The Billionaire s Heartbeat

The annual SnowCorp charity gala was the place to be, Manhattan's elite filling the heart of the

city with the tallest ballroom and its excesses. There were politicians, CEOs, and celebrities,

sipping champagne, mingling beneath crystal chandeliers, and chatting About power plays over

hors d'oeuvre. John Snow, CEO of SnowCorp, the host of the event was a man who thrives in

such an environment. He was dressed in a sleek, custom-tailored tuxedo, his eyes sweeping the

room coolly detached. At 33 years old, he had built a billion-dollar tech empire and was proud of

it and he wore it on his sleeve, maybe with a bit of arrogant swagger. Well nothing about him

was about what I expected, he was all about wealth, and a hell of a lot of it was earned.

One attendee stood apart in all the glitz and glamour. Standing in a simple, yet elegant dress

chosen more for modesty than for style, Emma Brooks eyes the grandeur of the occasion. As an

employee of a non-profit that provides donations for homeless families, she can only volunteer to

network with possible donors to help support her organization. Small fundraisers in community

centers were her thing, so events that were held in a high-rise building with marble floors, and

golden accents - she was not prepared for. She looked a little out of place, slipping through the

crowd quietly, as she reminded herself why she was there.

It was electric, as were their paths crossing. Emma happened to be on her way to the stage for

John's opening speech when he brushed past her. He had no idea and her elbow caught and

pulled him back with just a slight jolt. He turned, in preparations to ignore an overeager guest.

Instead, Emma's wide, startled eyes were flushed with embarrassment and met him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" 'Quickly' she said, her face turning a deeper shade of red, releasing his

sleeve. "I didn't mean to-"

John interrupted, his tone polite, but clipped, 'It's fine.' He flicked a gaze at her a bit more

broadly, noting her understated attire. Either she wasn't part of the usual crowd he played with,

or she reminded him of one of those customs he had heard about less often. He asked out of habit

more than out of interest, "Having fun?"

It was a wry smile Emma gave. "Well, it's... different. Well, I don't usually come to these kinds

of things." Immediately, John caught the slight tone of irony she spoke with.

"Different?" He raised an eyebrow. "I am sure this would be quite an event for most people."

She gave a light laugh. "I don't suppose I am 'most people,'" said he. She didn't appear to be