Drawing love with billonaire

SCARLETT

"Good morning."

The voice cut through the haze in my mind, soft and familiar, like it had always been part of my world. I knew that voice. It was the voice I had heard countless times in my father's house. The voice that sent my heart racing every time I heard it.

For a moment, I didn't move. I didn't even breathe. I just lay there, my eyes still closed, hoping-praying-that I was imagining things.

But I wasn't.

Slowly, I brushed the messy strands of hair out of my face and opened my eyes, blinking against the soft morning light.

And there he was.

Zayden.

Lying in bed.

Next to me.

Oh. My. God.

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart started pounding so hard I thought it might explode. I sat up slowly, clutching the blanket tightly around me, my hands trembling as I tried to process what I was seeing.

Zayden's face was pale, his dark hair tousled, and his eyes-those deep, intense eyes I'd always loved-were wide with shock. He looked like he couldn't believe this was happening either.

"What... what the hell?" he muttered, sitting up quickly. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening as he avoided looking at me.

My mind was racing, memories from last night flooding back in pieces, like shattered glass slicing through my thoughts. I remembered the fight with my dad. The club. The drinks. The kiss.

Oh, God.

I felt a wave of nausea as the realization hit me. I had just slept with my father's best friend.

Zayden was forty-six. My dad's age.

What have I done?

I had always liked Zayden. No, scratch that-I had always been obsessed with him. Ever since I was a teenager, he had been my secret crush, the man I fantasized about late at night when I was supposed to be sleeping.

My friends, Jessica and Clara, knew all about it. They used to tease me relentlessly whenever Zayden came over to visit my dad.

"Scarlett, stop drooling," Jessica would whisper, elbowing me as I stared at him from across the living room.

"You're going to marry him one day," Clara would joke, and we'd all laugh.

But it wasn't a joke to me. Not really.

I had tried everything to get his attention over the years. I remember when I turned sixteen and suddenly realized that I wasn't a kid anymore. My body had changed. I had curves, and I knew how to use them.

One time, I wore a tight, low-cut dress when I knew Zayden was coming over. I spent hours doing my hair and makeup, hoping he'd notice. And he did.

"Scarlett, aren't you a little young to be dressing like that?" he had said, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at my outfit.

My face had turned bright red, and I mumbled something about fashion before rushing upstairs. But deep down, I had been thrilled. He had noticed me.

Another time, I had accidentally-on-purpose dropped my notebook in front of him so I could bend down and pick it up, giving him a full view of my legs. I wasn't subtle, but I didn't care.

And then there was the time I had walked around the house barefoot, hoping he'd notice my pedicure. I'd heard somewhere that men had a thing for feet, and I was desperate to catch his attention any way I could.