She Sat At The Wrong Table On A Blind Date — But The Billionaire Refused To Let Her Leave
A Collision of Worlds
The confession hung between them, raw and honest. Grace could see the weight of it on his shoulders—the exhaustion of being Marcus Sterling, billionaire, rather than just Marcus.
“What do you want?”
she asked.
Instead of answering with words, he kissed her. The kiss was everything a first kiss should be: soft, tentative, a question rather than a statement.
When Marcus pulled back, Grace’s eyes remained closed for a heartbeat longer, savoring the moment before reality crashed back in.
“I should go,”
she whispered, even as her body swayed toward him.
“Should and want are very different things,”
Marcus murmured, his hands still framing her face.
Before Grace could respond, his phone rang, sharp and intrusive in the garden’s tranquility. Marcus ignored it, but it rang again immediately, then again.
“You should answer that,”
Grace said, stepping back with obvious reluctance.
Marcus pulled out his phone; his expression darkened as he looked at the screen.
“It’s my father. I have to take it.”
Grace said:
“I’ll be over by the fountain.”
She walked away to give him privacy, but his voice carried in the quiet night air.
“What do you mean he’s threatening to pull out?”
Marcus’s tone had shifted completely. This was the billionaire businessman, not the vulnerable man who just kissed her.
“No, absolutely not. We’re not giving him another cent. I don’t care what promises were made.”
Grace tried not to listen, focusing instead on the garden’s beauty, but she could hear the tension escalating in his voice. When she glanced back, Marcus was pacing, one hand running through his hair in frustration.
“Fine. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. But this is the last time, Dad. I mean it.”
He ended the call and stood there for a moment, shoulders rigid with tension. When he turned to Grace, his expression was apologetic but determined.
“I have to go. There’s a situation with—”
He paused, seeming to weigh his words.
“My father made some promises he couldn’t keep. Again. If I don’t fix this tonight, we could lose a major development deal.”
“The Tokyo meeting you canceled?”
“Different disaster. This one’s more immediate.”
He moved toward her, taking her hands.
“Come with me.”
“To a business emergency at 11 at night?”
“To see who I really am. The good and the bad.”
His gray eyes were intense.
“Most people only want to see the success, the polished version. But if this—whatever this is between us—has any chance of being real, you should see all of it.”
Grace knew she should say no; she had to be up in 6 hours. But something in his expression, a vulnerability mixed with determination, made her nod.
The Shadow of Sterling
The ride to the Sterling Enterprises building was tense. Marcus made three phone calls, each more heated than the last. Grace watched the city blur past, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
This wasn’t her world—these midnight emergencies, these multi-million dollar disasters. The building’s lobby was all marble and glass, empty except for security guards who nodded respectfully as Marcus strode past.
The executive elevator shot them up to the 40th floor, opening onto a reception area that screamed money and power. Voices were coming from a conference room—angry voices.
Marcus squeezed Grace’s hand.
“You can wait here if you prefer.”
“I’ll come with you,”
she heard herself say.
The conference room was chaos. Papers covered the massive table, five men in expensive suits were arguing, and at the center of it all stood an older version of Marcus.
He had the same sharp features and gray eyes, but with silver hair and lines carved by years of hard living.
“Finally,”
Marcus’s father said, slurring slightly.
“The golden boy arrives to save the day.”
Grace could smell the whiskey from across the room. Marcus’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained level.
“Gentlemen, if you could give me 5 minutes with my father.”
The suits filed out, shooting curious glances at Grace. When they were alone, Marcus’s father collapsed into a chair.
“Don’t start, Marcus. I know what you’re going to say.”
“Do you? Because I’m running out of ways to say it, Dad. You promised Yamamoto exclusive rights to the waterfront development—rights we’d already sold to the Brennan Group.”
“A misunderstanding.”
“A lie,”
Marcus corrected sharply.
“You were drunk at the country club, trying to impress your golf buddies, and you made promises with my company’s reputation.”
His father’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“Your company, boy? I built Sterling Enterprises from nothing.”
“And then you nearly destroyed it.”
Marcus’s voice was quiet but devastating.
“You drank away our contracts, gambled away our credit, and if Mom hadn’t begged me to come back from college to fix it, we’d have lost everything.”
“Your mother never understood business.”
“My mother understood that business means nothing if you lose your integrity in the process.”
The older Sterling noticed Grace then, his bloodshot eyes narrowing.
“And who’s this? Another gold digger looking for a piece of the Sterling fortune.”
“Careful,”
Marcus warned, his voice dropping to something dangerous.
“Actually, I’m a teacher,”
Grace said, stepping forward. She’d dealt with enough difficult parents to know that sometimes direct was best.
“And I was just leaving.”
“No,”
Marcus said quickly.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“A teacher?”
His father laughed, ugly and mocking.
“That’s rich. What’s the angle, sweetheart? Pretending you don’t care about money? That act might work on my son, but—”
“Enough!”
Marcus moved between Grace and his father.
“Grace, would you mind waiting outside? This won’t take long.”
She nodded, grateful to escape the toxic atmosphere. But as she reached the door, she heard Marcus’s father say something that made her freeze.
“She’s nothing like Victoria, you know. At least Victoria came from the right family, understood this world.”
“Victoria understood money,”
Marcus replied coldly.
“Which is why she’s currently married to that pharmaceutical heir in Boston.”
“At least she was honest about what she wanted. This one, playing the innocent teacher…”
