Page 6 of Big Billionaire

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, my stomach fluttering with a familiar heat, my skin prickling under the weight of his attention. I’m beyond embarrassed to be feeling this way toward my ex-boyfriend’s dad, a man twice my age. But I can’t help it. Not when he’s this close. Not when he’s looking at me like…that.

“You danced well tonight,” he says finally, his voice deep and smooth. “The way you held that arabesque…the fluidity of your port de bras. Most dancers your age rush their transitions. You don’t. You breathe through them. It’s rare.”

I blink at him, startled by the precision of his words. By how much he noticed. “You…know a lot about my dancing.”

A flicker of something—amusement?—crosses his face. “I’ve been watching you for a long time.”

My breath catches.

“You remind me of a firefly,” he says, his tone softening just enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Bright. Impossible to ignore. Meant to be caught, but too elusive to hold without breaking.”

I don’t know what to say. My lungs feel too tight, my thoughts too tangled. Being this close to him is overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

And he’s still holding my hand.

The silence between us stretches, heavy enough to press on my chest. I can’t seem to pull my gaze from his, but the longer it goes on, the more my pulse races. I don’t know what to do with myself or the heat curling low in my stomach.

I clear my throat and ease my hand back, turning toward my locker just to have something else to focus on. The metal door screeches as I pull it open, then something slips out and flutters to the ground.

It’s a card.

Not the kind you give someone for their birthday, but a thick, black rectangle with jagged silver edging, almost metallic in the light. There’s no name on the front, just a small crown engraved in deep crimson at the center. The sight of it sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.

I bend to pick it up, my fingers trembling. Damien shifts behind me, his presence so close I can feel the heat of him, but all my attention is on the weight of the card in my hand.

My heart thunders as I pry it open.

Inside, scrawled in sharp, uneven ink, are four words.

Watch your back, princess.

A cold rush floods me, my vision blurry, and I swallow hard, trying to push down the wave of nausea rushing up my throat.

It’s not just the words…it’s the way the letters lean, aggressive, like they were carved instead of written.

And suddenly, I feel like I’m in the middle of a nightmare. This was supposed to be a spotlight night for me.

How did I get here?

“What’s that?” Damien’s voice comes from directly behind me, low and commanding.

I had almost forgotten he was there.

I straighten a little too quickly, snapping the card close. “It’s…nothing.”

“Lena.” The way he says my name…so softly. It sends a wave of calmness down my burning nerves. He steps closer, his heat wrapping snugly around me. “Let me see it.”

There’s no point arguing. My fingers loosen, and he plucks the card from my grasp, his gaze dropping to the message.

His jaw tightens.

The muscles in his forearm shift as he flips the card over, then back again, scanning every detail like he’s memorizing it. When he finally looks up, there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, controlled, but enough to make my stomach dip.

“Any idea who put this in there?”

Logan.

“I—I don’t know,” I stammer, ignoring the thought in my head. “It must have been slipped into my locker while I was onstage.”