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17 - Surprised
Last Updated:
2025-04-08 18:09:23
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The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée 75 - Bullet
The answer came with a deafening crash as the warehouse’s main loading bay door was ripped from its hinges, crumpling inwards as if hit by a freight train. Framed in the opening, silhouetted against the night, stood two figures. One was Marco, his usual sardonic expression replaced by a cold, professional readiness. The other was Damien. He was dressed in dark, tactical gear, a stark departure from his usual tailored suits. The cold fury on his face was a terrifying thing to behold, a whitehot rage that seemed to burn away the very air around him. His eyes found mine across the vast space, and in them, I saw no doubt, no suspicion. Only a singular, murderous purpose. He had come for me. “Let her go, Caruso,” Damien’s voice was unnaturally calm, but it cut through the silence like a razor’s edge. Caruso laughed, pulling me to my feet and dragging me in front of him, a cold pistol suddenly pressed against my temple. “Salvatore! So glad you could make it. I was worried your broken he
The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée 74 - Trap
A man stepped into the light. He was older than Damien, perhaps in his early thirties, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that screamed money and power. He was handsome in a sharp, predatory way, with dark, intelligent eyes that assessed me with a chilling amusement. “Angelina Winters,” he said, his voice a silken purr. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I am Luciano Caruso.” The name meant nothing to me, but the way he said it, with such self asured arrogance, told me it was supposed to. “What do you want with me?” I asked, my voice trembling but defiant. “With you? My dear, you misunderstand your role in this little drama.” He gestured to a rickety chair in the center of the floor. “You are not the prize. You are simply the bait.” He glanced at Elena, who was watching me with undisguised hatred. “Elena here has been most helpful. She has quite a talent for weaving webs. She felt, quite rightly, that Damien had overlooked her superior qualities in favor of
The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée 73 - Delicate Creature
The car was expensive, the leather seats soft, the interior smelling faintly of a man’s cologne. The driver was a large, silent man in a dark suit whose eyes met mine in the rearview mirror for a disconcerting second before flicking away. “Where are we going?” I asked, my voice small. “My place,” Elena said brightly, patting my knee. “It’s not far. You can crash with me for as long as you need. We’ll find you a lawyer tomorrow, a real one, not one of Salvatore’s sharks. We’ll sue them both, George for being a snake and Damien for… well, for being Damien.” There was a hard edge to her voice when she said his name that set my teeth on edge. “I don’t want to sue anyone, Elena. I just… I want to be left alone.” “Oh, honey.” She sighed, a theatrical sound. “You’re too soft for this world. That’s your problem. Men like Damien Salvatore, they eat girls like you for breakfast. They see all that kindness and naivety and they can’t help but break it, just to see if they can.” Her words wer
The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée 72 - Aimlessly
The taxi idled at the curb, a silent, yellow vulture waiting for me to name a destination. But I had none. The world outside the smudged window was a blur of indifferent city lights. Every direction felt wrong, every street a path leading further away from him. The driver cleared his throat, a gruff, impatient sound that grated on my raw nerves. “So where to lady?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Where? Back to the hovel I shared with George? To a homeless shelter? To the anonymous apartment represented by the cold, hateful key still clutched in my sweating palm? Each option was a different kind of hell, a different kind of surrender. Using George’s key felt like proving Damien right, a betrayal so profound it made me physically ill. “Just.... drive,” I finally whispered, my voice a ghost of itself. “Please. Just go.” He shrugged, pulling away from the curb, and I watched the imposing gates of Damien’s estate recede in the rearview mirror until they were swallowed b
The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée 71 - Audacity
He gave a short, bitter laugh, a sound completely devoid of humor. It was the sound of something breaking. “Love? You have the audacity to stand in my house and use that word, after what I just saw?” He gestured towards my tightly clenched fist. “what is that in your hand, Angel? A token of his undying affection?” My hand flew open instinctively, revealing the small, damning piece of metal. “It’s a key. He tried to give it to me. He said it was for a safe place. I didn’t want it, Damien! I tried to refuse!” “A key,” he said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “A key to your new life together, I presume. How very thoughtful of him. Planning your escape right under my nose.” “No! That’s not what it is! That’s not what I want!” Tears were streaming down my face now, hot and useless. “Why won’t you believe me?” “Believe you?” He was in front of me now, his sheer presence a physical force. He looked down at me, his green eyes glacial. “I believe what I saw. I saw the woman I off
The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée 70 - Stillness
I tried to pull my hand back, horrified. “No! George, get up! I don’t want it! I don’t need it!” His fingers tightened around mine, forcing the cold metal of the key into my hand. “Please, Angel. Just for my own peace of mind. Let me do this one thing right.” His desperation was suffocating. I felt trapped, cornered by him in the booth, with Elena watching the whole pathetic spectacle unfold. All I wanted was to get away, to get back to the mansion, back to the fragile peace I’d found with Damien. Across the street, parked in the shadows of an alleyway, I didn’t see the sleek black car. I didn’t see the man in the driver’s seat lower a pair of binoculars. And I didn’t see the flicker of a curtain in the back seat, behind which Damien Salvatore watched the entire scene, his face hardening from weary grief into a mask of pure, unadulterated ice. He saw George on his knees. He saw him pressing something into my hand. He saw my distress, my tears, and interpreted it not as rejection
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