The Ruthless Billionaire CEO hated Nurse

Her own mirror wall reflection was a striking contrast. Under the lights, her understated yet sophisticated silver gown embraced her little frame. The fabric shimmered. She had always felt like an outsider in this planet, an imposter attempting to fit somewhere she did not belong. Her heart raced, the beats resonating in her chest as she changed her clutch to project a composed look. 

Every inch of her felt out of place as champagne flutes clinked about her. She tried to make herself invisible by flitting frantically from face to face, but she couldn't help but feel like the centre of attention. Her father's debts had brought her here; now, this golden prison was all she knew.

Then her eyes locked with him. Rylan Delacroix was standing in shadows next to the bar across the room. From a distance, his presence was magnetic, strong and directive. Though every inch of him exuded control, from his flawlessly fitting suit to the cool, calculated stare he swept over the room, his stance was comfortable. His black hair, slicked back precisely, caught the light to accentuate his keen features. Something about him made her skin tingle; his dark, penetrating gaze fastened onto hers like a predator sighting prey.

She stopped. Time itself seemed to have slowed, and the noise of the room vanished into nothing save her own heart hammering. He showed no smile. He had no need for. Unquestionably, the air was charged with exciting tension. His eyes revealed a tangible strength, the weight of his concentration far more than anything she had known.

She seemed to be walking towards him and the surroundings vanished with every stride. Her heels quietly tapping against the glossy floor, she had to work to maintain consistent breathing as she moved. She could not turn away from him even if her palms were clammy as she came towards. Until she was standing before him, unable to escape the intensity of his look, the distance between them appeared to narrow.

Rylan drew a step forward without saying, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Her senses were overwhelmed as their distance closed and she felt his presence invading her personal space.

With a smooth, under control edge of authority that left no room for debate, Rylan Delacroix's voice sliced through the tension like a scalpel. "Amaya Donovan," he remarked with a nearly contemptuous tone. "I know a lot about you." Her skin pricked as his lips curved into a thin, hungry smile.

Amaya kept her cool while her pulse flew. She graced a nice but stiff smile. Her speech serene but inwardly she felt everything but. "I didn't think you'd notice someone like me," she said.

His eyes swept her from head to toe, evaluating her like a piece of art, or maybe a pawn in a game he had already mastered. "You're hard to miss," he muttered. His eyes stayed fixed, and Amaya felt as though he saw right through her, the nerves, the pain, the weight of her father's obligations propelling her into this precise moment.

Amaya started to say something, but the words escaped her tongue. The room seemed too little; his presence too strong. Feeling awkward amid the sea of polished professionals, she moved her weight from one foot to the other. Standing so naturally in his position, this man made her feel as though she was merely passing through, a shadow in a world designed for people with money and power.

"I'm guessing you're not here for the champagne," Rylan said, his voice low but firm and his eyes never leaving hers. "Your father's debts bring you here. That is correct, Amaya? His comments landed with a sharpness that made her spine quiver. Though she had never told him a word, it was as if he knew precisely why she was here, exactly what she was running from.

Her pulse skipped a beat. She ought to have realised that her presence here would not go unreported. But it became all the more real hearing the hard reality emerge from his mouth.

Amaya remarked, her voice just a whisper: "You've got it wrong." "He's the reason I'm not here. I'm here since I had little option.  

Rylan laughed gently, the sound dark and knowing. "Amaya, everyone of us has options. Sometimes we simply find the ones we must produce unacceptable.

Amaya battled to remain calm as she met his eyes. And what advice would you have for me right now, Mr. Delacroix? Should I request charity? The remarks were sharp, more cutting than she had meant. Every pulse of her heart squeezed her chest.

His eyes shone with something unreadable, a spark of entertainment. "I doubt you will have to plead. One way or another you will pay the cost at last.

Rylan's lips turned to a smile, one more of calculation than of compassion. She felt small because of the kind of smile that implied he knew something she did not. He moved nearer, bridging the distance between them, and Amaya felt heat rising inside her from the proximity as well as from his disturbing power.

"You, Amaya," he whispered in a low drawl. "Simple is what I want." I want you to know the circumstances you find yourself in. There is cost associated with your father's debts. And now is the moment for your payment.

Her skin warmed from his breath, and his words sank right down into her chest. Amaya felt her heart thunder in her throat. She was mute and immobile. She thought of a deer caught in the headlights of a car poised to crush her under its weight.

"Your father is not the only one who has made mistakes," Rylan said. Amaya, you would pay for them as well. Whether or whether you want to.

She tried to talk once more, but the weight of his presence sucked the words back up. He drew in closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear, his voice lowering to a whisper that chilled her spine.

"Now, I think it's time you understood just how much you'll have to pay."