A Runs Girl's Gamble and A Playboy Billionaire's Reckoning

Amelia's Pov

The next morning, my phone would not stop buzzing. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the electricity went on and off a few times, as usual, in my room due to partial contact. Standing up to touch the switch felt like a big problem right now. Andre's message from last night still sat there: "Nice meeting you, Ami. Looking forward to knowing the real you."

I smiled a little, but then I shook my head hard. 'No, Amelia, do not fall for sweet words. This one is money. Big money.' I needed to stay sharp.

Just as I got up to make tea, my phone rang. It was him. My heart beat fast, but I waited two rings before picking up.

"Hello?" I said, trying to sound cool.

"Ami, good morning. Hope you slept well after that rain last night?" Andre's voice was deep and warm, like hot chocolate on a cool Illinois evening.

"I did, thank you. You too?" I replied.

We chatted a little, talked a bit about the gala, the traffic, normal Illinois things. But even on the phone, I could feel something. His laugh made my stomach do a small flip. 'Stop it! Ami!' I told myself, 'Remember Mom's hospital bills. This is business.'

"Listen," he said after a minute, "I have a meeting in Naperville this afternoon, but I want to see you. Let me take you for lunch. There's this nice spot by the water. What do you say?"

I bit my lip fast. But that was good for the plan. "Okay. Why not? Send me the address."

When we ended the call, he sent a text message that contained the address.

By 1 PM, I was there. I wore a simple but fine dress-one I rented again for photos later. Andre was already waiting. When he saw me, he stood up with a big smile. He looked even better in daylight: tall with strong shoulders and eyes that locked on mine as if nothing else mattered.

"Ami," he said, pulling out my chair. "You look beautiful. That red from last night was fire, but this one... wow."

I laughed softly and sat down. "Thank you. You clean up nice too."

We ordered Chicken soup and rice, the spicy kind that makes your nose run a little. While we ate, the talk flowed easily. He asked about my "events planning" job, and I told him stories. Some were true and some I made nicer. He listened like he really cared. Then he shared about growing up in Illinois, how he built his business from small deals to big ones like the Chicago Atlantic project.

"You have this fire in you," he said, leaning closer. Our hands almost touched on the table. "Most girls I meet just want pictures and gifts. But you... you talk like someone who knows the real struggle."

My cheeks felt hot. The way he looked at me made my heart race. Chemistry? It was there, like sparks from naked wires making contact when there is current. When he smiled, I wanted to smile back bigger. But no. I pushed the feeling down. 'This is for the money, Ami, and a Range Rover and a domestic help for Mom. Do not catch feelings.'

Still, when he reached over and wiped a small drop of soup from my chin with his finger, the touch sent electricity up my arm. "Sorry," he said with a grin. "Couldn't help it."

I rolled my eyes but laughed. "You're smooth, Mr Flakes. Too smooth."

"Call me Andre," he replied. His eyes stayed on mine. "And I mean it, Amelia. I want to know the real you. Not the Instagram one."

We talked for over two hours. Time flew. He told funny stories about bad traffic days and crazy business meetings. I shared how I hustled to start my page. The laughter we exchanged felt real. At one point, our knees touched under the table and neither of us moved away. My body wanted to lean in, but my head said, 'fight it!'

When the bill came, he paid without looking. Outside, he walked me to my hired car. The sun was a bit hot, but his hand on my lower back felt nice.

"I want to see you again. What do you say about tomorrow evening? At my place in Chicago. Nothing crazy-just dinner and good music."

I should say no; I should slow down with this. But the plan needed speed. "Alright, Andre. Tomorrow."

He stepped closer. For a second, I thought he might kiss me. My heart pounded. Part of me wanted it badly, I wanted him to kiss me but I stepped back with a smile. "See you then."

In the car going home, I let out a big breath. Leila called right away.

"How did it go?" she asked me.

"It went well, love," I said. "He's nice and rich. The perfect target."

"Ami..." Her voice warned me. "Don't lie to yourself. I can hear it in your voice. You like him already."

"I don't!" I replied fast. "It's just the game. I need the money for Mom. That's all."

But deep down, as Westlife's song played on the radio and traffic crawled, I knew trouble was coming. Andre made me feel seen...wanted. Not just for my body or my fake smiles. The chemistry was strong, like two wires sparking. I wanted to fight it. Oh, I had to fight it because love was not in my plan, only cash.

Still, I caught myself smiling at his message that came in later: "Can't stop thinking about your laugh. Tomorrow can't come fast enough."

I typed back quick: "Same here❤️."

Then I deleted the heart emoji before sending. 'Stay strong, Amelia. You are in Illinois, remember? Play the game, don't let the game play you,' I said to myself.