“Rafael,” she said slowly, “this is insane.”“Correction,” he said, walking towa

The envelope sat between them like a curse.Lena stared at it, her hands cold, even as Rafael crumpled the photo and tossed it into the fireplace. Flames curled around the glossy paper, eating away the image of them kissing. But the feeling lingered.She wasn’t just uneasy—she was watched.Rafael paced, his shirt half-buttoned, dark eyes flashing with fury. “I’m calling Ethan. He’ll track who dropped this off.”“What if they didn’t drop it?” Lena’s voice was quiet but firm. “What if they got in?”He froze. His jaw clenched.“No one gets into this penthouse without a clearance code.”“Then someone has it.”He didn’t argue. He grabbed his phone, dialed fast. “Ethan. Code red. I want every second of security footage reviewed. Check for cloned access cards. And send someone to guard Lena 24/7.”Her eyes widened. “That’s extreme.”“That’s protection.”He ended the call and turned to her, softer now. “You’re not going anywhere alone.”For once, she didn’t want to argue.The envelope had sha

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of Rafael’s penthouse, casting soft golden rays over the bed where Lena lay, tangled in white sheets and still breathless from the night before. She blinked awake slowly, a delicious ache in her limbs and a smile tugging at her lips. Rafael was beside her, one arm flung over her waist, chest rising and falling steadily. In sleep, he looked younger. Softer. None of that ruthless billionaire armor. She traced his jaw with her fingertips, barely brushing his skin. His eyes opened slowly. “Good morning,” he said, voice gravelly and low. “Mmm. Morning,” she murmured. “Sleep well?” “I did. You’re good for my insomnia.” He reached for her, pulling her fully into his chest. “You wore me out, Miss Carter.” She laughed into his neck, her cheeks flushing. “You’re the one who—” He cut her off with a kiss, one hand tangled in her hair, the other skimming the curve of her back. She melted instantly, lost in the warmth of him. Their kisses t

Rafael hadn’t let go of Lena’s hand since they left the security meeting.The penthouse elevator rose in silence, the space humming with unsaid things. He stood beside her in his tailored black suit, freshly pressed but wrinkled now from stress. Lena caught a glimpse of them in the mirrored wall—him, tall and tight-jawed; her, red-haired, wide-eyed, wearing a silk blouse she’d once thought was too expensive for someone like her.Now she looked like she belonged in his world. But nothing about this moment felt glamorous.“I still think it could’ve been someone else,” she said quietly. “Tyson’s dangerous, yeah. But that photo in my locker… the lipstick on my coffee cup… that doesn’t feel like him.”Rafael’s grip tightened. “He’s obsessed. That makes him unpredictable.”The elevator doors opened to the penthouse’s quiet luxury. Mira was waiting inside with two glasses of wine and a look that said you’d better talk to her right, Rafael Blackthorne.“I’ll be in the guest suite if you need m

Lena knew something was wrong the moment she opened her eyes.The light in the bedroom was low, golden morning bleeding through the sheer curtains. But Rafael wasn’t in bed. The sheets were still warm beside her, and his scent clung to the pillows — but the man himself? Gone.She sat up, heart already tapping an uneasy rhythm. She called his name once.No answer.She padded into the living room, bare feet on cool marble, wearing one of his black button-down shirts. He was there, standing in front of the windows, back rigid, staring out over the skyline like it had personally betrayed him.“Rafe?”He turned slowly. And the second their eyes met, her stomach dropped.His face was unreadable — too calm. Too still.“What happened?” she asked softly.He didn’t answer. Just walked over to the bar cart, poured a glass of scotch, and knocked it back like it was water.“Okay,” Lena said, crossing her arms. “Are you going to tell me why you’re acting like the world’s ending, or do I get to gues