The Billionaire Secret Desire

In front of the full-length mirror, Isla Matthews fiddled with her dress for the hundredth time, the silky material sticking to her body in every possible way. She was positive it made her appear less like a senior in college attending a high-society charity event and more like a bewildered girl playing dress-up. She felt the weight of every eye that would unavoidably be on her tonight, and the glitzy, chandelier-lit ballroom of the Manhattan hotel seemed like a far cry from the run-down dorm room she had left behind.

Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. The screen flickered to a text from Jenna, her best friend: "It's unbelievable that you're really doing this. Please don't get sucked into the nonsense.

Isla tapped out a quick response while grinning at the screen: "I'm just here to get a grade. I swear I won't become one of them.

She rolled her eyes, put her phone back in her handbag, and grudgingly followed the stream of elegantly attired people making their way into the opulent ballroom. The guests appeared to be focused solely on impressing one another at the charity gala, which was held to raise money for impoverished children. However, Isla only needed to complete her social studies class assignment. It was merely a pretext to enter the room.

On her way to the door, heels clicking loudly on the marble floor, she heard bits of conversation-talk about private planes, yachts, and charitable endeavours. It wasn't for her. She was barely able to pay for her textbooks, let alone the luxuries they mentioned as if they were normal.

To project the confidence she didn't feel, Isla forced herself to walk taller by taking a deep breath. She looked around the ballroom as she walked in, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces. But all she saw were tailored suits, sparkling jewellery, and flawless smiles that made fun of her, like she was an outsider.

Then she caught sight of him.

Cameron Blackwood stood like a legendary figure at the top of the stairs, his chiselled, pointed features softly lit by the chandeliers. His icy blue eyes and dark, well-groomed hair seemed to pierce through the crowd as he looked around the room with a sense of arrogance that made Isla tense.

It was clear that his wealth was not the only notable aspect about him. He was surrounded by people who either greeted him with fear or reverence. He was the heir to the Blackwood family, which was at the top of New York's social scale and had a notoriously revered name. And he appeared to wear that title like a crown-cold, distant, and uncaring.

Isla shook her head, a knot forming in her stomach. He was the kind of person she detested. Those who were born into affluence never had to endure hardship or understand what it was like to fight for every inch of achievement. She wanted to leave the room, forget about the grade, and go to a peaceful place where she could temporarily feel normal.

However, fate seemed to have different intentions.

Cameron went down the stairs with deliberate, measured steps, as if he owned the world and the place. As she stared at him, Isla felt a mixture of curiosity and contempt. He seemed different, darker even, than the wealthy, entitled men she had seen in the past.

A spark of something ignited between them as their eyes locked. At first, it wasn't attraction. It resembled a collision of energies more than anything else, with two opposing forces drawn to one another. In the hopes that he hadn't noticed the slight strain in her posture, she turned away. However, it was too late.

As she went to get a drink, she stumbled slightly when the back of her heel caught on the hem of her dress. Her hands flew out, and if it weren't for someone holding her elbow steadily, she would have fallen.

Isla's heart skipped a beat when she heard a low voice tease, "I've never seen someone look so uncomfortable in a ball gown."

She was shocked when she looked up and saw that Cameron Blackwood was standing right in front of her. His posture was so effortlessly composed that she felt like a clumsy schoolgirl, and his smirk was as cool as his gaze.

"I'm not sure what you're doing here," Isla retorted, her tone sharp. "But I assume you're not here to do charitable work."

His smirk expanded, and his cold exterior briefly melted. He looked around at the well-dressed crowd and remarked, "It's cute, isn't it?" "Everyone is acting like they care about something bigger than themselves."

Isla's eyebrows raised. She quickly responded, "Perhaps some of us do care." "Some of us are trying to make a real difference; not everyone here was born into wealth."

The air was filled with tension as they exchanged words. Cameron's gaze swept across her, evaluating her with a mix of curiosity and laughter.

"Well, then, maybe you're in the wrong place," Cameron said, his voice silky and smooth. "My dear, compassion is not the basis of this world. It has to do with power.

Isla's heart raced as she tightened her jaw. Something about him-his unwavering confidence, his icy indifference-shook her, though she wasn't sure if it was his words or his presence. However, she couldn't deny that there was an unexplainable magnetic force and an odd allure there.

With a voice hardly audible above a whisper, she said, "I think I'll take my chances," before stepping back and making her way to the bar. The raw, indisputable pull between them, however, was too strong for her to ignore.

Isla thought she saw something change in Cameron's eyes for a brief moment. It was more than just a pleasant moment. It was a moment of darkness.

Even though it was brief, it was sufficient.