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2024-10-08 21:32:34
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The Billionaire’s Wrong Pet Under the cactus pot
Willis didn’t mean to go back that soon.He told himself he’d wait until Friday. Give it a few days. Let things settle. But the quiet in his apartment stretched too wide, and the idea of her—the chaos of her, the warmth—was louder than his self-control.So on Wednesday evening, just after dark, he found himself outside her door.He hadn’t even texted.The spare key was exactly where she said it would be, tucked beneath a tiny cactus in a blue ceramic pot. He hesitated only a second before using it.The apartment smelled like incense and lemon, soft and lived-in. Jazz was playing from a speaker in the kitchen—Coltrane, maybe. Something that meandered, low and longing.“Hey,” she called from down the hall, casual, like she’d known he’d show up. “You’re early.”Willis smiled to himself and slipped off his coat. “I’m always early. I just never show it.”Liv walked into his view in nothing but a robe and that lazy, dangerous smirk he was already addicted to. Her eyes dragged over him like
The Billionaire’s Wrong Pet Trauma sex appeal
Willis woke up with sunlight in his eyes and a soft ache in his body.The sheets around him were tangled, still warm from where she’d been. Liv was gone. The room hummed with leftover heat and echoes—clothes scattered like evidence, air thick with the scent of last night.For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stared at the ceiling, trying to remember the exact moment her mouth met his throat, the way her laugh caught in her chest right before she whispered his name into his skin.His heart thudded, not from regret—but from a low, humming awareness of how long it had been since he felt anything that close to pleasure. Since he stopped performing, and just wanted.There was music playing from somewhere in the apartment—soft, old soul, Marvin Gaye or something close. The scent of coffee drifted under the door, warm and grounding. It could have been romantic, if either of them were in the mood for that kind of lie.He sat up and found his shirt slung across the lamp.When he walked out, s
The Billionaire’s Wrong Pet Liv
Willis hadn’t meant to go out.He’d planned on staying in, maybe working through the stack of unread books on his coffee table or reorganizing the spice rack he didn’t really use. But the apartment felt too still, the kind of quiet that echoed. And he couldn’t stop wondering what Ivory was doing.So he went out. Just for a drink. Just to prove to himself that he still knew how to be in the world.The bar wasn’t loud, which helped. Exposed brick, amber lighting, and something soft playing through overhead speakers. A woman in the corner was reading a poetry book aloud, half to herself, half to a man who looked smitten.Willis chose a spot at the bar. Ordered something smoky, which he didn’t finish. He scrolled through his phone out of habit. No messages. Nothing from Ivory. Not that he expected it.Still.She was everywhere. In the way he glanced at the door like she might walk in. In the way his chest tightened when someone laughed in a way that almost sounded like her.He closed his
The Billionaire’s Wrong Pet Where it all began
Arlo didn’t ask anything else.He waited at his door in sweatpants and a tee, like he hadn’t expected her but had been waiting all the same.Ivory stood in his hallway, arms wrapped around herself, barely breathing.He opened the door wider.She stepped inside.The apartment smelled like cinnamon and coffee—something warm. Something safe.He didn’t touch her.She didn’t ask him to.They sat on the couch like they were made of glass, the silence stretching out, comfortable and impossible.Ivory stared at the floor.“I saw him,” she finally said. Her voice was thin, papery.“I know,” Arlo said softly.She looked up.He hesitated. Then reached for his phone on the coffee table, turned it so she could see the screen. A message was still open.Willis: Take care of her. Don’t hurt her again.Beneath it, another.Willis: You got what I wanted. Please make it worth it.Ivory blinked. “He texted you?”Arlo nodded. “About an hour ago.”Her throat burned. “Did you reply?”“No.” He set the phone
The Billionaire’s Wrong Pet If I don’t, why does it hurt?
Ivory got there early.Too early.The café was half-empty, the slow lull of mid-morning softening the clatter of mugs and the low hum of conversation. She chose a booth near the window, back to the door. If he came and left without seeing her, maybe that would be enough.Maybe just knowing he’d tried would be enough.She folded her hands in her lap to hide how badly they were shaking.The waiter came by twice. She ordered tea, not because she wanted it, but because it felt like something to do. She didn’t touch it.When Willis walked in, she knew it before she saw him. The air around her shifted—her spine straightened without her consent.And when she did look, she wished she hadn’t.He was wearing a blue shirt. Soft at the collar, sleeves rolled, like he wasn’t trying to be anything except himself.He spotted her.And paused.Not for long. Just enough that her stomach flipped. Then he walked over, hands in his pockets, jaw set tight.“Hey,” he said.Ivory stood. “Hi.”She didn’t know
The Billionaire’s Wrong Pet 8th street
Ivory didn’t cry in the car on her way to work.She thought she might. Thought she’d at least feel something sharp enough to break her open. But all she felt was the faint buzz of too many feelings packed too tightly. Like static in her chest.By the time she stepped into her office, Denise handed her a coffee and a stack of folders she didn’t remember asking for. Ivory murmured thanks, closed the door, and leaned against it for longer than she should have.She didn’t take off her coat.Instead, she went to the window, untouched coffee in one hand, and stared out at the city.Somewhere in that mess of towers and tinted glass, Willis existed. She imagined him opening his inbox, seeing no message from her. Imagined him walking to a meeting. Imagined him doing everything he always did—with the same grace, the same humor, the same steadiness that had once been the most comforting part of her life.She felt like a traitor.The knock on her door was brisk. Then Miranda stepped in without wa
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