The Billionaire's $500,000 baby

Liora’s POV "Out," Xavier said. He didn't even wait for me. He stepped out into the rain and opened an umbrella that looked like it cost more all my belongings…oh I don’t even have any I followed him. My shoes hit the pavement with a wet, squelching sound. Squish. Squish. It was annoyingly embarrassing. I tried to walk on my toes to stop the noise, but that just made me stumble. I clutched my father’s satchel against my chest. It was the only thing I had left that wasn't ruined. I hoped the leather and few clothes was thick enough to keep the rain off the notebook inside. If that got wet, I’d have nothing. Truly nothing. We walked toward the main entrance. The doors were massive slabs of glass that slid open before we even touched them. I stepped inside and stopped dead. The lobby was huge. It was all white marble and silver accents. It smelled like expensive perfume and ozone.  It was so bright it made my eyes ache after the darkness of the car. And the people… oh God. There were men in suits that looked like they were sewn onto their bodies. Women in dresses that belonged in magazines, walking on heels so thin they looked like needles. Everyone was beautiful. Everyone was perfect. And then there was me.  I caught my reflection in a silver pillar and almost choked. I looked like a disaster. My pink diner uniform was soaked through, the fabric clinging to my stomach and thighs in all the wrong places. There was a mustard stain on my collar that I’d forgotten about. My hair was matted to my head like seaweed.  I was shivering so hard my teeth were actually chattering, a loud, rhythmic click-click-click that felt like it was echoing off the marble walls. I looked down. I was leaving a trail of muddy water across the floor. A literal trail of filth in a place that looked like a temple. A woman at the front desk looked at me. She was wearing a headset and had a bun so tight it probably pulled her eyebrows up. She didn't look away. She just stared. It wasn't a mean stare, which was worse. It was a look of pure, clinical confusion. Like she was trying to figure out how a piece of trash had blown in through the vents—RUDE! "Keep moving," Xavier whispered. He didn't even sound embarrassed, he sounded bored…I mean why would he? Xavier was used to this. He belonged here. "Everyone is looking," I whispered back. My voice was thick. I wanted to cry again, but I remembered what Xavier said about the steel core,I forced my chin up.  Think about Mom, I told myself. Think about the heart monitor. Screw these people. But I didn't feel like a person of steel. I felt like a mistake. I stepped over a velvet rope, my wet shoe making a loud thwack on the stone. A man in a grey suit stepped to the side to avoid me, pulling his briefcase close to his leg like I might infect him. I felt a surge of hot, messy anger. I wanted to tell him I didn't want to be here either. I wanted to tell him my mother was dying and his briefcase didn't matter. But I didn't say anything. I just kept walking. "Xavier," I said, my voice shaking a little. "How much longer? The hospital alert... it’s been five minutes since I checked." "If you stop talking and start walking, we’ll be there in sixty seconds," he said. He didn't slow down. He was gliding across the floor while I was struggling to keep up. I saw a security guard touch his ear and look at us. He started to move forward, his hand on his belt, but Xavier didn't even look at him. He just held up a small gold card. The guard stopped instantly. He actually bowed his head a little. The power of the Volkov name was like a physical weight. It opened doors. It stopped guards….It even bought people—I mean,look at me. We reached a bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby. These weren't like the others. They were tucked away behind a wall of frosted glass. There were no buttons on the wall.  No "Up" or "Down."  Just a single, gold-plated door. Xavier pressed his thumb against a small pad on the wall. A blue light scanned his print. Ding. The doors slid open. The inside of the elevator was lined with black velvet. There was a small bench and a mirror. I looked in the mirror and immediately looked away. I couldn't stand to see myself next to Xavier. He looked like a prince. I looked like something the cat dragged in during a flood. I stepped inside. The air was cool and smelled like mint. "Is this it?" I asked. "The penthouse?" "The top floor," Xavier said. "Darian doesn't like neighbors." The doors closed. I didn't feel the elevator move. There was no stomach-dropping sensation. The only way I knew we were going up was the digital display above the door. 10... 20... 40... 70...   My heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst through my ribs and my palms were sweaty, even though I was freezing. I started to second-guess everything. Maybe I should have just stayed at the hospital. Maybe I could have found a way. A loan? A miracle? No, I thought. There are no miracles for girls like me.  90... 95... 99... The elevator slowed down. I felt a sudden, sharp urge to vomit. I gripped the strap of my satchel so hard my knuckles turned white. "Liora," Xavier said. I looked at him. "Remember what I said. Don't be a puddle…He’s looking for a reason to say no. Don't give him one." "I know," I said. But did I? I didn't even know who Darian Volkov was. Not really. I knew he was rich. I knew he was Sergei’s son. I knew he was the man who had the power to kill or save my mother with a single phone call. The elevator made a soft, melodic chime. The doors didn't open into a hallway. They opened directly into a room. The penthouse office was vast. It was darker than the lobby, lit only by the glowing city lights outside the massive windows. The floor was dark wood, polished to a mirror shine. The air was heavy with the smell of rain, expensive leather, and something sharp…like ozone or scotch. It was silent. Completely silent. I stepped out of the elevator, my wet shoes making a miserable slop sound on the wood. I felt the cold air of the room hit my damp skin, and I started shivering again. At the far end of the room, behind a desk that looked like a solid block of black stone, a man was standing. Or rather, he was a silhouette. He was facing the window, his back to us. He was tall. Broad shoulders. He was wearing a black suit that seemed to drink in the shadows around him. He was looking out at the rain, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn't move. He didn't acknowledge that we had even entered the room. I stood there, dripping on his floor. I felt like a stray dog. I wanted to speak, to beg him to call the hospital, but my throat was frozen. I just stared at his back… Ten seconds passed. Twenty. The tension was so thick I could taste it. It felt like the air before a lightning strike. I looked at Xavier, but he was just standing there, looking perfectly at home. He didn't seem bothered by the silence at all. Finally, the man at the window moved. He didn't turn around. He just tilted his head a fraction. "You're late," he said. His voice was deeper than I expected. It wasn't loud, but it filled the entire room. It was cold. "The traffic was difficult, Darian," Xavier said smoothly. "And we had to make a stop at the asset's residence." "The asset," I whispered. The word felt like a slap. Darian Volkov turned around. The light from a desk lamp hit his face, and I forgot how to breathe. He wasn't just a businessman. He was a weapon…His eyes were the color of the North Sea in winter…grey, blue, and utterly heartless. His face was all sharp angles and hard lines. He was beautiful in the way a storm is beautiful. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Darian Volkov was hot. He even didn't look at Xavier. He looked at me. His gaze traveled from my matted hair down to my stained uniform, all the way to my wet, muddy shoes. He looked at me like I was a bug he was considering stepping on. There was not even an ounce pity in his eyes. There was no kindness. There was just an intense, cold evaluation. I felt a surge of shame. I wanted to hide behind Xavier. I wanted to cover myself up. I felt so small, so dirty, and so incredibly out of place. "This is her?" Darian asked. He made it sound like I was a disappointment…Like he’d ordered something online and it had arrived broken. "Liora Hayes," Xavier said. Darian walked around his desk. He moved with a slow, predatory grace. He stopped a few feet away from me. He was so tall I had to crane my neck to see him. He smelled like expensive wood and something metallic. He leaned in, just a little. I could see the flecks of ice in his irises. "You look like you're about to fall over, Liora," he said. His voice was a low growl. "I'm... I'm fine," I lied. My voice cracked. He didn't believe me. He reached out, and for a second, I thought he was going to touch me. I flinched. His hand stopped in mid-air, his fingers inches from my face. He pulled his hand back and tucked it into his pocket. "Xavier says your mother is dying," he said. He said it like he was commenting on the weather. No emotion, No weight. "She... she needs the surgery," I managed to say. "The alert... the hospital..." "I know about the alert," Darian said. He poured an amber liquid into a glass. "I know everything. I know your father was a failure and I know you have twelve dollars in your bank account,I know you're desperate enough to do anything I ask. He took a sip of his drink and looked at me over the rim of the glass. "The question is," he said, "are you worth the trouble? Because right now, you look like a liability." I felt a spark of that messy anger again. I was tired, I was wet, and my mother was dying. I didn't have time for his games. "I'm worth it," I said. My voice was stronger this time. "I'm here, aren't I?" Darian smirked, It wasn't a nice look. It was the look of a man who had just won a bet he didn't even care about. "We'll see," he said. He walked back to his desk and sat down and he didn't even offer me a chair. He just picked up a thick leather folder and slid it across the obsidian surface. "Open it," he commanded. The folder hit the edge of the desk with a heavy thump. "This is your life now, Liora. If you sign those papers, you don't belong to the world anymore. You belong to me." I looked at the folder. I looked at the man behind the desk. The elevator doors behind me had closed. There was no way out. "Open it," he said again."