70 DAYS WITH THE WRONG BILLIONAIRE

A'S

r couple. That's w

eyes on that stage. Seeing how perfectly they fit each other felt like a blow to my

turning into a roaring wa

e middle of a crowded room,

se. I caught snippets of conversations- "Oh, finally!", "I k

ow did everyone in this room know about t

to. I willed him to, begged him with my burning eye

f that because my gaze was definitely burning his skin bu

ing c

lid a heavy diamond ring onto her finger. I couldn't hel

me all over again, steal

this much. Not more tha

ra looke

aces in the room.

her eyes. A silent, venomous message passed between us: I

dug into

ucking

egan to spi

here. I couldn't

crowd, ignoring the startled

neede

d the exit, Mario

ing a cold glass into my hand. Mario-a guy I had known

ding alcohol entirely, but the agony in m

ne, needed some

swallowed the liquid down my throat in desperate

ed down my throat,

my greates

bright ballroom and into the dim

sweat broke out a

ad a feeling that I was being follo

uilt men. Their faces were blurry in the dim light, but th

re trail

y immediately matched my spee

hi

spinning. I ran straight toward the bank of elevators,

b against the butt

n... com

ainst my ribs, praying the doo

in

n so happy to h

part and I stumbled ins

ward. His hand shot thr

t second, o

his lips. He looked like a predato

s the doors slammed shut

legs gave out. I collapsed onto t

ea

. so mu

liquid fire, pooling low in my s

kin b

dress against my skin fe

t the metal wall of the e

s multiplying, rushing throu

t cause a reaction like this. I didn't know muc

tor finall

oor and the doors opened

ng on my feet, the terror of the two me

, wouldn't

wall for balance, until I reached t

aking as I grabbe

li

s unlo

st the heavy wood until the door clicked shu

st the door, he

af

the clutches

finall

that's what

idea, I hadn't e

ht from the frying pan, i

the