Tipping The Billionaire: His Runaway Lover

The brass doorknob was freezing against Alida's palm, but the ice in her veins was colder. She stared down at the floor of the Greenwich Village apartment. A pair of black lace panties lay tangled with a familiar blue polo shirt. Deron's shirt. The one she had ironed for him yesterday. A heavy, wet sound leaked through the crack of the bedroom door. A low groan. A high-pitched, breathy giggle. Bile surged up Alida's throat, burning like battery acid. Her stomach violently contracted. She didn't cry. The shock was too absolute, paralyzing her tear ducts and turning her muscles to stone. She took a sharp breath, the air scraping her lungs, and shoved the door open. It hit the wall with a loud crack. The two bodies on the bed froze. Krystal let out a piercing shriek, scrambling to pull the white duvet over her bare chest. Her eyes darted to Alida, but the panic in them quickly morphed into a defiant glare. Deron whipped his head around. All the blood drained from his face, leaving his skin a sickly, ashen gray. "Alida," he stammered, his voice cracking. "It's not... wait, let me explain." Alida's spine locked into a rigid line. Beneath her skin, her heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, tearing at her chest. A primal urge to scream, to tear the room apart, clawed at her throat. But she bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, forcing the hysteria down. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of her tears. She dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that crescent moons of broken skin formed. Only then, with her emotions violently suppressed, did she force her hands to remain steady as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She raised the camera. Click. Flash. Click. Flash. Click. Flash. The harsh white light strobe-lit their naked, terrified faces. "Are you insane? !" Deron roared. He lunged off the bed, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor, reaching for her phone. Alida side-stepped with clinical precision. Deron's momentum carried him forward, and he crashed hard onto his hands and knees, panting like a cornered animal. Alida looked down at him. Her chest was tight, a physical band of iron squeezing her ribs. She shifted her gaze to the nightstand. A piece of paper sat next to a half-empty glass of water. The fraternity crest was printed at the top. She walked over, her heels clicking methodically, and picked it up. "Target: Alida McGowan," Alida read aloud, her voice devoid of any human warmth. "Bounty: Fifty thousand dollars. Condition: Full submission." The words tasted like ash in her mouth. Deron scrambled to his feet, sweat beading on his forehead. "Alida, please. That was a joke. A stupid frat joke. I love you." Krystal let out a harsh laugh from the bed. "Oh, please. You're a boring, frigid prude, Alida. What did you expect him to do?" Alida turned. She closed the distance between them in two strides. She raised her right hand and brought it down hard across Krystal's cheek. The slap echoed like a gunshot in the small room. Krystal shrieked, clutching her face, a red handprint instantly blooming on her skin. "I'm calling the cops! You psycho!" Alida held up her phone, the screen displaying the high-definition photo of them tangled in the sheets. "Call them. And I'll hit send. The entire alumni network will have this in their inboxes before the dispatcher picks up." Krystal's mouth snapped shut. She shrank back against the headboard, her bravado evaporating. Alida pivoted back to Deron. She held out her empty hand, palm up. "The fifty thousand," she said, her voice flat. "Now." Deron stared at her, his jaw dropping. "Are you out of your mind? You're a gold-digging bitch!" "Consider it compensation for emotional damages," Alida said, her eyes dead. "My father needs surgery. You treated me like a whore for a bet. Pay up, or the photos go viral. Your corporate internship will be gone by morning." Deron's chest he heave. He looked at the phone, then at Alida's unblinking eyes. His psychological defenses crumbled. He cursed, violently kicking a discarded shoe across the room, and stomped over to his leather briefcase. He yanked out his leather-bound personal checkbook from the side compartment. His hands shook with a mixture of terror and fury as he uncapped a pen and hastily scribbled out the amount, tearing the slip of paper from the spine and shoved it toward her, his eyes burning with hatred. Alida snatched the paper. She unfolded it, her eyes scanning the hastily scrawled numbers and the signature. Fifty thousand dollars. She folded it neatly into a perfect square and slipped it into the inner pocket of her purse. She zipped it shut. The slow, deliberate motion was a physical slap to his face. "Get out," Deron spat, pointing a shaking finger at the door. "I never want to see your face again." Alida turned and walked to the doorway. She paused, looking back at the two of them. "You deserve each other," she said, her voice dripping with pity. "Trash belongs in the dumpster." Krystal screamed in rage, grabbing a pillow and hurling it. It bounced harmlessly off the doorframe. Alida stepped into the hallway and grabbed the heavy apartment door. She slammed it shut with every ounce of strength she had. The boom rattled the pictures on the walls. She walked fast toward the elevator. Her vision blurred. A hot tear spilled over her lashes, burning her cold cheek, but she kept her spine perfectly straight. The elevator doors slid open. She stepped inside and stared at her pale reflection in the mirrored wall. She clutched her purse against her chest, feeling the stiff paper of the check. She needed to numb the pain. She needed a drink.