Page 14 of Saved By the Billionaire

“Companies, inventions, apps, buildings, malls, airlines.”

Her stomach felt impossibly tight at his description and a tingle ran through her as she realised where she was. And with whom. “You’re Roman Hayes.” Of course she’d known. In the back of her mind, she’d understood, but she’d been too shell-shocked the night before to put two and two together.

“As I’ve said.”

She closed her eyes, wondering why this felt somehow worse. Like a betrayal or a lie of some kind. After all, this man was basically a finance-god and she was nobody. She’d just told him she couldn’t even afford an x-ray. She felt mortified and small. Humiliated and worthless.

She felt more alone than ever.

“Roman Hayes cooked me eggs,” she said, shaking her head, keeping her tone light. “But now, I really should get out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way.”

“Roman…Mr Hayes. Look. I’m obviously very thankful for last night. The fact you were there at that moment is something I’ll always be grateful for. But you don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to worry about me. My ankle will be fine. I’ll be fine.”

Silence throbbed around them and she realised she had two very undignified options. The first was to hobble from the room, and the other was to ask him to help her make an escape. Neither appealed, so she stayed where she was for now.

“You’re wrong.”

“I—about what?”

“That I don’t owe you anything.”

She frowned. “What does that mean? What do you think you owe me? By my calculations, I’m completely in your debt, not the other way around.”

“You need help.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t need anything.”

“You need help,” he repeated, voice firm. “You have no money, no legal right to be in the country. If you’re discovered, you’ll get deported at your cost.”

Her lips parted. “I know that.”

“I can lift a finger and fix it all for you.”

She shook her head. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I can.”

“But what would you do? What do you mean?”

He ticked items off his fingers. “Immigration lawyer for a visa extension, detective to help search for your father, and most importantly, somewhere to stay that’s not a goddamn hostel.”

At the last point, his voice flattened, anger resonating in the words. As though a hostel was the worst place imaginable.

“It’s not that bad,” she muttered, the sense of being small hardening inside her.

“You can’t even walk,” he reminded her. “It could be weeks before your ankle heals.”

“Weeks,” she repeated.

“Here, you can rest, recover, have meals cooked for you.”

She almost choked on her disbelief. “By you?”

“Me, my housekeeper.”

“But why would you do this for me?”