The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 479

His eyes stayed on her for a moment longer, then shifted slightly past her, as if she was no longer the focal point of importance.

“What I am curious about is…” he continued smoothly, his calm tone somehow making the insult worse. “What exactly is someone like you doing here?”

His gaze swept over her once more before the corner of his mouth lifted faintly.

“No offense,” he said. A brief pause followed. “But you seem a little… out of place.”

The woman’s expression tightened almost immediately.

The confidence from earlier faded beneath the sting of humiliation, but she refused to lower her head this time.

Because she remembered him. Far more clearly than he remembered her.

She’d been hustling at the Velvet Room part-time for two years, though it was a far cry from her usual circuit.

Most nights were spent in the grit of the city’s basement clubs-places where the air was thick and the “main job” was much less subtle.

A friend had finally thrown her a bone, pulling strings to get her onto the Velvet Room’s rotation. It was supposed to be a step up-trading the crowded stages of the outskirts for the quiet, high-priced discretion of a VIP lounge.

Most nights were tolerable. Boring. Repetitive. Sometimes disgusting-but tolerable.

Older wealthy men filled places like that almost every night. Men who bragged about their marriages while surrounding themselves with younger women the moment they stepped into a private lounge.

They drank too much. Talked too loudly. Acted like money excused everything.

But they tipped well. And in that line of work, that was usually enough.

During her third week working there-she ended up assigned to Nicholas Ashcroft’s table.

Everyone in the city knew who he was.

Young. Rich. Reckless.

She could still feel the phantom pressure of his hands on her hips and hear the jagged catch in her own breath as the ‘accidental’ touches of her shift finally transformed into something raw and undeniable.

After that, he disappeared from her life just as quickly as he had entered it.

But she remembered every detail.

Not a single day had passed since that night that she hadn’t dreamed of their paths crossing again-and of that night happening all over again.

So hearing him look at her now with complete indifference-

The same man whose silver-ringed fingers had once bruised her hips, whose hands had known the heat of her skin, now stood before her with them tucked casually into his pockets, as if none of it had ever existed.

As if she had never mattered enough to leave even the faintest impression.

That realization hurt far more than she had ever expected.