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82: A Murderer
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2025-03-09 18:32:16
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Married To The Billionaire I Hate 140: The Long Con
Stevie-lou's POV.It started with a warning. A heads-up. A whisper over wine and dim lighting."He has two meetings tomorrow. One at nine, one at twelve. Big shots. Foreign investors," I told Jeremy, keeping my voice low even though we were alone in the rooftop bar. My nails tapped the glass of my mimosa. "If they pull out, Hart bleeds. Bad."Jeremy didn’t even flinch. He leaned back in his chair, that slow, dangerous smirk pulling at his lips. Dressed in all black, like always. He looked like sin and sex and danger, and he was mine. Still mine."You got the names?"I nodded, passed him the folded napkin I wrote them on.He took it, barely glancing, before tucking it into his jacket. "Say less."That was the first time. The first chaos. Jeremy made some calls. Hired a guy who hired a guy who knew a guy. Something about an anonymous protest happening downtown. Just enough noise to block traffic, delay cars, reroute important men with no time to waste.The investors didn’t make it to Ha
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 139: Playing The Perfect Wife
Stevie-lou's POV.The honeymoon ended faster than it started.Smith had to get back to work, back to his throne at Hart Enterprise, where a single misstep meant losing billions and every shark in the water smelled blood. And me? I got a front-row seat to the life I’d only ever seen in dreams. Luxury. Power. Diamonds for breakfast, pearls for lunch. All wrapped in Smith’s smile like I was the luckiest woman alive."I have a surprise for you," he said one evening, stepping into the penthouse still in his tailored navy suit, tie loosened, phone glued to his hand.I looked up from the couch, brushing popcorn crumbs off my robe. "Another one?"He gave a crooked grin. "You're going to want to put on shoes for this."Ten minutes later, we were downstairs, and the valet drove up something that looked like it belonged in a superhero movie. A Bugatti La Voiture Noire. Black. Gleaming. Worth about $19 million."Holy sh*t," I gasped, my mouth hanging open.Smith just chuckled, handed me the keys,
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 138: Fever Dreams And Silk Lies
Smith's POV.My head was pounding.Not the kind of pounding that comes from a few glasses of wine or a late night, but the kind that makes your whole skull feel like it's cracking open from the inside. It throbbed with each breath I took, like a drum beating in my ears. I groaned, forcing my eyes open even though my lids felt like sandpaper. Everything was too damn bright. The curtains weren’t even drawn. Just a wide-open window to the Miami skyline, pouring sunlight into the suite like it had no mercy.I sat up slowly, every muscle protesting. My suit was still on me...wrinkled, sweaty, uncomfortable. Jacket half-off my shoulders. Tie loosened, hanging around my neck like a noose. My shirt was half unbuttoned and sticking to my chest. My mouth tasted like cotton. My tongue felt thick. I looked around, trying to focus through the haze."Petunia?" I croaked.And then I saw her.She was sleeping like a dream beside me. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillow like silk threads, her mouth
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 137: Not Your Typical Honeymoon
Stevie-lou’s POV.The presidential suite smelled like roses and expensive linen. The suite was bathed in low, warm lighting, gold accents reflecting off glass. Smith had his hand on my waist the moment the door shut behind us."God, Petunia…" he whispered against my neck, his voice thick with emotion and desire. "I’ve waited so long for this night. I’m losing my damn mind."I forced a laugh, soft and shy, the way I knew he liked. “We’re married now,” I said, tilting my head, brushing my fingers through his thick hair. “You don’t have to wait anymore.”His lips crushed against mine, hungry and possessive. He backed me up against the wall, kissing like a man who had been starving for years. His hands fumbled with the zipper of my dress, but I gently stopped him, brushing my fingers over his.“Not so fast,” I murmured. “Let me get us something to drink. You look like you need to relax first.”He grinned, flushed and breathless, hair slightly tousled. “Fine. But hurry.”I turned away, gli
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 136: The Wedding Trap
Stevie-Lou's POVThe thing about revenge is that it tastes better slow. You let it simmer. You add sugar, lies, soft kisses. You let the man believe he’s safe, loved, maybe even saved. And then you pull the rug.Smith Hart thought he found the one. He really did. And I played that part with the kind of grace that would make Oscar winners cry.I watched him now, standing at the altar. Tall, powerful, in his black tux that probably cost more than what my dad needed for his surgery. A fucking heart transplant. One point three million dollars. Just that. And Smith had it. Sitting in one of his fat accounts, probably bored. But when my father needed him, he refused to help."Not my problem," he said.My father died a week later. Gasping for air in a hospital room that smelled like antiseptic and poverty.So here I was. Petunia Monroe. Orphan. Some perfect ballet dancer that Smith Hart fell in love with. Sweet. Charming. Smart. Mysterious.His fiancée.I had already let my real mother fly
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 135: Meeting The Family
Smith's POV.Emily poured herself another glass of red wine, the deep crimson liquid swirling in the glass as she tilted it to her lips. Her reading glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, and her keen eyes skimmed over the pages of a thick manuscript...some up-and-coming author her publishing house had just signed. She looked so at ease in her cozy Hamptons home, legs tucked beneath her on the wide cream armchair, elegant in a charcoal turtleneck and worn jeans. The streaks of silver in her shoulder-length brown hair shone under the golden afternoon light that filtered through the tall windows. Outside, the trees swayed gently, leaves rustling in the wind, and inside, the fireplace crackled, throwing warm, flickering shadows across the Persian rug and soft cream walls."You’ve been awfully quiet," she said, her voice was calm but laced with suspicion, still not looking up. "Either you're hiding something, or you’re about to fire someone again."I leaned back on the opposite couch,
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 134: The Sweetest Lie
Stevie-lou's POV.He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear again, like he always did when we were out together. A signature move. A gentle caress that screamed affection to anyone watching. And I smiled up at him, letting my eyes soften just the way he liked. My lashes lowered, lips parting slightly, the faintest curve playing at the corners of my mouth. I’d perfected it.I hated the way my skin tingled under his touch...not because I wanted him, hell no...but because I was so damn good at pretending, I could fool even my own body. It betrayed me every time, responding to his closeness like a lover’s would. It made my stomach turn."You look beautiful tonight, Petunia," Smith said, his voice low and deliberate, fingers brushing the small of my back like he owned me."You always say that," I teased, brushing my fingers lightly along his wrist, my nails just grazing his skin."Because it’s always true."His eyes held mine a second too long, just enough to tell me what was coming. His ga
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 133: Red Wine And Reckless First Kiss
Smith’s POV.It had been days.And I couldn’t get her out of my damn head.Petunia Monroe.That name had stuck in my brain like a thorn I couldn’t pull out. Everywhere I turned, she was there. Not physically. But in my head. In meetings. In the boardroom while numbers were being thrown around, projections, investments, power plays…I saw her face. The way she tilted her head. The way her eyes held mine when we spoke.I had tried to fuck her out of my system. Tried it with a blonde influencer who kept giggling every time I so much as looked her way. Then with a brunette who knew how to moan on cue and say all the right things. Nothing. It all felt like cardboard. Cold. Pointless.She was still there. Her black feathered leotard, the way it hugged her body like it was made for her. That ballet performance wasn’t just art…it was a goddamn message. I didn’t know what it said, but I felt it like a slap to the chest.And I couldn’t stop playing it in my head.During dinner, seated alone at m
Married To The Billionaire I Hate 132: His Eyes, Her Mask
Stevie-lou’s POV.My heart was still racing as I wiped the sweat off my forehead. That performance had eaten me raw. Every muscle in my body was still vibrating. The black feathered leotard I wore...designed with precision and attitude...hugged my skin like a second layer, still warm from the heat of the spotlight. I felt it in my bones. The music. The rhythm. The eyes. Especially his.I had seen the way Smith Hart looked at me.He was far back in the dark hall but there was no missing the way he leaned forward during the dance. The others might’ve been sipping their drinks, whispering among themselves or pretending to care, but not him. Smith Hart had been watching like I was the only thing moving in that whole damn room. His stare cut through the air, bold and direct, as if he had seen something in me nobody else had. It shook me a little. Not because I cared. But because I knew exactly who he was...and I despised everything he stood for.The man was ruthless. Sharp-suited, sharp-to
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