Entangled with My Billionaire Nemesis

My books scattered across the floor. Pain shot through my left shoulder where someone had slammed into me.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Let me help with your books," a male voice said.

I glared up at him, still gripping my shoulder. "Do you always pace around like a maniac?"

He bent down and picked up my bag without a word. When he handed it to me, something about his eyes caught my attention. Had I seen him before? Something about the way he looked at me felt… familiar.

"Yes, mom," he said, smiling.

The nerve of this guy. I snatched my bag and turned to leave, when his hand wrapped around my wrist.

"Let go—" I started, but he was already pulling me down the sidewalk. My stomach tightened. Who did he think he was?

"What the hell!" I tried to yank free, but he didn't stop until we reached a pharmacy.

I stared at the store sign. "You've got to be kidding me. It's just a scratch."

He walked inside like he owned the place. I followed, watching him grab an ointment and headed to the counter. There was something maddeningly familiar about him, something I couldn’t place.

When he reached for his wallet, I slapped my card down first.

He looked at me.

"I don't need your charity," I said firmly. "I can take care of myself."

His expression didn’t change. He just watched me with those unreadable eyes. My chest tightened. Why did he make me feel so small and unsettled at the same time?

I grabbed the ointment and headed for the door. His hand caught my wrist again.

"Look—" I whirled around.

He snatched the ointment from my hand, guided me to a chair, and pushed me down into it. Not roughly, but with enough authority that I obeyed without thinking.

His eyes dropped to my crop top, then back to my face.

I sighed and pulled the fabric down my shoulder. The skin was angry and red.

"What are you made of, steel?" I muttered under my breath.

A small smirk crossed his face as he opened the ointment. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

I wanted to snap at him, but something held me back. Why did I feel like I knew him? Why did my pulse insist on racing even though I wanted to hate him?

"Funny," he said quietly. "I heard you shut down your company because you were dying or something. But you seem pretty alive to me. Lots of energy for someone who's given up."

I shoved him away and yanked my top back up. "How do you know about that?"

"So you can't handle a breakup and you just disappear?" His voice was calm but cutting. "What about your customers? The people who depend on you? Is that how you run a business?"

My face burned. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you didn't build a company from nothing just to let it fall apart because some guy broke your heart."

He placed the ointment in my hand, his fingers warm against mine.

"Nobody's coming to save you, Cherry. You need to save yourself."

"Fuck you," I whispered, my hands trembling slightly.

He stepped back, that infuriating smile still on his face. The breeze caught his hair, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Damien," he said. "Damien Haurts. You'll be seeing me around. Remember that name."

Then he walked away.

I stood there, ointment in hand, watching him disappear around the corner. Damien Haurts. I wanted to hate him. But his words kept echoing in my head. My chest ached, and for the first time in weeks, I felt… unsettled.

The walk home felt endless.

“Nobody is coming to save you.”

I pressed my hands over my ears, but the words wouldn’t stop. A couple walking past stared at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.

He was right. Luna had been trying to tell me the same thing. I'd spent two weeks hiding in her apartment, ignoring calls, letting my business crumble. What was I doing?

For the first time in weeks, I saw myself clearly. And I didn’t like what I saw.

"I'm so proud of you," Luna said the next morning, practically glowing as she watched me get ready for work.

I'd told her everything last night. The stranger, the pharmacy, what he'd said. She'd laughed so hard she cried, then made some joke about "fate" and "meant to be."

She dropped me off with a pep talk and a hug.

I stood outside my office building, took a deep breath, and walked inside.

My desk was buried under papers. My email was a disaster. I had three missed deadlines and angry clients.

"God, I'm such an idiot," I muttered, sinking into my chair. My shoulders felt heavier than usual, weighed down by exhaustion and embarrassment.

"Hi," a voice interrupted my thoughts, and I remembered I needed a new secretary too.

Slowly, I lifted my lashes and opened my eyes, blinking once… twice… as if my mind was playing a cruel trick on me.

But no.

It wasn’t a trick.

Ken stood right in front of my door like he had every right to be there.

My stomach tightened instantly, and my fingers curled into fists. Of all people… him?

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped, my voice colder than I intended.

Ken’s expression shifted, nervous, almost desperate.

"Please, Cherry, hear me out." He stepped inside like he had every right to be here.

Heat flooded my face. This man, this lying, cheating bastard, was the reason I'd abandoned my business. The reason I'd fallen apart. My chest burned with a mix of anger.

He pulled out some papers and placed them on my desk. "I drafted a contract. You'll get thirty percent of everything I own when we get married. Please, Cherry. Marry me."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you insane?"

"Just think about it—"

"Get out of my office right now, or I'm calling the cops!" I shot to my feet, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.

His face twisted with rage. "You bitch! Thirty percent isn't enough for your gold-digging ass? I told Ray this wouldn't work, but he insisted I come here—"

"Gold-digging?" My voice shook with fury. "You cheated on me! I don’t even know if I should call it cheating at this point, since I was the third wheel. You weren’t even into me. You deceived me! And now you have the audacity to—”

I was about to unleash hell on him, to remind him exactly who he was talking to—when movement behind him caught my attention.

A familiar figure stepped in through the glass doors. My heart skipped a beat.