How to Hide the Billionaire's Child

"Where were you, Althea? Where have you been these past seven years?"

Mikhael's angry whisper reached me, his voice laced with both frustration and a desire that had begun to surface. His tall frame leaned heavily against mine as I struggled to support his weight. We were almost at the door of his dark mansion. I helped him inside.

"You're drunk, Mikhael," I whispered. I could hear nothing but the loud thumping of my own heart. I inhaled sharply when I caught the mix of his familiar cologne and the expensive whiskey he had at the bar. That same scent he used to wear all those years ago...

It made me tremble. I remembered our first meeting and that intoxicating perfume of his.

"Who's drunk?" he laughed bitterly, though his voice was broken. "I still recognize you, baby. Seven years. Seven fucking years and you—" His words were cut off when he stumbled and nearly fell to the floor. Thankfully, I caught him just in time. I wrapped my arm around his waist.

"Let me take you to your room," I said, my voice nearly gone as I helped him along. Every step felt like I was marching into a war with my own emotions, which had been wanting to break free for a while now. I could feel his gaze on me—hot, intense—like he was trying to pull the truth out of my silence.

"Why?" he muttered when we reached the door to what I assumed was his room. I opened it, and we were met with darkness. The scent of leather and cedarwood lingered in the air. I guided him to the bed, but before I could set him down, he suddenly pulled me into his lap.

"Why now? Why did you come back?" he said angrily. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Mikhael, stop—" I froze as he pulled me closer. Only a small distance remained between our faces. His dark eyes, wild and glazed, desperately searched mine.

"No!" he burst out, pain clear in his voice. "You don’t get to disappear without a word and just show up. You—" He pulled me down onto the bed with him, gripping my wrists tightly, afraid I might disappear again. "You broke me, Althea. Do you even know that?"

All I could do was stare at him. My throat dried up as memories of the past flooded over me. The man before me was not the same one I had left behind. And yet, there was something terrifyingly familiar in the anguish burning in his eyes.

"Mikhael, you're not yourself right now," I said. I tried to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around my waist, clinging to me like glue. I trembled when he suddenly kissed my ear.

"Not myself?" he laughed, his breath hot on my skin. "I’m more myself than I’ve ever been. Because you’re here. Because I can finally... punish you for what you did." His free hand ran down my side, rough and possessive, leaving heat in its wake.

"Stop, Mikhael," I pleaded, but my body betrayed me—I was enjoying every touch. The room spun, overwhelmed by our closeness. "You're just angry, and I understand, but—"

"Understand?" he laughed again. A low, dangerous sound. "Do you understand what it’s like to be abandoned by the only woman you ever wanted? To be left alone—every day—wondering if she’s alive or dead? If she’s in another man’s arms?"

He shifted, brushing his soft lips against my neck. I gasped when he bit me.

"But you're here now, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice husky. "Here to haunt me. To drive me insane again."

I shut my eyes tightly, torn between pushing him away or surrendering to the emotions I had long buried. I had missed him—missed this—so much. With our bodies this close, the wall I had built between us began to crumble.

"I'm sorry," I whispered in a broken voice. "I'm sorry, Mikhael. Please forgive me."

But the fire in his eyes only blazed brighter. With a growl, he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing my trembling lips.

"Sorry? Then make it up to me. Let me see—let me feel—that you really mean it."

Before I could respond, he crushed his lips against mine, the kiss painful and desperate. I tried to pull away, but he held my shoulders. His lips moved against mine with a ferocity that left me breathless, demanding everything I had to give. I could taste the bitterness of the alcohol on his tongue, feel the heat of his anger and longing—something dangerous building between us.

He pulled away, panting, eyes burning into me.

"Tell me," he said, as his fingers traced the collar of my blouse, pulling it down to expose my shoulder. "Why did you leave me? Why did you come back? Are you here to finish me off?"

"No, I—" I didn’t finish because he returned his lips to my neck. He nipped at my skin, both punishing and reverent. My heart thundered, and I felt like I might faint from the intensity of his presence.

"Liar," he muttered. His hand slid under my blouse, stroking my waist.

"You’re lying, Althea. But that’s okay. Because tonight—" he paused, lifting his head to look me in the eyes. His expression was fierce and unyielding.

"You’re mine tonight. Just tonight. I don’t care if you’re gone tomorrow. I’ll make sure you’re mine now."

I could’ve stopped this. I could’ve pushed him away, yelled at him. But I didn’t. Because deep down, I wanted this too. I wanted to feel his touch, to lose myself in him, just like before—even if it meant breaking all over again.

"Yes," I gasped. "Yes, Mikhael. I’m yours."

He groaned and captured my lips again. I moaned when he started touching my chest. I shut my eyes and let myself be consumed by the burning passion—and perhaps, by my own desire.

Tonight, I would give him everything again. Because, in the end, even after all the years and distance, he was still the one I searched for.