IN LOVE WITH MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS (He Is Betrothed, But Mine)

CHAPTER ONE

Finally, I am graduating.

I bounce my legs up and down happily as I wait for my name to be called.

“Olivia Macurry.” at the sound of my name, I am up and running towards the stage.

I can't believe this is happening to me, after everything I went through to be able to go to school. All my tears, sweat, suffering, it all led me to this one moment.

The moment I get my degree. With a big smile on my face, I walk forward.

“Congratulations Macurry” the Dean says, a permanent fake smile etched on his face. I nod, smile for the camera then head down the stage.

Unlike my other classmates, there is no one in the crowd for me. No one screaming my name or how proud they are to have me, no one is here on my special day.

Quickly shoving the feeling of crying down my pit, I pull off my beautiful charming smile. Today is a happy day. I refuse to think sad thoughts.

I am not much to look at just a normal waist length redhead with Hazel eyes, not like the hot girls I see around.

“LIV!!!” my dearest friend, Stacy Steven, screams from a mile away running towards me while jumping up in excitement.

“STACY!!!” I shout, running towards her.

We meet halfway, embracing each other at the same time squealing happily.

Stacy Steven has been my friend for over three years now. She is the only one I can say knows a lot about me. Even though there are some things she doesn't know, and it's not because she is not a good friend because she is.

I just don't like to share my private life. I mean it's my life, so I like to keep it to myself duh.

“We are done baby!!” she yells, waving her hands dramatically.

I laugh with her. We grab our caps, flinging it into the air as we jump.

“I am so happy!!!!” she shouts, dancing about.

“It's time to celebrate–”

“Umm…. Stacy, I have to get ready for work, so I am going to have to pass.” I whyne, swaying my hips left, and right.

She pouts sadly. Her parents called us over for some pictures. After taking numerous pictures with the family, I quickly headed home.

I work as a stripper at a club called ‘Pleasure’. It's a big club with a lot of dirt going on there. I mean it's not my best choice, but my only option for now.

I quickly change into simple jeans and top knowing that I would still change at work. My home isn't much to write about.

The bed is small, you only take about five steps or so in the room. My kitchen consists of only a small dove, beside my bed is a small stool, there is a small closet by the side of my bed which makes the room smaller.

The walls are painted dull gray, my bed sheet is gray, my stool is black, and most of my clothes are black and white.

Why? Because to me colors are emotions, and the only time I am not feeling numb is when I am angry or disgusted. So I have a few pairs of red, and green clothes.

Taking the leftover pizza, I ate it in a rush. Prying open my bedside drawer, I pull out my drugs.

Dammit, just the last dose.

And this is the reason I never have money for myself. I have to buy these stupid pills that are so expensive or else I won't be able to live.

Maybe I should just die. No one knows me, no one cares, no one will cry, no one will even notice. My body will probably be found decayed by the landlord who comes to ask for overdue rent.

I sigh heavily. Is this life really worth living?

No, bad thoughts are not needed. I need to stay alive for all the people I was created to touch their lives. It will get better.

Who am I kidding, it will never get better but it will definitely get easier.

Taking one last breath, I head out locking the door behind me.

“Olivia.”

I jumped in fear, startled to see the landlord standing right in front of me with a stern face, his pot belly protruding proudly.

“Hahaha, it's my favorite landlord.” I chuckle, smiling sweetly at him.

“I am your only landlord,” he says with a big scowl on his face.

Way to go stating the obvious.

“Your rent has been due for the past two weeks now.” he adds, folding his arms under his chest.

I shuffle from one foot to another, the floorboard creaking under my feet.

“Ah, yes I know about that. I am heading to work now, and I promise to have your money by the end of this week.” I plead, clasping my palms together.

I really hope he spares me.

“I really don't know what you do with all those money you earn as a hooker–”

“I am not a hooker.” I interrupt him, my face beaming with a fake smile.

“Whatever. The week ends tomorrow, have my money or I throw you out.” he snaps, looking at me from head to toes.

This man is literally fucking with his eyes. He has a wife and three kids, not to mention that he is old enough to be my father. Does his dick even still work?

“If you can't have my money, you know you can pay in—”

“I will have your money by tomorrow.” I cut him off, a smile still plastered on my face.

“You better.” he growls, and stomps away.

“Of course, bye!!” I giggle, my lips stretched into my beautiful smile as I wave at him.

It's not like his house is even something to call a house. The roofs are leaking, the walls are peeling, the toilet is so small you can't take two steps in it. It's a three storey building yet no elevator, and he still prides himself so much.

Well at least he owns a house unlike you. My subconscious snapped at me.

I scurry down the stairs with a smile still plastered on my lips even though I feel disgusted, and angry. Smiling is my coping mechanism, it's the only expression I am capable of showing.

No matter how I feel on the inside I am always smiling on the outside.

The ride to Pleasure doesn't take so much time. The smell of sex, drugs, alcohol hits me as soon as I step into the club.

Music is blaring loud, I navigate my way to the changing room as it is almost time for my show.

The changing room is filled with girls, some naked, some dressed, some doing their makeup.

I stare at myself one last time. I am dressed in a very short check skirt that has half my ass on display paired with a halter neck top bra with my knee length booth to go with it.

My face is made up with just mascara, red waterproof lipstick and eyeshadow.

“Let's give it up for Vixen.” The crowd goes wild at the sound of my stage name.

The curtain opens to reveal the stage in front of me with a pole in the middle.

I take slow strides to the pool, ensuring I look confident. The men are plenty as usual, because I am the most wanted stripper that stopped being a hooker yet I still dance.

Things like that are bound to draw men. I grab the pole, and start dancing.

I move my hips according to the song, my fingers move to my belly, down my legs, then I swing my hair back. That's when I see him.

The first thing that captivates me is his eyes, blue like the ocean. He is sipping a drink and his eyes roaming around my body as I move sexually.

The gaze is electrifying, I don't feel disgusted like I do when I see a man eye fucking me instead I feel heat rise between my legs.

My core throb just by the way he is looking at me. Fire burns through me, holding the pole tight I throw one leg behind it and spin my body.

My gaze stays firmly on his. His hair is tousled, shirt unbuttoned at the first two, his muscles flex inside his shirt.

He licks his lips, gosh those lips. I bite my lips imagining they were his. He folds his arms under his chest, making his muscles more defined than before.

Gosh, kill me now. I can feel the wetness pool between my legs.

Get a grip young woman.

I scold myself, forcing my eyes to look away. I finish my dance. The cheer of men fills my ears as I walk away, I can't help but look around and find his eyes once more.

He is staring at me. I duck my head and leave.

The feeling is electrifying, I slap my head repeatedly as I walk to the changing room, my legs wobbling a little.

This isn't an attraction, I am just horny. It's been almost two years since I last slept with a man.

Stop lying to yourself.

Throughout the months, I have never felt even a smudge of sexual arousal until I saw him. The blue eyed man.

I shake my head to get rid of unwanted thoughts.

I pray I make enough to pay my rent and get even if it's just a pack of my drugs. The money the men pay to watch my show is split into three, one belongs to me while the two belong to the madame.

Not fair, I know.

“Come in.” Madame's famous cold voice rings out as I knock on her office door.

I push the door slightly, walking into the room. Madame’s office is nothing out of the ordinary, everywhere is painted black and red.

Her desk is at the other side of the room behind her desk is a floor to ceiling window. Two couches are seated in the middle of the room facing a TV that I have never seen on.

I walk to her table to pick up the envelope placed on the table and count the money.

A thousand dollars.

It's a lot of money but not nearly half of what I need. My rent is about eight hundred, grocery is finished so is water, gas and light not to forget my drugs.

I usually perform just once in a week, sometimes two, but by the looks of it I am going to have to ask to come perform tomorrow.

“A man asked for you for the night.” Madame’s chill voice says, her head not raising from her laptop.

“I don't do that anymore Madame. We already talked about this.” I frown.

She stops typing, and raises her head when she speaks. It sounds scary, and cold.

“You think I didn't tell him that.”

“So—”

“He is offering to pay five thousand dollars for the night.” She cuts me off.

My eyes widened in shock.

What!!