The Billionaire's Tracker Trap

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A massive hand slammed down over mine, trapping the astronomical check underneath it.

All the air vanished from my lungs.

The plan was supposed to be absolutely bulletproof. I played the ultimate stage-five clinger to this billionaire heir, successfully securing the massive payout his mother threw at me to disappear.

But right this exact second, the "boyfriend" I was supposed to have safely dumped was standing directly behind me.

His towering frame boxed me in, completely swallowing my personal space. His searing breath, heavy with a lethal kind of danger, brushed against the shell of my ear before his long fingers clamped viciously around my jaw, forcing my head up. "I was wondering why you suddenly gave up the chase."

"You dare use me as your personal ATM? You are going to pay a devastating price for this stupid little stunt, Cleo." The words scraped out of him in a dark, gritted whisper, his hard chest rising and falling violently against my back.

Chapter 1

I watched with my own two eyes as Kingston's motherthe matriarch of a massive billionaire empireclicked her limited-edition designer heels and pulled out check after check filled with staggering numbers, paying off several gorgeous girls who tried to cling to her son.

She would always tilt her chin up and say in an impossibly arrogant tone, "Take this one million dollars and disappear from my son's sight forever."

The girls rarely flinched. In this money-hungry world, a million bucks wasn't even enough to buy a high-end luxury apartment in the Upper East Side of Manhattan or Beverly Hills.

Besides, hooking up with a billionaire heir meant securing way more cash than a measly million.

But then his mother would drop the hammer. "If you keep suffocating my son, I will make sure you vanish without a trace."

I froze, the serving tray heavy in my hands.

The girls would freeze, too.

I actually wondered if she meant a literal mob-style hit.

But their tears would just spill over. They'd grip that million-dollar check like a lifeline until their knuckles turned white, jutting out their chins in fake defiance. "Fine, I'll go!"

Then they'd usually whip out their phones, call Kingston, and snap, "I'm never bothering you again! Go find whoever you want!"

I worked as a waitress at an ultra-exclusive, strictly members-only private club. Even though the tips seemed like a massive fortune to a broke college student, I was still just a penniless nobody constantly one step away from sleeping on the streets, crushed under the weight of insane Ivy League tuition and next month's rent. And that was just my easy side hustle.

Staring at those crying girls, and then glancing back at that obscenely wealthy, impossibly arrogant billionaire mother, a brilliant and absolutely insane money-making scheme quickly took shape in my brain.

As soon as I got back to campus, I downloaded the business school's class schedule.

I sprayed on some cheap perfume I bought from a discount supermarket and grabbed a neon sticky note I ripped off a pad from the convenience store.

I wrote this billionaire heir the most painfully cheesy, aggressively straightforward love note. I even went online and copied paragraphs of trashy confessions from those bestselling junk-food romance novels, trying to fake the persona of an obsessed fangirl dying of love for him.

When I got to his lecture hall, class hadn't started yet, but the room was packed.

Since it was a massive auditorium, I had to scan the crowd for Kingston.

He sat in an exclusive corner in the very back row of the tiered classroom. Surrounded by his equally wealthy frat brothers, they were carelessly murmuring about next weekend's private yacht party or scrolling through their trust fund statements.

I silently took a second to appreciate the view. His entire crew was drop-dead gorgeous, making them the most wanted targets on campus for hookups. But they rejected everyone without a second thought.

Kingston himself was breathtaking. Built like a Greek god. That face was a lethal weapon, the kind of brutal perfection that punched the air right out of your lungs.

I ignored the warning glares from everyone around him and dropped right into the empty seat beside him. His long fingers instantly stopped typing on his laptop. He turned his head, stabbing me with an icy, fiercely territorial stare that completely suffocated the space around me.

My pulse hammered violently against my ribs.

Rumor had it his temper was vicious. But I also heard he didn't hit women.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice out. "Hey. Is this seat taken?"

Chapter 2

He ignored me, his long fingers continuing to fly effortlessly across his keyboard. I deliberately unzipped my jacket, exposing the cheap but skin-tight dress underneath. I purposely tossed my long hair to one side, trying to force my cheap supermarket perfume to aggressively invade his breathing space.

I leaned in, dropping my voice to whisper my introduction right by his ear. He didn't even blink, radiating the freezing, unyielding energy of a solid glacier. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the people around us stealing glances. Their stares dripped with pure disgust, practically grabbing popcorn as they waited for my inevitable, spectacular crash and burn.

When the lecture finally started, he actually stopped typing to listen. I discreetly slid that neon sticky note confession over, slipping it between the pages of his textbook.

He threw a sharp side-glance at me and went right back to ignoring my existence.

I lowered my voice. "Kingston, I'm totally obsessed with you."

His jaw tightened. He arched a single, mocking eyebrow, shot me a look of absolute disdain, and smoothly shifted his body an inch further away from me.

For the next little while, I acted like a complete stage-five clinger. Wherever he went, I followed.

When he had early morning seminars, I showed up with breakfast. Then I shadowed him straight into the lecture hall. When class ended and he headed back to his ultra-luxury penthouse, I shamelessly trailed right behind him.

A few times, I bumped into his family's private housekeeper coming by to collect his designer laundry. I leaned against the doorframe, acting like we were already family.

"Hey, you here to grab Kingston's laundry? I can wash his clothes from now on. You really don't need to come back."

The housekeeper completely ignored me.

I turned to the billionaire heir. "Your family's charity work is seriously impressive, hiring deaf-mute staff like that."

His frat brothers absolutely loved me. Why? Because I was constantly stocking their luxury fridge with snacks and drinks.

Plus, I frequently went out of my way to wait in line for those wildly popular, limited-edition Philly cheesesteaks from that food truck off-campus. That truck had a massive line every single day, and you literally couldn't get your hands on one without putting in some serious physical effort. But these spoiled trust-fund babies would never stoop so low as to fight a crowd for street food.

Because of my aggressive food deliveries, I practically had a VIP all-access pass to their penthouse. I even tidied up the place.

After the housekeeper hauled the laundry away, the heir apparent would crack open his sleek laptop and dive into his work. I just sat next to him, quietly watching.

Yeah. He barely acknowledged I was alive. Every single time, I just camped out beside him, silently staring.

Luckily, he was absolute eye candy. And every time I imagined his wealthy mother eventually shoving a million-dollar check in my face to make me screw off my mood instantly skyrocketed.

Sometimes I'd poke the bear. "Don't you get bored acting like a robot? I'm a great singer. Want me to sing for you?"

"No," he clipped out, his voice dripping with ice.

"Want me to tell you a story then?"

"No."

"Fine, then I'll just tell you about myself. You can't just know absolutely nothing about the girl trying to lock you down"

Then, completely steamrolling over his harsh rejections, I'd rattle off a heavily embellished list of my best qualities. "Honestly, we're a perfect match. You're six-foot-three, I'm five-foot-three. When we stand next to each other, people will totally swoon over the height difference."

"Plus, rumor has it I'm the hottest girl in my major. Anywhere we go, people are going to be green with envy. Oh, and look at youyou literally never speak, and I talk enough for both of us. We're going to be so insanely balanced when we're officially together."

Sometimes, I'd toss in some absolute highlights from my life. "My teacher actually praised an essay I wrote back in elementary school. Guess why?"

His finger paused on the trackpad for a fraction of a second. Then he went right back to scrolling, shutting me out completely.

I let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. "Because it was good! Hahahaha!"

His jaw clenched, his features twisting into a look of disgust that clearly screamed: That wasn't even remotely funny.

"You know what I say when professors ask to share a hidden talent?"

A muscle ticked in his tightly clenched jaw, radiating pure, barely contained irritation.

"I tell them I'm practically a psychic because I can already see us getting married! Hahahaha!"

Chapter 3

"I had a classmate in high school who bragged about having crazy long leg hair, hahahaha."

"Hey, do you have hairy legs? I heard guys with too much leg hair go bald early. Want me to check for you?"

He pointed at the door. "Get lost."

I would also ask him, "What do you want to eat? I will go grab it for you."

That was literally the only time he acknowledged my existence. He would actually pause, think about it for a second, and place his order.

The food spots around campus were insane. Good enough that even the laziest, half-comatose college students would drag themselves out of bed just to fight for a meal.

During the lunch rush, I braved the scorching sun to hit up the most insanely popular Mexican food truck on the corner, grabbing massive portions of tacos and burritos. I marched straight back to their ultra-luxury penthouse, lugging two overstuffed brown paper bags.

The concierge in the lobby would shake his head at me. I once heard him muttering, "Unbelievable. The absolute shamelessness of girls these days."

The second I kicked open the heavy double doors, Kingston's dark eyes locked onto me with freezing intensity. His long, knuckle-defined fingers tapped rhythmically against the mahogany desk, his tone absolute and unquestionable. "From now on, you only bring food for me."

His frat brothers instantly started howling in protest, complaining about the blatant favoritism. He told them to get the hell out.

The two of us ate at his massive desk. I felt like the progress bar on my little gold-digging mission had just ticked up another notch.

Honestly, our dynamic was bizarre. After a month of this routine, if you said he was easy to snag, you would be lying. It was brutally hard. He acted like he was selectively blind and deaf, only tuning in when he felt like it.

But if you said he was impossible? Rumor had it no one was allowed to sit within a ten-foot radius of him in class, yet I camped right next to him every single day, completely harassing him.

I even managed to carve out my own permanent spot in his penthouse. Like right now, I told him I wanted to binge-watch a show while I ate, and he just slid his impossibly expensive laptop over to me.

Sometimes, when a ridiculously trashy reality TV scene flashed on the screen, he would irritably loosen his tie and curse under his breath, "Damn it. This garbage is practically raping my retinas."

I would shoot him a look of absolute pity. "You are that uncultured."

I had a strict daily nap schedule. Once I polished off my food, I headed back to my own cramped dorm.

Right before I slipped out, one of his frat brothers gave me a conspiratorial wink and whispered that Kingston's birthday was coming up.

I decided I needed to stage a massively public, undeniable confession. This whole slow-burn routine was not going to get his mother to write that check anytime soon. Plus, he was totally treating me like free labor at this point.

Even though hanging around him was kind of fun. But honestly, that was mostly because I was fun. I practically ran a one-woman stand-up comedy show, entertaining everyone else and cracking myself up in the process.

But I had zero clue how to actually confess. I aggressively googled how to do a grand romantic gesture on a broke student budget.

Finally, I made a decision. The night before his birthday, I was going to sneak into the dead center of the university football field and arrange hundreds of cheap, discount-store candles into a massive heart, using neon powder to spell out our initials right in the middle.

It looked absolutely unhinged and brain-dead.

His frat brother, acting as my inside man, actually managed to drag him out there. Kingston looked at me, then down at the flaming pile of cheap wax, then at the massive crowd of students gathering to watch the circus act. Without a single ounce of hesitation, he turned on his heel and walked away.

"Wait, stay! There is a surprise!" I yelled out after him. Even I felt my face burning with pure, unadulterated humiliation.

Thank god the campus security guard showed up to save me from myself, blasting my entire romantic setup with a heavy-duty fire extinguisher. He muttered under his breath the whole time about broke kids making his life a living hell. I scrambled to help clean up the mess, whispering frantic apologies.

I honestly felt like Kingston was being a massive jerk. He could not even step into the circle for two seconds? I had literally fetched his food for a month straight. On the bright side, the stunt made me go totally viral on campus social media.

Chapter 4

Because the whole stunt went completely viral online, an unknown number called me the very next day.

I picked up. The voice on the other end claimed to be the personal assistant to Kingston's mother, saying the matriarch wanted a face-to-face meeting.

Jack-pot! I agreed immediately.

We met back at that same strictly members-only private club. She stared at me, her impeccably manicured brows pinching together in disgust. "So you're the little pest who keeps harassing my son?"

"Ma'am, that's a pretty harsh way to frame it. We are genuinely and deeply in love." I plastered on a look of absolute righteous devotion. "Nobody can tear us apart!"

She completely ignored my performance, sliding a crisp check across the mahogany table. "Here is one million dollars. Get away from my son."

I bit the inside of my cheek hard to suppress a wildly inappropriate grin, forcing a few pathetic tears to well up in my eyes. "But our love is real. He even told me he wanted to marry me."

The matriarch's face instantly twisted. She let out a sharp, frigid laugh.

"Marriage? Have you looked in a mirror lately? Do you honestly think someone of your pathetic standing is worthy of my son?"

"Ma'am, you can't say that. Your son is totally obsessed with me, so I must have some seriously undeniable charm."

She actually choked on her words for a second before snapping back. "If you agree to leave him right now and end this ridiculous charade, I will wire another million to your account later. Otherwise"

I dropped my head, playing the absolute tragic victim. "I'm not leaving him for the money. It's just a relationship without his family's blessing could never survive."

"Since that's the case, Ma'am, should we sign a legally binding NDA? You need to specify in writing that this is a tax-free gift."

Pure, unfiltered revulsion radiated from her features. "My family doesn't ask for change. Break up with him immediately and get the hell out of my sight."

"You got it, boss!"

I immediately dialed Kingston's number. I originally didn't even have his contact info, but I practically forced him to add my number and socials just to streamline his food deliveries.

Our chat history was a total disasterjust me aggressively spamming him with terrible dad jokes and creepy serial killer trivia, while he occasionally replied with a single, dismissive punctuation mark. But right around meal times, he miraculously remembered how to use his words to place an order.

The phone barely rang twice before he picked up. The second the line connected, his low, commanding voice vibrated through the speaker. "I want that hand-crafted black truffle cheeseburger for lunch."

That deep baritone still sent a ridiculous jolt of electricity straight down my spine. Honestly, if I had a son with a voice like that, I'd probably pay off the gold-digging vultures circling him, too.

But that burger truck was parked all the way on the opposite side of the business school campus. I'd have to ride my skateboard across three entire blocks and wait a solid thirty minutes baking in the scorching sun, because they were a massive hit with a strictly limited daily supply.

Considering he literally just publicly humiliated me in front of the entire campus, the absolute audacity to make such an outrageous demand was mind-blowing. What an unbelievable jerk.

I forced a dramatic sob into the receiver. "Food, food, food, that's all you ever care about! I am never bothering you again! We are officially over!"

I slammed my thumb against the end call button, completely blocked his number, and wiped his profile from my socials. I hauled ass out of there.

I sprinted straight to the nearest bank, practically vibrating with adrenaline as I tried to deposit the check into my pathetic little account. Then I smacked my own forehead. I forgot to ask for the account PIN for the wire transfer! Was this a total scam?

The exact second that panic set in, my phone buzzed. The matriarch's assistant texted me the six-digit code. Wow, I really judged them too harshly.

The second that million dollars hit my account, I immediately quit my miserable gig and started frantically submitting Ivy League business school applications. I originally dreamed of crossing social classes to get into a top-tier business program, but since I couldn't afford the sky-high tuition, I had given up.

Now that I had cold, hard cash backing me up, I went into total prep mode.

My roommate stared at me from across our cramped dorm, completely baffled. "Aren't you supposed to be relentlessly stalking that untouchable billionaire god from the finance department? Why are you suddenly rotting in the dorm studying 24/7?"

"Total dead end. I officially threw in the towel," I said, flashing a massive, shameless grin.

But the second I dropped the act and walked away, Kingston suddenly started popping up everywhere I went.

Chapter 5

Every time I spotted him on campus, I treated him like invisible air and immediately hauled ass in the opposite direction.

But his frat brother eventually cornered me. He claimed Kingston was just too ridiculously proud to apologize to my face, but that he didn't actually hate me. The guy even swore that if I just held out a little longer, I'd definitely lock down the title of their official crew girlfriend.

Every single guy in that penthouse acted like they were the alpha. Kingston was the only one who never bothered fighting for the titlebecause he was the absolute, undisputed king. The entire house answered to him.

I let out an exhausted sigh, totally deadpan. "Forget it. Forcing a puzzle piece doesn't make it fit. I'm officially dropping the chase."

His frat brother walked away looking like he had just swallowed a lemon.

I figured that was the end of it.

Two days later, Kingston strolled straight into my lecture hall and dropped into the empty seat right next to me.

My stomach plummeted. Total panic spiked through my veins. What if his mother had spies watching me? She'd absolutely think I was breaching our contract.

He yanked irritably at his tie, his towering frame completely blocking my escape route. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. "I'm damn sorry about that day. I just absolutely loathe being stared at like some zoo animal by those idiots."

Wait, what?

He was actually apologizing to me.

I immediately dropped my voice and whispered my own apology. "I made a massive scene and completely ambushed you. I should be the one saying sorry."

His eyes widened slightly. "If you know it was your fault, why did you ghost me? You're acting like I'm the one to blame."

Excuse me?

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper, barely swallowing down the urge to tell him to go to hell. I just whipped my head away and completely shut him out.

Since he wasn't exactly a talker to begin with, he just sat there in stiff silence when I stopped responding.

After a few minutes, the tension was giving me a headache. I finally caved. "What are you even doing here? You're a finance major. This class is completely useless for you."

His long fingers carelessly flipped the page of the textbook outlining prenuptial asset agreements. He let out a cold scoff. "Might come in handy later."

When the lecture ended right around noon, he turned to me. "Want to grab food?"

I stared at him, my expression painfully complicated. "Actually I'm totally over you now. You get it, right?"

He froze.

I forced an incredibly awkward smile. "Sorry about that."

His face turned a lethal shade of ash. He didn't utter a single syllable, just turned on his heel and walked away.

Holy hell, that was terrifying.

For a split second, I genuinely thought he was going to wrap his hands around my throat. No wonder everyone said he was insanely dangerous to cross. This was the true definition of risking your life for a payout.

Whatever. I watched his broad, imposing back disappear down the hall, justifying it to myself. Once I finish my degree at a top Ivy League and make my own millions, I'll just wire the money back to his mom. After all, these billionaire capitalists have sucked enough blood from poor people like me. Scamming a little cash out of them is basically Robin Hood justice.

After that, Kingston completely cut me off.

I stopped conveniently bumping into him on campus, and his frat brothers magically stopped trying to play couples counselor.

Sometimes I actually found the whole thing ridiculously lucky. Thank god his mother intervened when she did. Otherwise, considering how surprisingly easy he was starting to crack, if I had actually successfully locked him down, wouldn't I have just destroyed him even worse when I eventually bailed?

We randomly crossed paths in a stairwell once.

It was suffocatingly awkward because I accidentally locked eyes with him before I could pretend I was blind.

He swept right past me with a look of absolute, freezing indifference.

A sharp twinge of guilt actually pinched my chest. But then reality slapped me in the face. Think about all the girls his mom paid off before me. I wasn't even a blip on his radarat best, I was an unpaid delivery driver. Why on earth was I worried about breaking his heart?

Two months later, Kingston's mother reached out to me again.

We met at the exact same strictly members-only, ultra-exclusive private club.

Her features were a fraction less hostile this time. "You actually kept your word," she noted smoothly, sliding the second massive check across the table.

I stared at it. The absolute euphoric high I felt the first time wasn't there. Deep down, I realized I didn't even desperately need this second payout anymore.

But hey, free money was free money.

Chapter 6

When I reached out to grab the check, a massive hand slammed down over it.

It wasn't the matriarch.

It was Kingston, suddenly appearing right behind me.

He stared down at me with that same freezing, lethal intensity. His mother flinched, a flash of genuine panic crossing her face. But he didn't even spare her a single glance. He kept his dark eyes locked strictly on mine, letting out a dark scoff. "I was wondering why you suddenly dropped the chase. Turns out you just cashed my mother's check."

His mother instantly threw me right under the bus. "Kingston, don't let this little tramp fool you. She's a total gold digger. The first time I paid her off, she practically jumped for joy. It was like she was just waiting for me to hand over the cash."

The matriarch eagerly threw more fuel onto the fire. "She used to work at this private club. Every single time I paid off one of Grant's pathetic little groupies, you should have seen the greedy, desperate look in her eyes."

"I bet she planned this whole thing. She probably couldn't sink her claws into your brother, figured you were an easier target, and came after you instead."

Brother? Grant?

That was a massive information drop. I needed a second to process that.

But Kingston leaned down, his searing breath brushing against the shell of my ear as he whispered, "The last person who dared to play me like this is currently wearing cement shoes at the bottom of the Hudson River."

"Cleo, do you have a damn death wish