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Last Updated:
2025-07-07 19:26:37
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Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother Someone to fight for
The morning light felt too sharp.Cillian sat on the edge of the bed, bent over his knees, shirt wrinkled, hair a little less put together than he’d like. Roo had taken up watch by the door, tail occasionally twitching but otherwise still, like he knew better than to interrupt.Benita was still asleep.Wrapped in the comforter, one arm sprawled across his pillow like she hadn’t moved all night. Her breathing was steady, calm.Cillian rubbed a hand over his face and stared at the floor. Everything about this should’ve felt impossible. And yet—it didn’t. It was the first thing in months that made any damn sense.He stood quietly, padded out of the room, and went downstairs to feed Roo and make coffee. The ritual grounded him—slow, simple, necessary. The sun filtered through the kitchen windows, catching on the polished counter and the marble floors.His phone buzzed on the counter. He didn’t even glance at it the first time. But when it rang again—twice, back-to-back—he sighed and pick
Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother Our first night together
Cillian stared at the woman in his hallway like she’d materialized from a memory he never wanted back.Isla set her sunglasses on the console table with a careless flick of her wrist. “You’re going to just stand there?”“You’re trespassing,” he said, voice low.She blinked, almost amused. “Oh, darling. Don’t be dramatic. I still have the gate code. Besides, I brought coffee.” She held up two paper cups, like peace offerings.“You’ll need to take it with you,” he said, stepping around the counter now. “And your bag.”She didn’t move. Not right away.“You don’t mean that,” she said quietly, her smile faltering. “You don’t. This is me. It’s us.”“There is no us,” he snapped. “There hasn’t been for years. You don’t live here. You don’t get to come in whenever you want.”Isla’s mouth opened slightly, eyes narrowing. “Is this because of Be—”“Don’t.” His voice sliced through the air. “You don’t get to say her name. You don’t get to come in here and act like you still have any right to my li
Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother Playing wife
Cillian didn’t sleep much.Not because she was there, but because she was.At some point after two, he heard the soft creak of the stairs and the door to the guest room click shut. Roo had already abandoned his usual spot by Cillian’s feet and followed her out like it was the most natural thing in the world.Traitor.Now the sun had the nerve to rise, and he was standing in the kitchen about to play wife.Benita blinked awake to a shaft of morning light slicing through half-closed blinds.It took her a moment to place the room—not hers, but strangely more familiar than the house she lived in now. Cillian’s guest room. Crisp linen sheets. A dresser still full of teas and towels. Those brightly colored curtains she used to hate.She shifted under the covers, stretching slowly, and turned toward the window. Her eyes landed on the old hoodie draped over the chair—navy blue, frayed cuffs.Next to it, a pair of grey joggers. Folded too neatly for Cillian to have done it recently.She didn’t
Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother Just for tonight
The dinner table welcomed Benita like it had been waiting for her all these while.It was only a month since she left this, but everything seemed so different. Maybe it was the candles pushed to one side of the table, or maybe it was just Kent’s choice for dinner. I mean why choose spaghetti for gods sake.Cillian watched her quietly as she settled in.He didn’t trust his brothers not to ruin this evening for him but he didn’t trust himself to hold back either.When she walked in, something in him had quietened— the raging storm he couldn’t share with anyone else. Benita looked up and their eyes locked. She looked tired. At peace.“How’s the new place?” He finally asked, pouring her a glass of wine.“Yes, yes, how’s the little hut?” Kent chimed in, but Syl pinched him under the table. “Shut up.” He mouthed.Benita glanced at them, and smiled. “It’s quiet.” She said, “sometimes, I miss this… people, noise… company.” Her eyes landed on Cillian.He froze.“You miss this?” He asked,
Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother The day since Isla…
The noise of the office didn’t bother her today.Phones ringing. A printer chewing paper in the hallway. Lola rearranging stacks of documents.It all folded into a dull, manageable hum—one that was just enough to keep her thoughts from drifting toward the things she couldn’t fix.Benita sat at her desk, hands motionless on the keyboard, eyes unfocused on the email she’d opened five minutes ago and never read.She hadn’t spoken to Cillian since… everything.Since Isla.Since every tabloid headline decided her heartbreak was old news.There was a framed photo on her bookshelf—her photo of herself and Gaby. Benita got up and turned it face-down without a word.Her phone buzzed once.Kent.I’m downstairs. You free for a minute?Benita stared at the screen. Considered ignoring it. Then typed:Come up.A moment later, a soft knock at her door. Then Kent stepped in, dressed like he was dropping by from a quick office run. He held up two coffee cups.“Figured caffeine was safer at ten a.m.”
Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother Shame. On all of us.
Cillian poured his third cup of coffee in the dark.He didn’t bother turning on the main lights. Just the dim overhanging bulb above the sink, casting the kitchen in a low gold wash that somehow made everything look worse.He looked around and released a sharp exhale.The silence felt personal—like it disapproved of him.He sipped the burning coffee again. It scalded his tongue. He didn’t care.His phone buzzed again.Another ping. Another article. Another caption.“Finally over Benita Bellington?”“Was he even interested in her?”He didn’t click. Not anymore. He’d seen them all already—each a more insufferable twist of the same knife. He stared at that one viral photo— that had exceeded all other two.Him and Isla walking out of Aubergine, her hand wrapped lightly around his arm, smiling like she’d won something. And him? He couldn’t even remember what he was thinking in that moment.Letting her hold him like that. He had always known deep in his gut, that Isla was both promise an
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