TOO LATE, MR. BILLIONAIRE

POV: ReginaI could feel the warmth and silent excitement radiating in my heart as I pictured Adrian’s expression when I break the news to him. I couldn’t help, but wonder my news would break his calm exterior and make him yell in happiness. Whichever, I couldn’t wait for him to get home.I stirred the creamy Alfredo sauce slowly, inhaling the soft aroma of butter, garlic and the other spices that filled the kitchen. The chicken was already fried and carefully arranged on the white ceramic dishes beside the pasta. Candles flickered softly across the dining table behind me, casting a golden light over the crystal glasses and white roses, adding a soft, romantic vibe to the atmosphere.Soft jazz played softly through the penthouse while Manhattan glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows like scattered diamonds. I have always loved how beautiful the city looked beautiful from up here.But tonight, it almost felt magical. Everything looked perfect.I placed a hand against my stoma

POV: AdrianI rolled my neck as the elevator went up, working out the stiffness from the three back-to-back meetings I'd had yesterday.The merger was finally handled last night. It was done and we could move forward.I glanced at the rose bouquet in my hand.I’d apologize to Regina for missing last night and fix things today.The elevator stopped, and the first thing I noticed when I stepped into the penthouse was the unusual heavy silence.Usually, Regina’s presence always welcomed me home, either by her soft music playing in the kitchen, the scent of her vanilla perfume or the way her face lit up when she saw me.But this silence felt…wrong.Which meant that she was indeed angry at me for missing another important dinner.Again.My jaw tightened slightly as I loosened my tie and stepped further into the penthouse, dropping the flowers on the console. “Regina?”Silence.I walked further into the house and the dining area came into view, stopping me in my tracks.Carefully, I approa

POV: ReginaThe Moretti Grand Hotel was exactly as I remembered it, but the ballroom was beyond my expectations.It was breathtaking and ruthlessly elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Boston waterfalls, and marble floors so polished that they reflected the chandeliers above like still water.The floral arrangements were so tall, white, and architectural. They are probably worth more than my first restaurant lease.Everything in this building had been designed to make the people feel the weight of Adrian Moretti’s name before he even walked into the room.I knew that feeling too well.“Table twelve still doesn’t have its champagne setup,” I told one of the hospitality staff while scanning the room carefully. “And the seafood station needs to be rotated before it starts looking dry.”“Yes, Chef.”The staff scattered quickly, the waiters moving silently between tables in black-and-white uniforms.Everything looked elegant and perfect, which meant absolutely nothing cou

POV: Adrian The world stood still for three minutes. I hadn’t moved from the spot where Regina had left me or spoken to anyone. I didn’t hear anything at all, not the silent chatters of the guests or the quiet movement of the waiters across the room. I only saw her, standing in the middle of the ballroom in a white double-breasted jacket and black loose pants, giving orders with that calm authority she’d always possessed. Except now, she wasn’t the same woman I remembered. She looked different, more confident and composed. There was something about the way she carried herself now that made it obvious that she’d built a life without me. A life where she didn’t need me. I’d spent the last five years searching for her, hiring private investigators, reaching out to old acquaintances and every possible lead my influence could buy, but they all led to dead ends. I had turned over pieces of my own world trying to find one woman who had disappeared from it without leaving any hint at

POV: ReginaI always looked forward to the days following every catering job I completed. Always looked forward to relaxing and letting go of the physical stress that came with being a chef and managing a staff of close to thirty persons.It was always a different location each time. Every place had its own version of peace. Today, four days after wrapping up the job at Adrian’s hotel—four days since I last saw him—I picked a spa, but I still couldn’t tell what emotion I was feeling.I stared out the window of the taxi, watching Boston move through the Friday morning in a slow rush, trying to get everything done before the weekend spirit finally caught up.However, my mind wandered back to when I’d stood face to face with Adrian Moretti, when he’d seen my daughter.In the past, I would imagine what it was going to be like—how I’d act, express my anger, maybe even slap him hard across the face—if I ever saw him again, but when I finally did, I reacted in a way I hadn’t expected, calm a