The Billionaire's Captive Flower

nd's

d of expensive perf

After I spoke to her hours earlier, I decided to surprise her by coming back a day e

ss. I had shopped for her in Italy before driving straight to her resid

moaning at the top of their lungs. I pushed the door open, and there they

er scrambled to pull up his pants, stammer

ow punches. I took the crystal vase and smashed

ell out of

e with her using the duvet to cover her body. Sheena wep

ess. A cheat, tha

o hear anything. You have twenty-four ho

wn the betrayal in heavy pours of whiskey. I sat alone in the room, staring throug

s walked in, moving into my bed, looking completely disoriented and innocent. In my drunken state of heartbreak

ts, reignited every ounce of anger in me. I looked at her with disgust. I assumed she was just another cheap woman who used my situation to trap me. I cursed her, called the h

the office. I have better things to do than to think

eslie Restaurant, oil and gas, and real estate. My woman w

nference room where my partners were already waiting. We needed to finalize the blu

erations director, said, sliding a thick folder across the mahogany table. "Constructi

leaning back in my leather chair, my mind still heavy and cold. "I want no delays on

into the architectural la

, staring at my desk. That strange encounter from

dialed the hotel number, a

go, first Saturday in July. I want e

e manager rep

age popped up on my pho

hallway together with two other girls. As the other two girls peeled off toward different rooms, it was c

ther easy woman out looking for a hookup, probably hoping to trap a man to sponso

at woman had messed with the wrong man. I was just wai

mpact, but I ignored the pai

us, and we met up at the Onyx Lounge

against the booth. "All because of that cheating b*tch Shee

*ng someone you didn't even know?

stranger is a stranger, man. B

my glass. "I'll never marry again. If I ever want

ith the stranger anyway?"

I don't even want

bitterness in my chest. Around us, the lounge speakers played a slow, crushing ballad-Morgan Wallen's "Sand