The Billionaire’s Regret のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

ELARA’S POV I didn’t realize I had drifted off to sleep until my phone buzzed, startling me awake. I have been desperately searching for a way to distract myself, anyone to talk to, just to escape the suffocating silence with the man sitting next to me. But luck isn’t on my side both of the two people I talk to were too busy to pick up my calls or texts. Jenna, definitely has her hands full. I’ve been away for days now, and the workload had piled up. She is juggling inspections of the Hale project and drowning in paperwork, even though I was trying to help remotely. I know it’s not enough. I sighed, guilt gnawing at me. My phone buzzed again. I thought it’s mom replying to my text about leaving for New Jersey. But It’s just a notification, one from the game I’d been playing earlier. All my lives had been restored. I stared at the screen, unimpressed, and tossed the phone back into my bag. Looking out the window, I noticed the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky

ELARA’S POV “Nathaniel,” the old man greeted in a thick Italian accent, his voice deep and warm. “You made it.” “As always,” Nate responded with his signature charming smile. “And you brought her too.” Martino’s gaze shifted to me, a hint of surprise flickering in his sharp eyes. “I did,” Nate replied smoothly before turning to me. “Sweetheart, I’d like to reintroduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Bellini.”Nate turns to me. Something about him calling sweetheart felt a little strange. “Oh, cut the formalities, Nate,” the old man interjected with a playful wave of his hand. “I’m Martino, and this is my wife, Rosa.” He gestured to the elegant woman standing beside him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I say, returning their warm smiles with one of my own. “The pleasure is all mine, dear,” Rosa exclaimed, her tone full of genuine warmth. “You must be Elara.” “Yes, ma’am,” I replied, feeling a strange comfort in her presence. “Oh, Martino, she’s even prettier in person,” Rosa nudged h

NATE'S POV She walked in with Nicholas DeLuca. Of all the people in the world, she chose him. And to make it worse, her hand was linked with his filthy one.I couldn’t focus on anything else. The cheerful chatter around me faded into a dull hum, like white noise. My gaze was locked on her and that smug bastard beside her.Didn’t she tell him she was with me? Or did she blow our cover and spill the truth about us? Could it be that she invited him here to expose everything and make me look like some pathetic liar?No, she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. We’d both be ruined if Mr. Bellini found out that we were faking this entire arrangement.But then the memory of how close she looked with him back in Vegas replayed in my head. The way they stood together there was unsettling. And now, seeing her this close to him again... it feels like too much of a coincidence.Elara isn’t the type to let men get close to her. At least, the Elara I knew wasn’t. The old Elara kept her distance, she nev

NATE’S POV “You’re unbelievable, Nate,” Elara says sharply as my hand settles on her waist, guiding her onto the dance floor. “Am I?” I reply, smirking as I raise an eyebrow at her. Her cheeks flush slightly more from frustration than anything else and I can’t help but admire how stunning she looks when she’s angry. I spin her in time with the music, keeping her close. “It’s true,” she snaps, her voice low but firm. “Why would you do that?” “Do what?” I ask, feigning innocence. “You know what—” she starts, but I twirl her before she can finish, cutting off her words and leaving her breathless when she faces me again. She exhales sharply, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to make a scene.” The song ends, and she pulls away from me so quickly it’s like my touch burns her. I don’t like it, but I let it slide for now. Then the music changes, and my chest tightens as the unmistakable rhythm of a tango fills the air. I glance at Elara. She freezes as soon as the firs

ELARA’S POV“Wait, are you seriously going dressed like that?” Flavia exclaims, her face a picture of horror as she looks me up and down.I glance at my outfit a loose pajama set from last night, wrinkled and thoroughly inappropriate for public viewing. My only effort at looking presentable had been washing my face and tying my hair into a messy ponytail.“Well… Nate forgot our bags,” I explain with a sheepish shrug. “So I don’t exactly have any yoga friendly clothes to wear.”Flavia gasps dramatically. “You can’t go to yoga in pajamas, silly!” She nudges me playfully, but her tone leaves no room for argument.“I’ll be fine,” I insist, though my resolve weakens under her judgmental gaze.“Nope, not happening. Come on, I think I have something you can change into,” she says, grabbing my hand before I can protest.Before I know it, Flavia is pulling me down the hallway. I don’t even have time to grab my shoes not that I have many options besides the heels I wore yesterday.When we fina