Page 3 of The Billionaire's Gamble

“You're really going for it?” Paul asks, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and surprise.

"Why not, I…" I let my voice trail off as a move catches my attention from the corner of my eyes. My brows deepen as I watch a stocky man with thinning hair stagger in her direction. Somehow, I can smell his filthy intentions all the way from the ground floor.

“Fucking bastard,” I mutter under my breath, springing out from my chair. I noticed the look of shocked curiosity on Paul's face, but I didn't wait to be questioned.

I hurry towards the stairs, my gaze never leaving her. Downstairs, I push through the crowd, a surge of rage buildinginside me as I see the bald creep getting aggressive. I reach her just as the creep roughly closes his hand over her wrist.

“Hey!” she protests, trying to jerk her hand away.

“Get off her!” I growl, yanking him off her with a forceful cuss. My grip tightens on the collar of his shirt, every muscle in my body tensing as I glare into his ugly face. I pull my free hand into a fist, barely resisting the urge to punch the bastard in the face.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he slurs, but before he can get another word out, I calmly signal to the bouncers. They arrive in seconds, dragging the drunk idiot away, his protests drowned out by the music.

And then I turn around to face her. For the first time that night, I see her face fully and the breath is knocked out of me. It’s her.Hannah.

How does she look just like I remembered and yet so different?

Her beautiful golden curls have grown longer, cascading down her back in luxurious waves. Her features are more refined, carrying an elegance and maturity that only time can bring. There's a certain depth in her eyes, a glimmer of resilience that wasn't there before. It enhances her beauty, making her even more captivating.

“Are you alright?” I ask, searching her face. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no” she mutters, still looking a bit shaken. “I'm fine.”

She raises her eyes to mine and I feel my breath catch in her throat. I don't remember her eyes being so sparkly, so…captivating. They’re the most beautiful shade of green and I can feel myself getting lost in their swirling depths.

“Thank you so much for interfering,” she continues, her soft, shimmering lips tugging slightly in a grateful smile. “I was terrified for a moment there.”

Hearing her say that, I regret not giving in to the urge to punch that drunk bastard in the face. I should have beat him to a bloody pulp and made him regret laying his filthy hand on her.

Reining in my anger, I force my lips into a forced smile. "I'm glad you're fine. Anyway, my name is Dean. Dean Sterling," I say, holding out my hand to her. "Pleasure to meet you."

She hesitates for a moment, and I hope it’s because she recognizes me.

She slips her hand into mine, her lips curving into a full, heart-melting smile. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Sterling."

Her hand fits perfectly in mine and I can't help but wonder what it'd feel like to hold onto it forever.

Woah! Slow down, Sterling.

“Call me Dean.”

"Dean," she repeats as if testing the name on her tongue. "I'm Hannah Gordon."

Hannah Gordon, the woman who has haunted me for the last four years. Who I have always wished to see again.

Of course, she doesn't remember me; she'd never use the word 'nice' to describe me if she did. It's understandable though… It'sbeen four years and to her, our encounter was probably a distant memory.

I let her go back then, but I don't intend to make the same mistake again. Not when fate has brought her back to me. She's mine.

“I… Uh…” she trails off, clearing her throat awkwardly as a soft blush creeps up her face.

I follow her gaze, glancing down to realize her hand is still in mine. Her skin is soft and warm, the air between us charged electric. When I look back up, her blush has deepened, her cheeks a delicate shade of pink that only makes her more enchanting.

I tighten my hand around hers, feeling the subtle tremble in her fingers, and tug her gently into my arms. She comes willingly, her body pressing against mine, fitting perfectly as if she were made to be held by me. Her flowery scent crowds my head, teasing my senses and for a moment I almost give in to the crazy urge to ravish her right there and then.

Steeling myself against the lust thrumming in my veins, I lean forward slowly and whisper in her ear, “Dance with me, Hannah. I know you love to dance.”

Chapter Two

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