Semua Bab I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis: Bab 241 - Bab 250

I stared at him, incredulous. ‘Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking of buying Fabrizio’s company.’‘Why not? Then I could move the HQ to Skyline and you wouldn’t have to travel.’I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or glare. ‘That’s not how this works.’He didn’t seem put off.‘Look, if everything goes smoothly, I’ll be back in a week. Maybe sooner. I don’t need a babysitter. And this is my job. I don’t just show up at your office uninvited and tell you what to do, do I?’He eyed me sharply. ‘You could turn up anytime. You don’t need an invitation, you’re my wife.’‘Fiancée,’ I corrected automatically. ‘Not wife yet.’‘We’re married in the eyes of the law,’ he reminded me. ‘The wedding certificates are real.’‘Right.’ I stopped mid-step. ‘Wait, if that’s the case, why are we still having the wedding?’‘Because it’s a ceremony, a way to officially announce our relationship to the world.’‘I thought we already did that when we went public on X and Insta,’ I muttered.Ashton turned to face

I flashed a grin, just to see what he’d do. ‘Maybe. I might stick around till the new collection drops.’Ashton sat up straight, visibly annoyed. ‘You said one week. Now you’re talking six months?’I nodded. ‘Exactly.’He started jabbing at his phone.‘What are you doing?’ I asked, half-laughing.‘Texting the pilot. Booking the jet.’‘Relax. I was joking. No need to scramble a plane. I’ll be back before you know it.’He paused, clearly still unconvinced.‘I mean it,’ I said. ‘I’ll be home soon. The team here works fast, especially Fabrizio. We had a meeting this afternoon and blitzed through what would’ve taken a week anywhere else.’He still didn’t look thrilled, but at least he put the phone down.I took that as a win.‘How was your day?’ I asked, stifling a yawn.Then came the business jargon. Terms like ‘synergy’, ‘pipeline optimisation’, ‘strategic pain points’.My eyes glazed over before he even finished the second sentence.A minute in, I was halfway down the headboard, struggl

Ashton gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘It’s a holiday.’He waved off his assistants, opened the door, and nudged me inside.Once we were on the road, he said, ‘The court’s ruled. Franklin Vance got seven years. Embezzlement, tax fraud, forged records. It’s official.’I twisted in my seat. ‘You’re serious?’He nodded. ‘The Vances are scrambling to sell the house just to afford a half-decent appeal lawyer.’I didn’t know what I felt.Relieved, maybe.Glad? Not exactly.Ashton gave my hand a light squeeze. ‘It’s done. Vance Omnia’s tanking. Caroline’s moving cities. They’re not coming after you again.’‘Good.’ I turned towards him. ‘Thank you.’He frowned. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to stop saying that?’‘Right. Sorry. Forgot.’I glanced out the window.The street names didn’t look familiar.‘This isn’t the way home.’‘I booked us into a hotel. I’m not staying in that miserable little house Fabrizio set up.’I opened my mouth to tease him, but he cut in first. ‘I just want a pla

I drove the red convertible a few more blocks before turning into an underground car park off Rue de Vaugirard.My men were already waiting.One of them nodded, climbed into the convertible, and drove off.Another opened the door of a plain black Peugeot.It looked like any other car in Paris, except for the armoured chassis, reinforced undercarriage, and bullet-resistant glass.Those modifications meant the inside was more cramped than usual, not helped by the fact that half the backseat was taken up by a man built like a powerlifter.Kylian Martin popped the cork off a champagne bottle and shouted, ‘Surprise!’I stared at him.The bear of a man rubbed the back of his neck. ‘It’s empty. Simon’d have my head if I spilt booze in the car.’I got in.The driver twisted round in his seat. ‘Welcome back, boss!’‘Good to see you, Olivier.’ I nodded at the red-haired man.He flashed a grin so white it practically lit up the car. ‘Kylian told me you got married. Thought he was chatting shit t

Finally, Fabrizio said, ‘That’s fine. Just keep them private, that’s all.’He perked up noticeably after lunch, and I liked to think I had something to do with that.I planned to show Ashton the reports tonight. Who says a fiancé can’t double as your financial analyst?If he said everything checked out, I’d invest in Valmont & Cie. I had enough money—well, technically Ashton’s money, but he’d said it was mine to spend however I wanted. Still, I’d run it by him first.The afternoon drifted by pleasantly. Paris lived up to its reputation as the gourmet capital of Europe. Fabrizio picked a restaurant with zero Michelin stars, and I still ended up going back for seconds.Okay, fine. Thirds. Plus two slices of cake. The mille-feuille alone could make a grown woman weep.Which explained why I asked Fabrizio to drop me off a few blocks from the hotel. That, of course, meant offering an awkward explanation for why I’d moved out of the lovely, work-adjacent house he’d set up for me and into a