The Ruthless Billionaire's Obsession
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Nadia is a young woman who has been through a lot in her life. Her mother died when she was young, and her father is a gambler who has run up a lot of debt. When Nadia’s father can no longer pay his debts, he sells her to Stefan, a wealthy hotel owner. Nadia's life is turned upside down when her father's gambling debts spiral out of control. He is forced to sell her to Stefan, a powerful hotel king, as payment. Stefan is a ruthless businessman who is used to getting what he wants. He is immediately drawn to Nadia's beauty and innocence. He offers her a deal: she will be his for one month, and in return, he will pay off her father's debts. Stefan is initially attracted to Nadia’s physical beauty, but he is also impressed by her intelligence and strength. Nadia is not happy about being sold to Stefan, but she eventually comes to accept her situation. She begins to work at Stefan’s hotel, and she quickly becomes one of his most trusted employees. Stefan is a demanding and possessive lover, but Nadia is gradually drawn to his power and confidence. She begins to see him in a new light, and she realises that he is more complex than she thought. As Nadia and Stefan spend more time together, they begin to fall in love. However, their relationship is not without its challenges. Stefan’s ex-girlfriend is still in love with him, and she is determined to win him back. Additionally, Nadia’s father continues to gamble, and he eventually gets into even more debt. Despite the challenges they face, Nadia and Stefan’s love for each other grows stronger. They eventually overcome all of their obstacles and get married. They live happily ever after, and they use their wealth to help others.
I know this sounds strange, but in my eighteen years, I have never given much thought to how my life will pan out. I'm a resident of the "city of sin," once known as Las Vegas. Furthermore, I have no idea what fun and excitement even imply, even if that's why the majority of visitors to this area come here.
Since my stepmother departed when I was twelve, I had to start assisting my dad with the money right away, thereby terminating my childhood. My stepmother was my only female role model until my real mom passed away when I was just two years old. While doing a range of odd chores hasn't been enjoyable, I take my obligation to assist at home seriously. My dad needs my help, and I don't want him to feel overworked after two consecutive ladies left him.
In an attempt to save money, I decided to work as a maid at the Pink Flamingo, a motel outside of town, after I graduated from high school. It was a long first day of work. Clients were jerks, and I could tell that my supervisor and coworkers didn't think much of me. Except Chloe, that is. Chloe was a huge assistance to me. The elderly woman is a longtime patron of the Pink Flamingo. She gave me tips on how to work fast and deal with fussy clients. I like her charming but realistic demeanour; she's now taken on the role of a surrogate mother in my eyes.
Chloe is a friend more than a mother figure, though. Someone who treats me like I exist and listens to me, which saddens me but is also real. I sometimes feel as though no one is able to see me. With a rag on my head and a broom and mop in my hands, I'm just an invisible girl.
I dropped the sheets from a double bed into my laundry basket last week after wiping the perspiration from my brow. The mindless labour is the finest thing about the Pink Flamingo, aside from Chloe, which is occasionally relieving. Once more, my thoughts turned to my father as I was making the bed.
Mark is not flawless. To be honest, he hasn't been the best father. And although I'm not privy to the murky facts of his marriage to my stepmother, she had to have lost tolerance since she had to leave. Dad has always struggled with gambling. He has always been greedy and self-centred. But he's mine. In the entire world, he is my sole family. Even after he lost everything in an awful deal that smelt to high heavens, I could never leave him. I could have warned him to avoid that one as well, but papa dear never pays attention, especially when it comes to his daughter.
Sadly, none of that matters at this point. I have to consider my future and make an effort to understand who I am. Even though the Pink Flamingo is a dilapidated motel, it's currently my greatest hope of stability and domestic assistance.
"Nadia, my love?"
I looked up at the sound of Chloe's gentle voice and saw her standing in the doorway. My cheeks warmed as a hot, frustrated tear streamed down my face, too strong to contain. Lifting her callused, rough fingers, Chloe wiped the tears from her eyes.
I blew out a sharp breath and brushed my brown curls away from my face. I put a little grin onto my face as I looked up at her.
I muttered, "I'm fine, I'm just tired of scrubbing these floors." In a technical sense, my life was quite close to reality. I was sick of mopping up after rowdy visitors who only wanted a room to trash and washing the floors. The amount of times I've had to get rid of trash that made my stomach turn over is beyond count. There's no denying that the Pink Flamingo is a dump, and nobody seems to care about what it would be like to have to clean it for a living.
With a moan, Chloe shifted onto her side to relieve strain on her injured hip and sat down next to me. After tumbling down the stairs two years prior, she shattered it. However, Danny, our manager, didn't seem to care and threatened to fire her if she didn't return to work as soon as possible following her operation. Chloe took a deep breath and let go of the cigarette she had just put in her mouth. I accepted the cigarette she reluctantly offered to me and took a deep drag.
After sitting in silence and breathing in the smoke, Chloe took hold of my hand and squeezed it.
"Dear Nadia, I know you have greater aspirations than this. All of us do. But you have an entire life ahead of you, which is the only thing that sets you apart from the rest of us," croaked Chloe's scratchy voice.
"I know; I have dreams." I exhaled. "But I don't think they're very good." My stepmother and I used to ride out from our little house to visit the showgirls when I was younger. I used to think that they were so glamorous and that I should be like them—beautiful, curvaceous, and covered in diamonds. Now that I'm eighteen, I might have reached the bustier portion of my body, but beauty and diamonds are nonexistent. With my wildly curled hair, mud-brown eyes, and dirty work clothes, I resemble a mouse more than anything else. That much is certain: no one would ever mistake it for a showgirl. Too bad about that dream.
Chloe swung her palm in the air and pivoted to confront me.
"Everyone, my love, has dreams. How about yours? Educating? being a business owner yourself? Raising her slender, bleach-blonde brows, Chloe inquired. I sadly laughed and turned to face my hands. The blue cleaning solution we used had left stains on them, and the nails were fractured and uneven. I shot a forlorn smile towards the elderly woman.
"I don't know what my own business would be, but it sounds amazing," I remarked. "So no," I've been considering attending college. I simply don't know how I would pay for it or what I would do," I said, lowering my gaze to avoid catching Chloe's attention. These kids weren't just randomly drawn to college. It was that easy: either their parents paid or they didn't go at all. My parents, for instance, never brought up college. Mark really wouldn't have given a damn if I hadn't finished high school.
However, there was something more that I yearned for deep down inside. Life could not be limited to this.
Chloe sat silent for a moment, processing what I had just told her. She gave me a big sigh and rubbed my palm.
You are aware that life at college is difficult here. However, nothing should stop you from doing it if that's what you want to do! Chloe shouted. I grimaced once more.
"I simply desire something more superior than this," I said, surveying the dilapidated Pink Flamingo. The wall paper was peeling in the corners and looked to be at least thirty years old. The carpet was damaged and smelled strangely like must, and there were fractures and water stains all over the ceiling.
But dreams are luxury items, and I couldn't afford them at the moment. I got to my feet deliberately, brushed off my jeans, and reached out to pick Chloe up. She put a weighty arm over my shoulder and reassuringly tucked a straggling curl behind my ear.
If all you want to do is go, that's okay, sweetie. I have lived here my entire life and have known nothing except this. But you don't have to," Chloe persuaded me. As she said, her clouded blue eyes grew wide. Her only motivation for staying at the Pink Flamingo was her son Lewis's meth addiction. She made several attempts to monitor him closely and even attempted to get him into treatment, but to no avail. Since then, she has remained in this place, and I was resolved not to become like her.
I whispered, "I'm sure I'll find something." I got back on my knees and scrubbed away.
Suppose you were a paramedic? They pay really well, and I know they have training! Chloe cooed. Scrubbing the floor, I wrinkled my nose.
"I feel too nauseous near blood," I muttered. "It gives me the flu." Chloe patted my arm gently.
"How about visiting the local community college to inquire about financial assistance?" Chloe recommended. "I've heard that some of those initiatives can be quite giving." I wiped perspiration off my brow and nodded.
"Okay, I'll investigate that," I answered, attempting to conceal my deepening melancholy. Although my buddy was sincerely attempting to assist, she would never be able to comprehend. With my dad being dependent on me and me having no money, I found myself in a difficult situation. While financial aid was nice, it wasn't going to make my troubles go away.
Chloe patted my hand and said, "Well, whatever you choose, I know the universe will bring you just what you need." It's due to your karma.
I muttered, "I hope so," without looking up.
The elderly woman smiled at me one final time and went back to her own work. I sat there for a minute, imagining what life might be like after my time at the Pink Flamingo.
"What do you think you're doing, Miss Nadia?" My head snapped up, and I winced to find our manager Danny, his pot belly protruding, looming over me.
"Washing floors?" Still dubious of me, I answered. Danny placed his hands on his little hips and rolled his eyes.
He began in a mocking manner, "I think I can see that." However, I fail to see why you haven't gone to the bathroom yet. Those floors are filthy, and guests come and go from here. I quickly stood up and grabbed the sponge that was on the ground.
"Danny, I'll take care of it immediately," I blurted out. Although Danny wasn't all that scary, I had long since discovered it was best to avoid him because of his violent anger.
"Miss Nadia, you better. After graduating from high school, do you intend to work here? Did Danny ask?
"I believe I could." I gave a low, timid response.
Danny shot out, "Then you better stop lollygagging." With a disgusted moan, he lumbered off, whispering to himself.
I let out a deep breath, grabbed my bucket of muddy water, and carried it over to the restroom. I got down on my hands and knees and cleaned the filthy flooring mercilessly. They were soiled from muddy shoes and who knows what else, and there was no way to get rid of the stains. Still, I scrubbed away.
My entire body hurt by the time the floors began to appear cleaner. I slumped back on my heels after slowly getting to my feet. For a while now, the Pink Flamingo has been my only source of income, yet I couldn't help but wish for a life outside of it. At these moments, memories of my previous travels with my stepmother would suddenly come back to me. I closed my eyes and saw dancers from a burlesque company sparkling with jewels. Unlike me, who is limited to cleaning, washing, and interacting with Danny, they appeared to be so free.
I'd never make a good showgirl. Rich guys would never pay to see me dancing around with a feather fan because of my round, curvaceous shape. However, a girl may still dream, right?
I let out a sigh and rested against the discoloured walls. My hair was stuck to my scalp from sweat, and my legs hurt like crazy. I didn't want to be stuck in this place with no other options in life, like Chloe was. However, I couldn't get rid of a tiny hope that was burning brightly in the back of my mind despite all of my doubts and perplexity.
I forced a smile, scooped up my soiled pail, and moved in the direction of the motel's entrance. I'd manage to get out. The issue was that I wasn't certain.
Stan held up a tumbler of champagne and remarked, "Hopefully, with these new renovations, those fat cats from New York will be interested in becoming a part of The Grand." He had already had several glasses, so his hand was shaking, and he took a big gulp to empty the flute.
"To The Grand," I growled. I sipped it slowly and reclined in my chair. Nothing lifted my spirits quite like having lunch with one of my most reliable colleagues, Stan Stefanander. It didn't matter that we had been sipping champagne for so long that I was certain the restaurant would run out soon.
Since my hotel, The Grand, was my pride and pleasure. It has given me everything I could possibly want in this life—fame, money, and everything else. However, on certain days, I felt as though something was lacking.
Stan gave me a sharp push on the arm and burped loudly. "Hey, what's up with you? You've been acting so depres
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