The Billionaire Wants Me

Chapter One

First day I met Rob the billionaire, I was delivering gifts to someone else in his company, AetherTech Innovations, the popular tower whose tip is so high it is buried in the clouds, a solid landmark of concrete and steel.

The client I was delivering the items to was on the thirtieth floor. I was holding his basket of snacks, luxury chocolates and vintage wine. And the moment I reached the reception and pressed the elevator button, a tall figure stood behind me. We walked in together.

He quickly filled the elevator space with his aura, smelling like menthol and clean air. You could tell that an important person was standing beside you even without looking, but I had to look. Alas, I was immediately taken aback. This was goddamn Rob from the magazine covers, the billionaire owner of the building I was in.

It became more terrifying that he was looking right back at me. “Hello,” he said, smiling.

"Hi,” I cleared my throat.

His voice was unnaturally deep. Truthfully, he was like rare god. Think of Bill Gates in his late twenties but taller and bulkier without the eyeglasses. He has stubbles on his chin like freshly cut grass in tiny, sharp definition.

My heart was in my mouth and I could feel it. What were the chances? I had submitted applications multiple times to AetherTech, getting rejected by human resources for not having enough experience. My boyfriend, Max, and my best friend Olivier, thought we should go into couriering, and as it currently stood, it seemed our startup was doing just fine. Delivery was quick and smooth. I rode my power bike like a pro, cutting through the craziest New York traffic just to keep clients happy.

Right here in the elevator, I wasn’t feeling professional or competent or any of those stuff. I felt powerless, weak at the knees, almost like the country’s president was the person standing next to me. Rob’s smile hadn't even faded yet.

I had to shake myself off the inertia before it became too awkward. I must say something. Say something, Priscilla. “Nice shoes.” I pointed at his legs.

He laughed and said, “Are those for me?” gesturing with his chin at my gift basket.

"Nope,” I giggled. “Sorry. They’re for someone else”

He lifted his palm and gently slapped his forehead. “I want some for myself. When will you be delivering mine?”

"Well,” I stood up straight to explain carefully, almost as if I was about giving a presentation. “The way it works is that you will have to place an order, right? You place it, you get it.”

"Ohhhhhh,” the billionaire said sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have guessed! You know what? What’s your name?”

"Priscilla.”

"Okay Priscilla. Let me have your number. I'll call you later in the day to place an order. Is this okay?”

"You love chocolates that much?” I asked, cuddling the gift basket close to my chest like a teddy bear. I was getting lost.

"You have no idea,” he said. “If you were a box of chocolate, I'll waste no time eating you up.”

Lord God, I screamed in my head.

This wasn't happening. I never knew almighty Rob was this chill and playful and flirty. He resembled a sadist in those magazine photos, never smiling, always serious with his business face.

I covered my mouth with my palm to stifle the laughter, turning my face away so he wouldn’t see me blush. I was having butterflies in my belly.

But I quickly realized I was cheating on my boyfriend Max. I shouldn’t be philandering with another guy even if he's a young technology billionaire.

I caught myself just in time to stay quiet while the elevator kept lifting.

Somehow, before he finally dismounted, he convinced me to spell out my contact.

"I'll call you,” he said.

Ever since then, Rob hasn't allowed me to rest.

I thought billionaires were too busy to even chase women. There must be thousands of women in his life throwing themselves at him. He sends text messages upon text messages. “What's special about me?” I asked dreamily just yesterday night. My boyfriend Max was asleep beside me on our bed as the clock above our heads audibly ticked. My best friend Olivier was in her own room soundly asleep too. “I’m just a delivery girl”

But he countered with the excuse that he’s never seen a girl as good-looking yet humble as me, and that I remind him of himself, and that I’m the female version of himself. All that obvious lies. How many girls has he told those to? All he wants, most likely, is to get in our skirts and that will be that.

I might be actively replying to his texts, but truth be told, I might never say yes. At the moment, I enjoy the attention yet I intend telling everything to Max soon, just so I don’t fall into the trap of ever considering his offer.

But when he sends a hundred and ten thousand dollars into my account without me asking, everything changed.