HIS OBSESSION: The Billionaire’s Little Secret.

My fiancé moaned another woman’s name while I was on top of him.

It was supposed to be a celebration. His big night. A new promotion. I wanted to give him everything, and I was close, so close to my climax when the name fell from his lips.

“Lisa… fuck yes.”

For a second I froze, thinking maybe I had heard wrong. My heart skipped.

I rode on him harder, determined to pull my name out of him. “Say my name,” I whispered against his ear, my body moving faster, chasing the sound I needed.

“Yes, Lisa,” he groaned, gripping my hips. “Ride me just like that, baby.”

The name hit me like a slap. My stomach twisted, all the warmth and pleasure I was feeling curdling into disgust. I pushed him back, my palm smashing across his cheek before I even thought about it.

Tears blurred my vision. “Rosie! My name is Rosie, you bastard!”

He sat up, eyes wide, blinking like he didn’t even understand what had just come out of his mouth.

“What the hell is going on?” he muttered, dazed.

“You were screaming her name! Lisa! You told me she was like your sister and you dared call her name while you were inside me!” My voice shook, my chest heaving.

His jaw tightened, the arrogance sliding back in. “What’s the big deal? It was just a mistake. You’re overreacting.”

“A mistake?” My voice dropped, sharp and low. “Are you sleeping with her?”

“Stop being—”

I didn’t let him finish. My hand grabbed the lamp from the nightstand, and I smashed it across his head with everything I had.

He shouted, clutching his scalp as blood trickled through his fingers.

Three years together. Three years of me doubting their closeness, brushing off the way she hovered around him at work. He said she was his childhood friend, that she was like a sister to him. And now this. Confirmation I was nothing but a fool.

“It’s over.” My voice cracked as I pulled the blanket around me. “The wedding and everything. I’m done.”

“You’re insane!” he shouted after me, but I was already moving, already gone, refusing to look back.

That was the night I walked out of his apartment, and out of his life.

I didn’t even pack properly. I just threw my phone and purse into my bag, slipped on the first pair of jeans I could find, and walked out. Half my clothes were still hanging in his closet, my shoes lined up by his door, but I didn’t care. I called Ivy while sobbing so hard she could barely understand me. 

She told me to come straight to her place. By the time I got there, I was a mess and my eyes were swollen. She didn’t ask questions. She just pulled me inside and poured me a glass of wine as I told her everything.

I’ve been staying in her mansion ever since.

At first, I thought it would only be for a few nights, but then the days turned into weeks.

I had been living with Louis for almost three years. I moved in with him after leaving my toxic mother’s place, thinking we were building a future together. My salary barely covered anything extra because every time I saved a little, my mother found a way to take it. Rent was out of the question. So when I left Louis, I had nowhere else to go. That’s how I ended up staying in Ivy’s mansion, taking over her guest room and pretending I wasn’t falling apart.

The heartbreak got worse when I went to work the next Monday. I couldn’t walk past our office breakroom without seeing him and Lisa standing there, whispering and laughing. And Lisa… that bitch started hovering around him more. Acting like she won. Like she was finally allowed to drape herself all over him in the hallways, then look at me with that smug little grin like I’d been the fool all along.

I didn’t even want Louis back, but she made sure to rub it in my face every damn time.

The CEO was kind enough to let me take some time off and said he understood. I couldn’t bring myself to show up every morning, doing secretary duties, and pretend I wasn’t dying inside. So I stayed indoors, drinking, sleeping, and drinking again.

By Friday night, I was already drunk before the sun went down.

I was curled up on the couch with a bottle of red wine clutched to my chest like it was the only thing keeping me alive. My lips were stained, my eyes swollen from crying. I had the TV on but wasn’t watching it. Just background noise to my pathetic life.

The front door slammed and Ivy’s heels clicked against the floor.

“Rosie,” her voice called out, sharp and annoyed. “Don’t tell me you’re drinking again.”

I tipped the bottle to my mouth, swallowing until the burn coated my throat. When Ivy walked into the living room, her eyes narrowed at me.

“Ivy, please,” I mumbled, waving her off, “not tonight.”

She marched straight to me and snatched the bottle out of my hands. “Not tonight my ass. It’s Friday night. You’re twenty-six, gorgeous, and you’re sitting here smelling like a damn winery.”

I reached out, grabbing for the bottle, but she pulled it higher. “Give it back, Ivy, I’m not done.”

“The hell you are. You think drowning in wine is gonna fix that asshole calling another woman’s name in bed? You think Lisa’s crying herself to sleep right now? No, she’s sitting on his lap laughing at you.”

Her words cut deeper than the alcohol. I tried to stand, but the room tilted and I stumbled back onto the couch, nearly face-planting. She sighed and grabbed my arm to steady me.

“Look at you,” she said, softer this time. “You’re letting him win. You’re letting her win.”

Tears blurred my vision. “What else am I supposed to do, Ivy? Every time I closed my eyes, I remember him moaning her name like I was nothing.”

Ivy sat down beside me, her hand squeezing mine. “He is nothing. He’s not worth your tears, Rosie. And Lisa? She’s trash. She’s been jealous of you your whole damn life.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Then why do I still feel like I lost?”

She tilted her head at me, her glossy lips curving into a mischievous grin. “Because you’re not fighting back. But lucky for you, I’ve got a plan.”

I groaned and leaned back, covering my face. “Oh god, not one of your plans.”

“Yes, one of my plans. And it’s brilliant.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet!”

“I don’t need to. If it’s yours, it’s dangerous.”

She snorted. “Dangerous is fun. And you need fun.”

“I need my wine back,” I muttered.

“You need to get fucked,” she shot back without hesitation.

My hands dropped from my face, and I stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. It’s been what, a month? You’re rotting in here like some widow when you should be out reminding yourself you’re a fucking goddess.”

I shook my head. “Ivy, I’m not going to the club tonight. I’m not ready to—”

“Good,” she cut me off, smirking. “Because I already booked you a hotel room.”

I blinked. “What?”

“And I may or may not have arranged for someone to meet you there.”

I sat up so fast I nearly toppled again. “Are you insane? You booked me a hookup?”

“Calm down. He’s hot, clean, and discreet. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“Ivy!”

She laughed at my outrage, clearly enjoying this too much. “Oh, come on. What’s the worst that can happen? You go, you kiss him, maybe one or two rounds. But at least you’ll stop crying over that useless prick.”

I buried my face in my hands again. “This is humiliating.”

“No, this is healing.” She stood and walked toward her room. “Now get up. We’re dressing you.”

I groaned but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. She came back with a short black dress and tossed it at me. “Put this on.”

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Yes, you are. Stop whining.”

Somehow, she dragged me into her room, helped me into the dress, brushed out my messy hair, and dabbed on just enough makeup to make me look alive. She even handed me a pair of heels.

When she turned me toward the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. My eyes were still swollen, but the dress clung to me in all the right places, and for the first time in weeks, I didn’t look like a corpse.

“You look hot,” Ivy said proudly. “Now drink this.” She gave me a glass of wine.

I downed it because my nerves were shaking too much. By the time we got into her car, my legs felt heavy, my head buzzing.

“You’re tipsy already,” she teased.

“I’m drunk,” I admitted.

“Perfect. You’ll have no filter.”

She pulled up outside the hotel around nine. Before I got out, she grabbed my hand. “Rosie. Don’t let Louis or Lisa own another second of your life. You deserve to feel alive again. Do this for you.”

Her words echoed in my chest, making me want to cry again. Instead, I nodded, opened the car door, and stumbled out.

By the time I reached the hotel room door, my heart was pounding harder than it had the night I walked out on Louis. I lifted my hand to the handle, tried to twist it but it was locked. My hand shook as I knocked.

The door swung open.

I was too tipsy to think, too desperate to feel something other than pain. I stumbled forward, crashed into a wall of heat and muscle, and before I could stop myself, I grabbed the man’s shirt, stretched up, and pressed my mouth hard against his.

I kissed him like my life depended on it.