ONE NIGHT THRILL WITH UNKNOWN BILLIONAIRE

Slowly, with the weight of sleep still pressing down on me, I woke up. Gentle shadows were created throughout the room by the soft morning light that came in through the curtains. My head was pressed up against something warm and firm. An enormous, immobile presence.

I blinked, momentarily confused, and then the memories came flooding back: the kiss, the touch, the feel of his body against mine.

Andrew.

I looked up a little and saw him lying beside me. Although the hardness that seemed to be a permanent fixture in his expression even when he was asleep was gone, his face was relaxed. There was a subtle hint of him in the room—cologne, something pricey and manly. Along with something else, I felt a strange sense of calm. Something that was perilously near to being happy.

I told myself it was dumb. A man who could never be more than a fleeting thought in my life had captured my attention, and I had become engrossed in the moment. It had been a wild, intense night, nothing more than a quick, flaming run-in between two strangers. I ought to have kept that in mind.

However, I hadn't.

Carefully moving so as not to wake him, I discovered my phone on the bedside table. 8:42 a.m. Even though I had a shift in a few hours, I was already stressed about going back to the hotel. I wasn't sure how I should approach him.

I froze, praying he wouldn't wake up, as he moved in bed and grunted softly.

Naturally, though, he did.

Andrew's eyes opened slowly and languidly, as though he didn't give a damn. Before his eyes met mine, he blinked once and twice. I briefly believed I caught a glimpse of the man I had seen in the dark, a glint of something softer in his eyes.

However, as the moment went by, the icy, cunning gaze reappeared.

With his back to me, he pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. It was like a kick to the face that there was no warmth between us. My stomach turned over.

"Good morning," he said in a flat, nearly robotic voice, as though the night before had only been a dream. He didn't even turn to face me.

With a dry throat, I swallowed. I managed to say "Morning," despite feeling as though I had a lump stuck in my throat.

Silence fell for a beat. His movements were quick and fluid as if he had already made up his mind to go. His expression was blank as I watched him gather his belongings.

That last night had meant nothing to him dawned on me at that moment. Not in the sense I had intended. Even when he kissed me, his cold detachment showed that he wasn't engrossed in the moment. That was the only plausible explanation. The man sitting on the edge of the bed, buttoning his shirt with mechanical precision, was not the same Andrew I had seen the night before—passionate and intense.

I had something to say. To enquire as to why. However, I was unable to locate the words. How was I able to? How could I respond? I was not entitled to him.

I felt a tightness in my chest, a pain that made breathing difficult, so I pulled the sheets closer around me.

Without giving me even a sidelong glance, he put on his jacket and finished getting dressed. Even in those final moments, I could feel him moving away from me.

He eventually turned to face me at the door, his expression unimpressed.

He said, "Well, Amelia," in a tone so icy that it made my skin crawl. "I appreciate your company last night." A faint smile curved his lips, but it stopped short of his eyes. "I'll see to it that the room charges are paid. Enjoy your day.

Then he disappeared.

In the quiet of the room, he heard the door click shut behind him.

I felt the emptiness envelop me like a dense fog as I sat there for a long time. My chest ached and wouldn't go away. I wanted to yell and scream at the door that he had just left, but I refrained.

I was unable to.

Rather, I allowed the tears to fall, heavy and silent. I quickly removed them to prevent them from showing, but it made no difference. There was pain. There was no denying the truth.

I had been used by him.

It had never really mattered to him. He was just another man, and he thought I was just a temporary distraction. And I'd allowed myself to think otherwise. In the moment's intensity, I had allowed myself to lose myself in the possibility of what might have happened.

However, it was only a fantasy.

I had been wrong.

I had to gather myself to face the day. When it came to a man like Andrew Robinson, there were no second chances. And I had to remind myself of that, as painful as it was. Someone who could leave so easily had no place in my life.

I would go on. I'd forget.

All I had to do this morning was survive.

---

My head was in a daze by the time I got to work. That moment, that icy dismissal, kept playing over and over in my mind. He had regarded me as if I were just another anonymous person in a crowd.

While I was heading to the rear to change for my shift, I noticed my best friend Sarah already working behind the desk. She gave me a quick smile, but I was unable to reciprocate. She must have noticed something in my eyes because when I walked up to her, her smile wavered.

With concern in her voice, she enquired, "Are you okay?"

I forced a tight smile and nodded rapidly. Indeed. I'm all right.

She arched an eyebrow, obviously not convinced, but she didn't say anything more.

I became aware that I wasn't okay as I passed her. I was not at all okay.

However, I would be. Finally.

Or I would pretend to be, anyway.