Claimed By The Billionaire

　　Elizabeth POV

　　I shouldn't have come.

　　I knew it the second we stepped out of the car and into the glittering madness of the Carlton Estate's annual masquerade.

　　From the chandeliers dripping in gold to the clinking glasses of champagne, everything about this place screamed wealth and status-two things my father cared more about than his own blood.

　　My dress clung too tight. The red fabric hugged my body in ways that made me uncomfortable, and the slit was high enough that I kept pulling it down without even realizing. Josephine, my not so loving step mother picked it.

　　"Try not to look so miserable," Jessica whispered next to me as we entered the ballroom.

　　"You already stand out for the wrong reasons."

　　I didn't respond.

　　Her golden gown sparkled under the lights like she belonged on display.

　　Which, in a way, she did. Jessica had been groomed for this world since birth. She knew how to charm, how to pose, how to make men look twice. I was just... there. Always in the frame, and never the focus.

　　We walked together, but it didn't feel like we were on the same planet.

　　The music swelled-violins, something classical and dramatic. Laughter echoed from the far end of the ballroom. Waiters in black tuxedos carried trays of champagne and caviar. Everyone wore masks, but it was easy to tell who had real power and who was just pretending.

　　"Why are you staring like you're in hell? It's just a party,"

　　she'd said, looping her arm through mine like we were sisters who shared more than just blood.

　　"Do not embarrass us."

　　"Sure" I said, nodding my head and slipping away.

　　I paused near the edge of the crowd, just close enough to seem present but far enough to be ignored.

　　That was my role.

　　"Elizabeth," my father's voice cut through the air like a knife.

　　I turned slowly. He barely looked at me, just a flicker of annoyance behind his mask.

　　"Try not to embarrass us tonight," he muttered.

　　"I didn't even say anything," I replied.

　　"You don't need to. Just being here is a risk."

　　I clenched my teeth. "Then why bring me?"

　　His mouth tightened. "Because appearances matter. Now smile. Someone important might be watching."

　　I gave him a smile, sharp and fake, then walked away before he could say more.

　　I wasn't here for him. Or his desperate attempt to stay relevant in a city that devoured men like him for sport.

　　I was here because it was the only way to disappear in plain sight ,just another masked body in a sea of excess.

　　I made my way to the bar tucked at the side of the room. I needed something strong, something to make this night blur around the edges.

　　The bartender glanced at me. "What can I get you?"

　　"Vodka," I said. "Neat. Don't go light please."

　　The first sip burned. The second made my shoulders loosen just a little.

　　I glanced up from my drink, my fingers tightening around the glass. People danced and talked, some were laughing. No one looked out of place. No one stared.

　　But the feeling stayed inside me.

　　I finished the drink in one sharp swallow and stood, the floor tilting slightly under my heels. Maybe I needed to move. Lose myself in the noise.

　　I walked toward the dance floor, winding through the crowd of glittering dresses and black tuxedos, ignoring the way people barely shifted to make room for me. I didn't belong here. I never had.

　　The music was loud, some sensual string of rhythm that wrapped around your waist and tugged you into movement.

　　Couples swayed, hands pressed too low, bodies too close.

　　I stepped into the center, letting the music drown everything else.

　　My eyes closed.

　　I felt someone stare on me.

　　I didn't expect to catch his attention.

　　The man in the shadows.

　　He was watching me across the room, his drink untouched, there's something about his presence, it's unsettling.

　　He wore a dark mask, black suit.

　　There was something dangerous about his presence, something that made everyone else seem like background noise.

　　I should've looked away. If possible

　　run.

　　But I didn't.

　　When he moved toward me, the crowd parted like they felt him coming and when he reached me, I felt him brush against me, his warm hands at my waist but I didn't flinch.

　　I let them stay.

　　My skin tingled.

　　He didn't say a word. Not like he needed to. Even with his mask, his eyes pinned me like a secret.

　　Like he knew I didn't belong here. Like he knew I didn't know who I was when I wore this dress and red lipstick.

　　"Come," he said. Just that one word. His voice was deep and rough.

　　My heart skipped.

　　I should've said no.

　　But I followed.

　　He took my hand, led me off the floor.

　　Through the hallway. We stopped outside a door, and he pulled a key card from his pocket like he owned the world.

　　The room was dark and quiet. It smelled of leather and liquor. There was a couch and a bar.

　　He closed the door behind us.

　　Click.

　　The sound echoed louder than the music outside, like the world had gone quiet just for us.

　　We entered the room, and without a word, he sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving me. It was as if he was waiting for me, and the command in his eyes made everything in me tighten.

　　"Come here," he said, his voice low and thick with control.

　　My legs moved before my mind could catch up. I stepped toward him, slow and uncertain, my heart thundering so loud I swore he could hear it.

　　When his hands found my waist, strong and sure, a sound rippled through me. He pulled me between his legs, holding me there like he'd done it before. Like he knew what I needed before I even did.

　　For a moment, he just looked up at me. Not at my body. At me.

　　And for the first time in a long time, I felt seen, not as Harper's invisible daughter, not as Jessica's shadow, but as a woman.

　　A woman he wanted.

　　And God! I wanted him too.

　　But I shouldn't.

　　This wasn't me. This wasn't what I did.

　　I'd come here to disappear, to let go, not to let a stranger unravel me in some shadowy bedroom.

　　I hesitated. My breath caught.

　　I should've stepped back.

　　I should've said no.

　　But instead, I stood there, frozen in his grip, heart pounding, torn between fear and something far more dangerous. Desire.

　　His eyes never left mine.

　　He didn't push, didn't beg, he Just waited.

　　Like he knew I was fighting something I'd already lost.

　　And then he kissed me.

　　Hard.

　　Nothing about the kiss was gentle. His mouth slanted over mine, hard, rough and greedy, like he'd been starved.

　　His hands slid up my back, holding me in place as his tongue swept into my mouth, tasting, taking, owning.

　　By the time he pulled away, I was breathing, dizzy.

　　Then, without a word, he pushed the straps off my shoulders and tugged my dress down to my waist.

　　Pulled the cups of my bra down to bare my breasts. And then he just stared like he was memorizing every inch of me.

　　He leaned in and captured a nipple in his mouth, white light shot behind my eyes. His hand slid into my hair while the other squeezed the fullness of my breast, while he licked and sucked the other.

　　He switched to give them equal attention.

　　Slapped the side of one to watch it jiggle. With a rough sound, he nipped at it like he was angry, like he was trying to imprint himself on my skin forever.

　　My eyes rolled back into my head, my pulse throbbing between my legs. If he didn't stop, I thought I could come just like this.

　　He played with my breasts until I was so far gone I would do anything to feel him inside me—anything.

　　A voice inside me screamed to stop.

　　But the louder voice, the one deep in my chest, begged me not to.

　　Because for once, I wasn't being judged. Or compared. Or used.

　　I was just... wanted

　　Desperate, I reached down and fumbled with his belt buckle, pulling him out. He was hot and heavy in my hand, and so hard I couldn't resist pumping him in my fist once.

　　I didn't know a dick could be this huge in real life, I thought they only existed in the smut books I read online.

　　He hissed against my throat. He gripped my hips and pushed me down until I was halfway onto his length.

　　He groaned.

　　I gasped.

　　He's so huge. It hurts too much.

　　"Oh Fuck" he moaned. "You're so tight and soft, made perfectly for me baby"

　　Little did he know this was my first.

　　He moved slowly inside of me almost as if he was trying not to hurt me.

　　I kissed his neck while he pumped into me mercilessly from below. Fast and hard and deep. I thought I'd break in half, but I couldn't have loved the feeling more. I felt so full. Feeling myself already start to climb higher, I touched my clit wanting to get there faster. Needing to. I rubbed circles on myself, bucking wildly ontop of him, moaning and loving the sounds we made together.

　　"Such a good fucking girl" He bit into my shoulder, sending me over the edge and into the stars behind my eyes. I screamed while he thrust into me harder and faster, like a man who hadn't know softness in years.

　　"FUCK!" he grunted, spilling himself inside of me.

　　The room was quiet now.

　　The music outside was a faint thud behind the walls, like a memory trying to claw its way back in. My skin was slick with sweat. My thighs ached. My heart? I wasn't sure it still worked the same.

　　He lay back on the bed, one arm thrown over his head like he couldn't be bothered. Like I was already forgettable.

　　Maybe I was.

　　I slipped off the bed, the hem of my dress twisted at my waist, my heels long gone. My legs trembled as I bent to gather my things, bra, purse, dignity. I didn't look at him. I couldn't.

　　I couldn't believe I just lost my virginity to a stranger.

　　My hand was on the door when I heard his voice, low, lazy, unreadable.

　　"You don't even want a name? Not a face?"

　　I paused.

　　I wanted a lot of things. A name wouldn't fix any of them.

　　"No," I whispered. "I just want to forget."

　　And then I left the room, stumbling on Jessica.

　　"Oh. My. God!," She squealed.

　　"What?," I tried to act oblivious.

　　"I followed you. I know what you did. Didn't think a saint like you would fuck around with random men."

　　"He was my first time."

　　"Yeah, right. Like I'd believe that," she mocked, rolling her eyes.

　　"Please don't tell Dad."

　　"Oh, I was planning to hook you up anyway. Paid some bucks to mix a little something in your drink. I won't tell unless you do."

　　It all made sense. I only had a glass but I already felt tipsy, funny, hot.

　　I didn't know whether to be livid with anger or grateful she won't tell.

　　"Thank you," I forced myself to speak, walking away from the smirk on her face.