The Billionaire's Regret, The Heiress's Revenge

na "Ca

epped out of the café, pulling my

en I s

getting out, rounding the hood to open the passenger do

gray as the stormy sky, held no s

k a step back, and my heel caught on an uneven cobblestone. My ankle twisted, and a sharp, sea

assive. Then he turned his back on me, took Isabella's

aving me hurt on t

ding two coffee cups. He walked over to me

said. It wasn't a req

," I bit out, the wor

ent down, scooped me into his arms with cold effici

is own wife; he was

nd. It was black coffee. His preference. The kind I nev

s soft voice murmured, "I thi

ern that made my stomach clench. "You always did," he said, a small, private smi

nd's car. They spoke around me, their s

e'd taken me there on our first "date," a stilted, formal outing a month be

was never his pl

rist in the ruin

nder. I must have drifted off, because I woke to the car being park

, his lip curling in a sneer. "Are yo

not, Alex, not everything is about you. I am a woman of s

yes. He leaned across the console,

t a cha