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Chapter Twenty-Nine The Bait and the Burn
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ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE Chapter Thirty The Weight of a Lie
Melinda’s POVI told myself she was lying.That Vanessa, with her venom and her designer malice, had spun a story just convincing enough to burrow into my mind and rot it from the inside out.But the problem with lies…Is that they only work if part of them is true.That night in Vegas, I’d been running.From Andrew. From shame. From the press hounding me about a scandal I hadn’t caused.I booked a hotel without thinking.Except I had thought.Too much.And when I saw him at the bar…I did pause.Just for a second.James O’Connor.I’d seen his face in a profile once. Forbes. Or maybe Fortune.I remember the headline: “The Reluctant Billionaire: How O’Connor Built a Kingdom Without a Crown.”I didn’t walk over to him that night because I wanted his money.But maybe…Maybe I did walk over to him because I wanted to feel like someone again.Someone powerful.Someone free.And that was worse somehow.Because it made Vanessa right — not in facts, but in spirit.I didn’t seduce James.But I
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE Chapter Twenty-Nine The Bait and the Burn
James’s POVSome battles aren’t fought in boardrooms.They’re fought in whispers. In data trails. In silence.I spent the next forty-eight hours dissecting every security log tied to Melinda’s firm. My people — ex-CIA, now private intelligence — moved fast and quiet. Within hours, they’d uncovered the breach. An internal backdoor. A mirrored drive copied offsite. And all of it traced to one location:Vanessa Holt’s personal assistant.I didn’t tell Melinda.Not yet.She needed air, not gasoline.Instead, I had the assistant followed. Phones tapped. Drives cloned. By the end of the second day, we had everything: email threads between Vanessa and Andrew, forged reports, timelines, payment slips.And one damning thread I hadn’t expected.From Vanessa“She played you, James. She knew who you were the second she saw you. Don’t let her rewrite history. She’s not innocent. She chose you. For your name. For your money. For leverage.”The message was three months old.And the implication was c
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE Chapter Twenty-Eight Glass Cracks from the Inside
Melinda’s POVIt started with a skipped client meeting.Then a missed wire transfer.Then three calls from board members who never used to call.By the time I stepped into my office that afternoon, I already knew something was wrong. The air was different — thinner. The kind of quiet that clings to you just before a fire alarm goes off.Carrie met me at the door with a face that said everything.“You’re going to want to sit,” she whispered.I didn’t.I walked straight to my desk and opened the laptop. Ten new emails. Subject lines that didn’t make sense:URGENT: Project halt requested – Evoke Phase TwoInternal audit: Request for files under reviewBoard action pending – Noncompliance clause triggered?“What the hell is this?” I asked, eyes darting.Carrie looked pale. “There was a vote. Emergency session. You weren’t notified because—well, because they claim you missed three previous compliance reviews.”My head snapped up.“That’s not true.”“I know,” she said. “But someone got into
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE Chapter Twenty-Seven Court of Illusions
Melinda’s POVI hadn’t seen Andrew Holt in nearly seven months.Not in person.Not outside nightmares.And yet there he was, standing across the marble hallway of the Superior Court of California — same smug posture, same tailored suit stretched across a body that looked smaller than I remembered. Paler. Like whatever soul he had left had been bled out slowly, drip by drip.He was talking to his lawyer, but his eyes were on me.Watching.Like a wolf watches its injured prey — not out of pity, but patience.I turned away before he could smirk.Today wasn’t about him.Not entirely.Today was about protecting the twins.James stood beside me in a charcoal suit, no tie. His hands were folded calmly in front of him, but I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat off blacktop. He hadn’t asked questions when I told him Vanessa came by. He hadn’t spoken when I mentioned Andrew’s threats.He just looked at me and said, “Then I’ll come with you.”Now we stood shoulder to shoulder — tw
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE Chapter Twenty-Six Snake in the Mirror
Melinda’s POVThe press storm died faster than I expected.By noon the next day, the headlines were gone—scrubbed from every gossip blog and retracted by three official outlets. A brief “correction” replaced the viral piece, citing “anonymous misinformation and photo manipulation.” O’Connor Global issued a rare formal statement denying any claims of paternity or scandal.It was surgical.Clean.Too clean.That meant James had done it.Not with charm. Not with money.With power.And that scared me more than the exposure ever did.I sat in my office, fingers grazing the edge of a manila envelope my assistant had dropped off thirty minutes ago. Inside were background checks. Surveillance reports. Digital traces I hadn’t requested—but James had sent anyway.A quiet warning.Your past is being watched.I pushed the envelope aside, just as the intercom buzzed.“Melinda,” Carrie’s voice came through, tense. “You have a visitor.”I frowned. “Who?”Another pause.Then, softly: “Your sister.”M
ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE Chapter Twenty-Five The Old Guard
James’s POVThe O’Connor estate sat perched on the edge of the Hudson River, gleaming like a trophy no one was allowed to touch. A fortress made of glass, steel, and ego. I hadn’t stepped foot inside in four years.Not since I told my father I’d never be his puppet.But this morning, I walked through the front gate like a man ready for war.The butler was new. Too young, too polished. He didn’t ask for my name—just stepped aside and opened the double doors with reverence, like he’d been trained to recognize power when it entered a room.I didn’t bother greeting him.This house had never been my home.Only my inheritance.I found my father in the winter study, seated behind a mahogany desk the size of a city bench. He wore his usual: gray wool, navy silk tie, silver cufflinks engraved with our initials.The same ones I used to admire as a boy.The same ones that meant nothing now.“James,” he said without looking up. “I expected you sooner.”“I was busy cleaning up your mess.”He looke
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