The Billionaire's Regret, The Heiress's Revenge

na "Ca

eats, where millions were raised for charity to launder the sins of our actual business. I was attending for one reason o

esigner gown, as Alex took the stage. He was in his element

ntroduce the woman who will be spearheading the Waterfront Revival Project, a cornerstone of the

gown that clung to her every curve. Polite, obligatory a

nd found mine. There was a sile

light stumble. Alex's arm was there in an ins

e held her there a moment too long, his hand resting possessively

fled to the terrace, the cold nig

f my father's, found me there. He pres

y. "A Don does not think like other me

imits, Enzo," I said, my

augh. "Caterina?" he was saying to someone. "She's n

slid open again.

weet as poison as she gestured back toward

g a sharp, malicious gleam. "You know, Alex onc

ngs. She knew. She knew ab

whisper, for my ears only. "He a

e, the champagne sloshing in my glass. A flicker of tr

tilt just so, a seemingly accidental gesture that sent

wide, her lower lip trembling in a

ell is your problem?" he roared, rushing to Isabella's side, his arm w

s handkerchief. I saw the mask of wide

een withering for five long years-finally sh

ched glass of champa

as still fussing over Isabella, murm

ass over his impeccably

icy rivulets down his chest. He froze, his head snapping up to

im a cold,

with crystal clarity in the sudde