THE BILLIONAIRE'S COLD DEAL

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Samantha POV

"Another glass of alcohol, please."

The words slipped from my lips as my head tilted back helplessly.

"Another..." I smiled faintly, pain slicing straight through me.

They say alcohol heals all wounds, but I guess mine is far too deep for it to touch.

When I look back at my life, I honestly wonder how I ended up this way. Where did that vibrant little girl, full of dreams and hope disappear to? How did my life become a stronger mess with each passing day after the death of my parents?

It's been five fucking years, and I, Samantha Williams still haven't healed.

Somehow, I blame myself for their deaths. If I hadn't insisted on celebrating my birthday at the beach, they wouldn't have gotten into that accident. They wouldn't have died so brutally.

We weren't rich, but we were comfortable and happy. My parents could get me anything I wanted without feeling the weight of it. We never struggled to eat. Food was always in excess, and their little shop was steadily growing.

After their death, I took over the business and worked my ass off to keep it alive. But life was cruel. Two years later, the shop burned to ashes, and since then, my life has been nothing but chaos.

"I said another round of alcohol... or are you deaf?" I smiled sleepily again, jolting back to reality "Why don't you listen? Do I need a microphone to make myself clear?"

I slammed my palm against the table, the loud thud echoing through the club.

"Don't frustrate-"

"Here, ma. Sorry for the delay," the waiter interrupted, placing the glass in front of me.

I looked up at him and smiled weakly.

"That's more like it. Good boy."

"You shouldn't be that loud. This isn't your house." An agitated voice came from behind me.

I turned slowly, surprised by the sudden interruption. The club was always loud, so why was he taking my actions so personally?

"Why would you hit the table that hard?" he continued. "You startled me, and everyone else." A few people nodded in agreement.

The flashing disco lights reflected in my eyes, shutting me mute for a moment. Then anger surged.

"You don't complain about other people's misfortune, you stupid man," I snapped. I wasn't in the mood to take it easy on anyone.

"Excuse me?" he scoffed, standing up. "You're the one in the wrong here, so don't bite more than you can chew." Did he really want a fight?

His face twisted with anger and bitterness, a clear reflection of what lay beneath his heart.

Who did he think he was?

I looked at him briefly before letting out a humorless chuckle.

"So this is what this club is filled with now? Harassment?"

I stood too, my legs shaky but my rage steady. I was ready to land a punch across his face, ready to make him pay for dipping his mouth into things that didn't concern him.

I staggered toward him. But before I could reach him, his palm connected with my face. The slap landed hard.

I crashed to the floor, my body hitting the ground cheaply and pathetically. The crowd erupted into laughter, their gazes piercing straight into my soul.

"What's so funny about another person's misfortune?" I cried, my voice breaking. I hadn't expected the slap. I hadn't expected the humiliation.

"Do you know the pain I carry in my heart?" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "It pierces me every single day!"

"I think she's too drunk. She should go home," a woman said dismissively.

"Young lady, go home. You can't even stand on your own," a man offered, reaching out to help.

I shoved his hand away.

"Fuck off. I don't need your mockery, or your help."

I tried to stand again, but my legs failed me. My chest tightened as memories of what happened this evening came crashing in like an unwanted visitor.

"Take your stinking bags and get the hell out of my house!" my landlord had yelled, throwing my belongings out like trash.

I rushed after him, my body drenched in rain. The rain had seen more of me than comfort ever had.

"You removed my zinc, isn't that enough?" I begged.

He turned to me, his eyes filled with disdain.

"And yet you still stayed here like a rat," he sneered. "I've had enough of you, Samantha. I can't keep putting up with this."

He threw my last bag into the rain.

"Shut the door. Let's see how she gets in," he ordered the hefty men beside him.

I tried to stop them, but I was no match.

"Go get a life, useless slut," he spat before walking away, leaving me alone under the heavy rain.

After minutes of crying under the rain, I knew I had to do something. I picked my bags and hid them behind a trash can before heading to the clubhouse, where I am currently drinking myself to stupor.

I know after now I have to return to the streets, and that alone pierced my heart. I had no family or friends to turn to. I have been living in isolation since my parents death.

As I sat there, drowning in my thoughts, I wished a miracle could happen, something that could change my life for good, but I chuckled. "That only happens in movies." I would definitely return to the streets and live a poor and haggard life.

"Don't you know how to treat a woman?" a deep voice cut through the chaos, snapping me back to the present.

The music in the club stopped abruptly, and silence followed.

The spotlight quickly shifted. And then I saw him.

He was tall, huge, and fearful. He stood firmly, his presence alone forcing the entire room into stillness.

"Adrian Wolfe..." The name rippled through the crowd like a forbidden prayer.

"That's him, the richest and most powerful man in the whole of NYC. I have only seen him on billboards and TV shows. I never knew I would see him in reality," a girl behind me whimpered in pure astonishment.

"That's really him."

"Oh my God..."

Women whispered in awe, their eyes shining with fantasies they didn't even bother hiding.

He stepped forward, his gaze sharp as he looked at the man who had slapped me.

"Are you okay?" His voice was calm, but dangerous as he stared at me. I nodded calmly, unsure on how to behave.

He smiled and turned to the man who has harassed me. He shoved the man aside effortlessly, sending him crashing to the floor.

I stared up at him, my breath caught in my throat. And for the first time that night, the pain paused.