THE PRIVILEGED BILLIONAIRE IS MY LOVER

"I am so hungry but no, I have to get this book first." Nathan West mumbled under his breath as he walked into the Stanford library. 

"I don't want to give that lecturer any reason to think I'm getting special treatment just because of my last name."

"He already watches me like a hawk in class, probably waiting for me to slip up. Where is that damn Constitutional Law section?" He grunted and his stomach growled as if on a cue. 

Nathan scanned the nearly empty library, in growing frustration. 

"You know, staring at the shelves won't make the book magically appear." A voice suddenly called out. 

He turned to find a dark-haired girl watching him from behind the circulation desk, amusement playing across her features.

"Do they pay you to watch people struggle?" Nathan asked, half-seriously, narrowing her eyes on her.

"Minimum wage doesn't cover entertainment this good." The girl replied then gestured at his expensive clothes. 

"Although watching someone who clearly never heard the word 'no' fail at basic library navigation might deserve a raise." 

"And you didn't think to help?" He demanded. 

"Well, you didn't think to ask. Too used to people jumping to serve you?" She retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't need serving. Just directions." He said firmly. 

"Oh, he admits it! The golden boy needs help from us common folk." She stated, pressing a hand to her chest in mock surprise.

For a moment, Nathan stared at her in disbelief then he walked over to her desk. 

"Are you always this friendly to students?" He asked sarcastically. Although he wanted to get angry at her behavior but he couldn't bring himself to. 

"There is something about her that amuses me..." He thought. 

"Only the ones who think they are too important to read section signs." She told him before nodding toward the wall. 

"You are in Literature section. Law is three floors up." She said. 

"Oh, I see. Can you lead me there? Please?" He requested and the girl furrowed her eyebrows. 

"Please?" He added after sensing her hesitation. 

"So, you know how to politely ask for help?" She asked rhetorically then stood up. 

"What is the book?" She inquired, as she led him away. 

"Constitutional Law Fundamentals." He informed her. 

They walked to the elevator, passing students packing up for the night. Several nodded gratefully to her.

"You seem popular." Nathan noted.

"Unlike some people, I actually help them find books." She replied. 

"I'm Nathan West, by the way." He said, introducing himself. 

"West? I guess I know who you are. Your father's face is everywhere these days." She told him and chuckled dryly. 

"Don't hold it against me." Nathan said jokingly. 

"Too late. Anyway, I'm Scarlett." The girl replied. 

"No last name?" He asked curiously. 

"Not one that opens any doors." She shrugged casually. 

The third floor was quieter, mostly empty when the duo got there. Scarlett moved between the shelves with practiced ease, pulling out a thick book. 

"Try not to get lost on your way out." She told him after handling him the book. 

"Mind if I stay and study?" Nathan asked. 

"We close in thirty minutes." Scarlett informed him. 

"I can work with that." He assured her. 

She nodded and left him to his reading, but he found his attention wandering to her as she did her job. 

She moved between the shelves, reshelving books, helping the few remaining students. 

Once, she caught him watching and rolled her eyes.

"The words are in the book, Mr. West, not over here." She said flatly. 

"Nathan." He corrected her, smiling. 

"Mr. West suits you better. Although most entitled rich boys would have complained to management by now. I am sure you haven't." Scarlett said moving closer to the shelf beside him. 

"About what?" Nathan asked curiously. 

"My charming personality." She said sarcastically. 

"Oh, that? Maybe I like the abuse." Nathan replied, his smile growing bigger. 

"Careful, that is a different kind of library service." She said and smiled back at him. And for a moment, they held each other gazes sweetly. 

 ~~~~~~~~~

Time slipped by faster than Nathan expected. Soon Scarlett was back to inform him that he had to leave. 

"Time's up. Some of us work for a living." She said. 

"Thanks for the help, Scarlett." He told her gratefully. 

"Just doing my job, Mr. West." She replied gently and Nathan smiled at her. 

By the time, Nathan got to the parking lot, it was almost empty and the area was growing dark. 

"Oh..." He mumbled as he realized he didn't know that he had actually stayed late in the library. 

Then he saw his car's flat tire.

"Perfect!" He muttered with a grunt, crouching to check it.

"Nice car!" A voice suddenly said behind him.

Nathan turned slowly and saw three dangerous men walking to him. 

The speaker, wearing a dark hoodie, moved to his left. Another blocked the exit. The third stayed behind him.

"Look guys, I don't want trouble." Nathan said, straightening up. 

"Shame! Trouble found you anyway." The speaker said sharply and his colleagues chuckled dryly. 

"What do you want?" Nathan asked, trying to keep his voice steady. 

"Let's start with your watch." The guy said. 

"Fine, take it." Nathan said and quickly removed the expensive timepiece. 

"Phone too, and those car keys!" The man by the exit spoke up. 

"The watch is worth more than-" Nathan was saying, not wanting to hand over his phone. 

The first speaker pulled out a knife, immediately.

"This isn't a negotiation." He snapped. 

Nathan's back hit his car and the third man moved closer, blocking any escape route.

"The keys, they are not yours to take." Nathan said firmly, even though he was getting scared of being harmed. 

The first speaker chuckled, but there was no humor in it. He reached into his jacket with his free hand with deliberate movements deliberate, letting Nathan see exactly what was coming. 

He pulled out a gun and Nathan swallowed hard. 

"Let me rephrase that." He said, pressing the cold barrel against Nathan's temple. 

"Your life or the keys? Which one is more precious to you?" He asked Nathan, his finger moving to the trigger.