MR. BILLIONAIRE'S LITTLE SLAVE
"I also remember that you haven't eaten. Even billionaires need fuel, or do you run on pure arrogance?"
Atlas froze. No one talked to him like that. His employees trembled his rivals plotted. But this girl from the province, with her messy hair and defiant eyes, looked at him like he was just a man. He took a step toward me, his presence looming, filling the space between us with a sudden, electric heat.
"You're bold for someone whose future depends on my signature," he whispered, pinning me against the mahogany bookshelf.
I didn’t flinch. I reached out, my fingers tentatively brushing the cold silk of his tie. "You bought my time, Atlas. You didn't buy my fear."
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