Lahat ng Kabanata ng A BILLIONAIRE'S PROMISE: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The ice clinked against the crystal glass as I poured another whiskey for a guest who wouldn't even look at me. That was fine. I wasn't here to be seen. I was here to help Sophie, and more importantly, to earn the extra cash that would cover Mom's next round of medication."Ella, sweetie, table seven needs more champagne." Sophie's voice crackled through the earpiece I'd reluctantly agreed to wear. "And try to smile more. You look like you're attending a funeral."I forced my lips into something resembling a smile. It felt foreign on my face. The truth was, funerals were probably more cheerful than this event. Hundreds of Manhattan's elite mingled under the glittering chandeliers of The Pierre Hotel, their laughter too loud, their jewelry too heavy, their smiles too perfect. They floated through life on money I couldn't even imagine, while I calculated whether I could afford both Mom's medication and groceries this week."Smiling," I whispered back, adjusting the black vest that felt

Sleep was a foreign country I couldn't find my way back to.I lay in my narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows shift as cars passed outside. My apartment was too small, too quiet, too full of the things I couldn't afford to fix—the dripping faucet in the kitchen, the crack in the window, the way the radiator clanked all night like it was dying.But none of that mattered tonight.Tonight, all I could see were green eyes.I rolled onto my side, punched my pillow into submission, and squeezed my eyes shut. It didn't help. He was there, imprinted on the inside of my eyelids like a photograph I couldn't delete. The way he'd crouched beside me. The warmth of his fingers. The impossible depth in his voice when he'd said, "You're bleeding."*Stop it*, I told myself firmly. *He was just being decent. It meant nothing.*But my hand drifted to my nightstand, where I'd placed his handkerchief after washing it carefully in the sink. The linen was impossibly soft, the monogram ele

Black Enterprises rose from the Manhattan skyline like a monument to everything I would never have.Forty-seven floors of glass and steel, catching the afternoon sun and throwing it back at the world in arrogant defiance. The lobby alone was bigger than my entire apartment building—marble floors polished to a mirror shine, a reception desk the size of a small car, security guards who looked at me like I'd wandered in from another dimension.Which, technically, I had.I'd been standing across the street for three hours.My feet ached. My stomach growled. My carefully constructed courage had crumbled somewhere around hour two and was now a puddle of doubt at my feet. What was I doing here? What was I going to say? *Excuse me, Mr. Billionaire, but could you please stop being inexplicably generous to me because it's making me feel things I don't want to feel?*Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.I watched the revolving doors spin, disgorging perfectly dressed people who all seemed to know exac

I felt like an idiot.That was the thought that followed me home from the restaurant, that kept me company through the sleepless hours of early morning, that sat beside me while I helped Mom with her breakfast and pretended everything was fine. It was the thought that echoed in my skull every time I closed my eyes, every time I replayed those final moments in the restaurant—the way he'd looked at me, the way he'd touched my face, the way he'd said my name like it cost him something to let it go.An idiot. A complete and utter fool.What had I been thinking? That a man like Xander Black could actually be interested in someone like me? That his attention meant something more than amusement? That I was anything other than a distraction—a brief entertainment for a billionaire with nothing better to do while he waited for something more interesting to come along?*You're different, Ella. And that scares me.*Different. Right. Different like a zoo animal is different. Something to observe,

The address led me to a building that didn't look like a building at all. It looked like a monument—all glass and steel and impossible angles, rising into the night sky like a challenge to God himself. A doorman in a uniform that cost more than my monthly rent took one look at me and started to speak, but I was already moving, already flashing the code Xander had texted, already stepping into an elevator that required a key just to breathe its air.The ride was endless. Floors ticked past—10, 20, 30, 40—and with each one, my heart climbed higher into my throat. What was I doing? Why had I come? He was drunk and emotional and probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning.But his voice echoed in my head. *I need someone to see me. The real me. And you're the only person who ever has.*The elevator doors opened directly into his apartment.I stepped out and forgot how to breathe.The penthouse was ridiculous. Obscenely so. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed Manhattan like a living pa