All Chapters of Claimed By The Billionaire: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

DamonI'm done.Done pretending the weight of this isn’t eating me alive. Done holding off on decisions I should’ve made days ago. It’s high time I called for Bianca and friends, or whoever Kay’s been keeping warm in his back pocket.The second my feet hit the floor, I grab my phone from the nightstand. The screen lights up in my palm, casting a glow across the dim room. Behind me, she’s still asleep. Curled near the edge of the bed like the mattress burns her. Like if she moves an inch closer to the center, something will break inside her. Maybe it already has. Maybe I did that.My throat tightens. Looking at her too long feels like swallowing glass, so I tear my gaze away and step onto the balcony. Cold air slaps my skin– It's real, sharp, and punishing. Just like I deserve.I dial Kingsley.He picks up after the third ring. “What’s up, man?”Straight to it. “Good morning, Kay. How soon will Bianca and whoever-the-hell else you’ve got be ready?”There’s a pause. A beat of silence wh

Aria"Hello."Daniel's voice breaks through the static in my mind. I blink, jolted back into the moment, fingers still curled loosely around the ceramic cup."Sorry," I say quickly, managing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just... wandering thoughts. You know how it is sometimes."He nods, his expression softening. "All too well."I take another sip of the espresso, letting the bitterness ground me. It helps. A little.Daniel leans back in his chair, folding his arms in a way that makes him look less like a stranger and more like someone who's sat across from me more than once. "So. You know my name, you know I’ve got two daughters who boss me around like they run the UN, and you know I moved here with a suitcase and a half-broken heart. That’s a decent start. But I’m still trying to figure out who you are.""I'm a terrible shopper," I say with a grin that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.He laughs, warm and genuine. "No, you’re not. You’re just distracted. There’s a difference.""Touché."He t

AriaSteam coils around me like smoke as I press my forehead to the cool tile wall. The water pounds over my back, hot and relentless, but my mind's somewhere else entirely.Today is the end of it. I'm done asking Damon about what happened between us—the sex, the looks, the moments I keep replaying like they mean something. They don’t. Not to him. And I refuse to be that girl, the one who keeps chasing shadows just to feel seen.I tilt my head back and let the spray hit my face. God, I actually told him everything. All of it. From Daniel's name to the espresso to the damn boutique hopping. And for what? He just stood there like a stone, staring at me like I was reading out of someone else’s diary.Still, I’ll give myself credit. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t sugarcoat it. Just told him. That’s got to count for something.I grab the soap and lather off the day—the grime, the weight, the leather that clung to me like shame. Months of this. Months pretending this marriage, this arrangement, do

Damon"Damon?"Her voice is barely there. A whisper, like it’s unsure if it even wants to exist. But it stops me in my tracks.I freeze on the balcony, hand still clutching the phone, Kingsley’s last words still hanging in the air like static. My pulse jumps, but I don’t turn immediately. I wait a beat, listening for more, for confirmation, for anything that’ll tell me if she heard what I just said. About Gina. About my need to reset. About punishing myself for dragging her into this mess.I finally turn, slow, controlled, like I’m disarming a live wire.She’s at the door, blinking, swaying a little, her fingers clutching the door frame like she’s not quite sure how she got there. Eyes half-lidded, skin flushed, and still bundled in the same hoodie and sweats she passed out in. And just like that, I know—she didn’t hear a thing. Not a damn word.Relief floods through me, sharp and sudden.I step toward her immediately, crossing the space between us in three long strides. “What are you

AriaI’m back in bed, curled under the duvet, and for a second, I let the warmth trick me into thinking everything’s fine. That I’m just tired, not emotionally frayed. That my body doesn’t feel like it’s been hit by a train, and my mind isn’t spinning with questions I’ve long stopped asking out loud.Then I hear his footsteps.Damon’s slow, unhurried steps, like he’s taking his time to think through what he’ll say. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders relaxed but not lazy. He stops by my side of the bed, close enough to feel the pressure of his presence even without looking up.“You should shower,” he says.I turn my head toward him, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m weak. I will... soon.”He doesn’t budge. “Someone’s coming to check you out. You’ll want to be cleaned up by the time they get here.”I sigh, eyes still closed. Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll walk away.“You want me to help?” he asks, voice flat, not teasing or flirty—just serious. Serious enough that I open m