Billionaires Desire

way below

---

It was still dark outside when Desiree slipped out of bed, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she padded silently through the house. The moon cast a soft glow over the backyard, illuminating the still water of the pool. She stood at the edge, staring down into the reflection, the quiet solitude of the night wrapping around her like a blanket. Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation with Ariella, the tension between her and Atticus, and the unspoken things that lingered in the air.

She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until she felt the warmth of his body press against her back. Atticus’s hands found her waist, pulling her close, his chin resting on her shoulder. His breath was warm against her neck as he murmured, "Couldn’t sleep, could you?"

Desiree’s heart gave a little flutter, though she kept her expression calm, leaning back slightly into him. "Something like that," she whispered, her eyes never leaving the shimmering water.

His grip on her waist tightened just a fraction, enough for her to feel the possessiveness in his touch. "You shouldn’t be out here alone." His voice was low, husky, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curving up as she tilted her head just enough to glance at him. "Why? Afraid I’ll run off?"

Atticus chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her shoulder. "I wouldn’t let you go far."

The playful banter hung in the air between them, but beneath it, there was a tension—an unspoken understanding of what neither of them had put into words. Desiree turned slightly in his arms, just enough to face him. His hands remained on her waist, grounding her, holding her in place.

"Why do you care so much?" she asked, her voice soft, almost teasing.

His gaze flicked to hers, intense as ever, as though he could see straight through her. "Is that a real question?"

She didn’t answer, just held his gaze, waiting. Atticus leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Maybe I care because I can’t stop thinking about you," he murmured, his words sending a rush of heat through her.

Desiree’s breath hitched for the briefest of moments before she regained her composure, her lips twitching in a subtle smile. "You don’t seem like the type to get attached."

He smirked, his thumb gently brushing against her side. "Maybe you’re just underestimating me."

The tension between them simmered, a silent pull that neither of them could ignore. But before Desiree could respond, Atticus stepped back, breaking the moment. He looked down at her with that same intensity, but there was something deeper, something more vulnerable in his eyes that he didn’t often let surface.

"Come back inside," he said quietly, his hand slipping from her waist, but not before his fingers lingered for just a second too long. Desiree gave him a knowing smile, following him back into the house, the air between them thick with something unspoken yet undeniable.

---

A week had passed, and the situation with Ariella’s family had worsened. Their financial troubles had spiraled out of control, and Anthony had been clear in his refusal to help. “I honestly couldn’t care less,” he had told Ariella bluntly when she had approached him. He’d been cold, indifferent, the sharp contrast to Atticus’s calculated quietness.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. A few days earlier, Ariella had tracked Anthony down at an exclusive nightclub, hoping to sway him into helping her family. She had coaxed him into drinking far more than he usually would, feeding him drinks as they sat in a secluded corner. Eventually, in his drunken state, Anthony had taken her to a high-end hotel, his inhibitions completely gone. He had shown interest in her, and before the night was over, they had ended up in bed together.