Saved By The Millionaire par E.L Shorthouse

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Saved By The Millionaire
Saved By The Millionaire

Saved By The Millionaire

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I have been broken since a young age. I was raised by a mother with an addiction, one who didn't know how to love or care for anyone. She always told me I wasn't worth anything, and if someone tells you that enough, then you start to believe it. I started down a destructive pass in my early teens, one I have never stopped. I hit the drink, started taking drugs and fell into relationships with men who treated me like shit because I convinced myself I didn't deserve better. I thought my life would finally change when I started a new job as a stripper and fell in love with a man who treated me like a princess, but it didn't last long. He became abusive and possessive, taking away every penny I made. I couldn't leave because I had nowhere to go. He knew that and used it to make sure I stuck around. He stole any confidence I had left and, just like my mother, convinced me I wasn't worth it. I came to terms with the fact that my life wasn't going to get any better. But, in one moment, in one night, everything changed in the shape of a man I didn't know. He appears out of the shadows of darkness and becomes a hero I didn't think I needed. I always believed I didn't deserve to be happy, to have someone take care of me in every way, but Blake soon shows me I was wrong. WARNING: There is talk of abuse in this book, physical and emotional, and it also does happen, but not frequently or in detail, so if offended or triggered in any way with either of these, please don't read because I don't want to offend or upset anyone.

Douceur
D'Amis à Amants
Passionné
Romance
Steamy
Contemporain

Chapitre 1

Jun 25, 2024

Blake

I step out of my apartment building, shuddering at the cold air hitting me. It is a cold night in Chicago. I am heading to meet a few of my friends at a private club; members only are allowed. We go every weekend. It is our way of blowing off some steam after a busy work week.

I only take a few steps before I hear a female voice, and she sounds scared.

“Get off me!” she whimpers.

I glance around, trying to work out where the sound is coming from because it is evident she is in distress. I see two figures across the street. I could see a man, quite a big guy, tall and muscular, pinning a woman to the wall.

I rush over, noticing his hand holding her face roughly.

“I warned you not to embarrass me, you stupid bitch.” The anger in his voice is unmistakable.

Who the fuck does he think he is, treating a woman like this. Not on my watch. I grab him, pulling him away from her. He swung at me, but I ducked out of the way. He tries again but fails because I punch him hard, and he hits the ground with force.

“Stay the fuck down, you piece of shit.”

There is nothing I hate more than abusers. I know first-hand the consequences of living with an abuser. My father was a bastard.

He didn’t listen and returned to his feet, “It has nothing to do with you.” He snarls.

Rather than diving at me, he goes for her, but I jump in front of her, blocking his access to her. I could hear her crying from behind me.

I see his fists clench at his sides, and his breathing becomes louder, “Move out of my way.” He hisses.

“Not happening. I would advise you to walk away because if you don’t, I will not be held responsible for my actions.” I threaten, standing my ground.

“Whatever. She isn’t worth it. Find somewhere else to stay. I am done with you, you stupid slut.” He laughs evilly, looking at her like she was nothing over my shoulder.

I want nothing more than to knock the coward out. He walked away, chuckling. The guy seems like a psycho. I turn to face her, and the tears are streaming down her cheeks. There is a brokenness in her beautiful brown eyes. I notice she has a busted lip and a black eye.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly.

I know it is a stupid question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“I am used to it,” she shrugs, “But no, because I have nowhere to stay or any money since he keeps it all.” she whimpers.

She is chittering which isn’t a surprise since it is cold out here. A pair of shorts and a tank top cover her tiny body. She must only be 5’4 and rather skinny. I take my jacket off, draping it over her shoulders.

“I live right across the street if you want to come in. You can warm up,

and I can make you some hot chocolate if you like?” I suggest. I don’t want to leave her out here alone.

“I don’t even know you. You could be anyone.” She replies, uncertain.

I completely understand why she seems weary, not only because of what just happened but also because I am a complete stranger to her.

“Hello, I am Blake Simmons. I live in the apartment building on the top floor across the road. I promise I am not a bad man. Will you please come inside?” I ask again.

“Chloe.” She says simply.

“It is nice to meet you, Chloe.” I smile, offering her my hand to shake.

She hesitates for a second but smiles back, taking it, and I gentle shake hers.

Once we part, I encourage her to follow me across the road and into my building. I can sense she is still on edge. I lead her to the elevator, and she isn’t saying a single word. She is too busy looking around. I press the button, letting her enter first when it opens.

“This is a fancy building.” Her words finally break the silence.

“Yes. I have stayed here for three years now.” I smile.

She nods, resting against the wall and doesn’t say another word. The ride to my floor felt like it was taking forever, but we finally came to a stop.

“My place is at the end of the corridor,” I say, but again, she doesn’t say anything.

I let us into my place, and she stands awkwardly by my front door, glancing around. It is a loft apartment, spacious and open, planned with a great view of the city. The spare bedroom and the bathroom are the only ones separate from the rest of the apartment. It is a bachelor pad which I am sure she can see because it is obvious there isn’t a woman’s touch in the place.

“Chloe, you can sit down and make yourself comfortable,” I nod towards the sofa, “And I will put the kettle on. Do you want hot chocolate, coffee or tea?”

“Um, hot chocolate, please.” She smiles, heading over to my sofa to sit down.

I stroll to the kitchen, texting my friends to let them know I won’t be joining them after all. I don’t give any details of my reason. I decided rather than use water to make her drink. I will warm up some milk.

I poured enough milk into a jug for the two of us because I would have one, too and prepped the mugs.

“Do you want marshmallows or cream?” I always have both with mine, but I don’t know if she likes them.

“Marshmallows, please, no cream.” She answers.

I make our drinks, re-joining her in the living room. She has her knees to her chests, hugging them and lost in her own little world.

“Here you go.”

Chloe looks up at me, the same sadness filling her eyes, but it is clearer to see in the light.

“Thank you, not only for the hot chocolate but for coming to my rescue. You didn’t need to do that. Most people would have walked by.” Sadly, that is more accurate than people realise.

“I would never walk by.” No decent person would.

“I honestly appreciate it because with the mood he was in, god knows what he would have done when we arrived home.” She whimpers.

“Does he hurt you a lot? Is he your boyfriend?” I keep my voice gentle because I don’t want her to think there is any judgement here.

“Yes, he is my boyfriend, and it happens frequently.” She whispers but then turns away from me, focusing on the mug.

I take the hint she doesn’t want to talk anymore about it. I won’t push; it isn’t my place to do so.

Chloe takes a sip of her drink, her hands shaking.

“Are you still cold?” she answers with a nod.

I excuse myself from her and go to my bedroom. I find the most oversized hoodie I own, taking it back to her, “Put this on.”

She takes it from me, pulling it over her head, “Thanks.”

Silence comes between us. Chloe loudly sighed, running her fingers through her long, wavy, purple hair.

“Chloe, what is wrong?” I question, concerned.

“Trying to think of somewhere I could stay. I don’t have anyone or any money, not a single penny to my name. Maybe Max will let me come home if I show up, apologise and make it up for him.”

There is no way in hell I am letting her go back there!

“Chloe, you have nothing to apologise for. He is in the wrong, not you. You can stay here. I have a spare room.” It is sitting there empty anyway.

“And what do I need to give you in return? Sex? A blow job?” she seems disgusted when she speaks.

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?” I am sure the shock is apparent on my face and in my voice.

“Because no one gives without taking.” She protests, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t want anything from you. I only want you somewhere safe and warm, Chloe, nothing more than that.” I promise.

“Why do you even want to help me, Blake? You don’t know me.”

“Because I watched my mother go through what you are for years, and I refuse to stand by and watch it happen to someone else,” I reply honestly.

Chloe studies me closely, trying to determine if I can be trusted, “Okay, thank you. I will be away first thing.”

“There is no rush. Stay as long you need.”

I don’t want her to think she needs to leave straight away. I have a feeling where she will go when she does leave here, and it is the last place she needs to be.

“I don’t want to be a bother. Max will probably call tomorrow.” She shrugs.

“Chloe, I know it isn’t any of my business, but you need to stay away from him. He is no good for you, and you deserve better.” I state firmly.

“You have no idea about me or my relationship, Blake. It isn’t always bad.” I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or me.

“No, I don’t, but one thing I do know is that you deserve a man who will treat you right and take care of you all of the time, not only when he feels like it.” I am probably overstepping, but I wish someone were there to tell my mom these things.

“Can we drop it, please!” she snaps.

“Yes. Sorry.” I sigh.

I don’t want to say too much in case it scares her off.

I didn’t expect my night to turn out quite like this, but maybe there is a reason for it. Perhaps I was supposed to show up when I did.

Saved By The Millionaire

Saved By The Millionaire

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