Page 14 of Rescued By My Small Town Billionaire

Round tables draped in deep navy linens are accented with my floral centerpieces—bold red roses, golden lilies, and sprigsof eucalyptus, all arranged in elegant glass vases. Seeing them in place fills me with pride.

A spacious dance floor at the center of the hall, polished to a shine, is already filled with people swaying to the soft music playing from the live band in the corner.

The evening is a whirlwind of laughter, music, and conversations. Maggie Ann’s desserts are a hit, and Ellie flits around the room, no doubt planting matchmaking seeds wherever she can. I find myself relaxing, the stress of the past few weeks momentarily fading as I enjoy the event.

I feel stunning in my soft dress that flows as I move.

But no matter where I go, I feel Mike’s eyes on me. Every time I glance his way, he’s watching me with an intensity that sends my heart racing. It’s not just the pretense—it’s something more, something real.

We circulate through the crowd, greeting familiar faces, and thanking guests for supporting the firefighter fundraiser. But soon enough, I find myself dragged to the dance floor by Lulu and Ellie, laughing as they twirl me around.

Mike watches from the sidelines, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he pretends he’s above all the dancing nonsense.

That is until I march over and pull him in.

“Mike Thorn, if I have to be on this dance floor, so do you.”

He grumbles, but when I give him a pleading look, he sighs, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

Then he surprises me—pulling me in close, one arm firm around my waist, his other hand threading through mine as he expertly leads me into a slow, easy dance.

“Mike,” I whisper, eyes wide, “you can dance?”

He laughs, his breath warm against my ear. “Sweetheart, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

We move effortlessly, my heart pounding not from the dance but from the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing in the entire room.

Laughter, music, and the soft glow of candlelight surround us, but all I can think about is how, for the first time in a long time, I feel completely and utterly safe.

Just as Mike is about to say something—something that makes my heart stutter in anticipation—his fellow firefighter Burt appears at his side, face set in something serious.

“There’s someone outside asking about Becky,” Burt says in a low voice.

The warmth of the moment vanishes instantly.

I stiffen in Mike’s arms, and when I look up at him, I see it in his expression—protectiveness, worry, and something darker beneath it.

“I’ll be right back,” Mike says. His expression hardens, and he excuses himself, his jaw tight as he strides toward the exit. I watch him go, a flicker of unease settling in my chest.

After a few minutes, I step outside, hoping there’s no real issue. But the cool night air isn’t as refreshing as I’d hoped.

Then I hear a voice behind me, sharp and unwelcome.

“Becky.”

I whirl around to see Paul stepping out of the shadows, his expression dark and angry.

Before he can say another word, another voice cuts through the tension.

“She said leave her alone.”

I turn to see Mike standing a few feet away, his eyes locked on Paul with a look that could stop anyone in their tracks.

Relief floods through me as Mike steps closer, his presence solid and unyielding.

Paul glares at Mike but doesn’t argue. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and disappears into the night, leaving me trembling.

Mike doesn’t say a word. He just stays close. And right now, that’s enough.

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