Page 6 of Craving My Baby Daddy Billionaire

I step out into the night with a deep feeling of satisfaction. The air is cold and crisp, and the city glows brightly around me. From here, it's a short walk to the subway, and then I'll be back in my own bed, surrounded by vintage clothes and the scent of old fabric. The streets are quiet and empty—and sure, that might freak many people out, especially being a girl all alone—but this is my home.

I start walking with a happy sigh, slipping my phone into my coat pocket. There's the subway station under a flickering white light. I head for the stairs and—

Someone grabs my purse from behind, and I'm jerked suddenly backward, holding on tight to the strap. I whirl around and find a guy in a mask and hoodie, one hand on my purse, the other on a...

...on a knife.

Fuck.

Fuck.

If it were any other night, I might just let him go—but I'm running low on cash right now, I need to pay rent, and my purse is absolutely full of tips from high-dollar members at the White Oak. I snarl and jerk my purse back, making it clear I mean business, and the guy slashes at me with the knife, catching me in the arm.

I don't even feel the cut.

I need that cash.

"Let me go!" I scream.

"Give it over, bitch!" the man replies. "Or I'll—"

I grapple for my keys with my free hand, raising it up and unleashing a huge spray of mace into the guy's face. He lets out a shrill scream and drops the knife, and I lunge for his weapon, holding my purse tight to my chest as the mugger staggers back.

"That's fucking right!" I yell, pointing the knife at him. "You'd better fuck right off and never come back here."

I take a threatening step forward, and the mugger bolts, sprinting as fast as he can away from me. I'm small, sure, but I'm a New Yorker through and through, and I don't let anyone fuck with me like that.

And I'm...oh God, I'm bleeding.

I look down at my arm to find he clipped clean through the sleeve of my coat—and maybe it's the adrenaline, but I'm more annoyed by the fact that I'll have to repair my coat than anything else.

I'm still standing there in shock, holding a knife in one hand and mace in the other with my purse clutched to my chest when I hear the sound of an engine and tires screeching to a halt. I turn around and see a white truck pulling up on the side of the road, and I peer at the vehicle in confusion.

Suddenly, Ryan Wright gets out of the white truck...my white knight, a little too late.

"Holy shit, Sophia?" he says, his eyes darting around. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say. "Just...ah—"

I grip my arm, pain lancing through me as my brain catches up with where the mugger cut me. Ryan comes closer and takes my arm, looking down at the blood with a furrowed brow.

"Damn it, I'm going to have to get this dry-cleaned," I mutter.

"You just got mugged, and that's what you're worried about?" Ryan asks, barking out a laugh in disbelief.

"Well, it's a vintage—"

"Did they take anything else?"

"No," I say. "I fought him off. But...ow."

"That does it," Ryan says, putting his arm around me. "I'm taking you to the ER. We can file a police report there."

"I can't afford an ER visit—"

"I can," he says, walking me over to the passenger side of his truck. "I don't want anything happening to you—let's go."

"Okay," I mumble, leaning against the seat and holding my arm tight to my chest as Ryan gets in. "Just...drive fast, okay?"

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