All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Secret Heirs : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

~HUNTER’S POV~I shouldn’t have danced with her.That’s what I tell myself as I watch Celine from across the room. She’s gathering the abandoned glasses with that same soft focus she gives to every task. Like she’s anywhere but here. Like she wants to melt into the wallpaper and disappear. But she can’t. Not from me. I see her.And it’s starting to piss me off how much I do. How much I can’t stop. I swirl the whiskey in my glass, pretending it’s the reason my hands are tense. It’s not.“You know,” Caroline says from beside me, “I thought you had better self-control.”I turn to her slowly. She’s smiling, but there’s too much sharpness in her expression. Caroline always knew how to dig.“Excuse me?” I ask, lifting my glass to my lips. The alcohol burns. It doesn’t help. Caroline tilts her head. Her blonde hair is pinned back in a way that makes her look less dangerous than she is. She’s been my cousin since birth. My best friend is longer than that. But right now, she’s the last

~CELINE’S POV~The air in the hallway feels thick. Suffocating. It’s pressing in on me from all sides. I should leave. I should walk past Hunter, answer Cole, and pretend this moment never happened. But I don’t. Because Hunter doesn’t move.His eyes stay locked on mine, dark and unreadable, the way they always are when he’s thinking something he won’t say out loud. His body is still, but there’s a suspense in his stance—like he’s holding himself back. Like if I push him, even a little, he might snap. I swallow hard and shift my weight, gripping Caesar’s toy tighter. “I should go,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. “He’s waiting.” Hunter’s jaw tightens. And then, quietly….too quietly…..he says, “He can wait.” I blink. “What?” Hunter breathes out sharply, but it doesn’t sound like frustration. It sounds like something heavier. Something he doesn’t want to admit. And then his voice drops lower, colder. Sharper.“Or maybe he can figure it out himself.” A chill runs down

~HUNTER’S POV~The club is loud. Too loud. The bass thrums through my chest, banging inside me like a second heartbeat. Bodies move around me, neon lights slicing through the darkness, illuminating faces I don’t recognize—and don’t care to. The air is thick with sweat, alcohol, and desperation. Vincent, on the other hand, is thriving. He leans against the bar like he owns the place, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches me with amusement. “See?” he shouts over the music, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “This is exactly what you needed.” I take a slow sip of my drink, feeling the burn of whiskey slide down my throat. I don’t answer. I’m not sure if I agree. A woman slides into the space next to me, her perfume cloying and sweet. She’s gorgeous—long legs, dark eyes, a perfect, practiced smile. She leans in, pressing her fingers lightly against my arm. “Haven’t seen you here before,” she purrs. “You don’t look like the type.” I should be interested. I sho

~CELINE’S POV~I notice it immediately. The change. The space. The agonizing silence. Breakfast is usually tense, but today, it’s different. Hunter doesn’t throw any sharp remarks my way. Doesn’t send one of his unreadable glances across the table. He doesn’t even look at me. I linger at the dining room entrance, waiting for something—anything—but he just keeps eating, scrolling through his phone like I don’t exist. Like last night never happened. Vincent had crashed here, coming back all wasted and puking his lungs out, the head maid had almost lost her wit, trying to get him upstairs to the guest room.And, of course, picks up on it. He always does. “What’s with the mood, Reid?” Vincent smirks, stabbing into his eggs. “Didn’t sleep well?” Hunter doesn’t even glance up. “I slept fine.” My hands clench at my sides. Why does this bother me so much? I tell myself I’m imagining the effect in his voice, the hesitation. That last night didn’t mean anything—not to him,

~HUNTER’S POV~Dinner was quiet, just the way I preferred it. No chatter, no distractions. The roast was cooked perfectly….tender, rich, seasoned just right. I barely looked up from my plate as I muttered, “This is good.”The head maid, standing off to the side, offered a small smile. “Celine prepared the meal tonight, sir.”My hand froze mid-cut. Knife and fork clinked softly against the porcelain as I set them down. My eyes shifted to my right.Celine. She was already beside me, delicate hands steadying a silver jug as she poured water into my empty glass. Her scent hit me first, subtle, sweet, and warm like honey and jasmine. Too close. I leaned back slightly, needing space, needing to breathe. Then….fuck. She slipped. Just a little, barely a tremor, but enough that cold water spilled onto my hand. Her gasp was soft but sharp, and she scrambled to fix it. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to….” she fumbled for a napkin, panic in her voice.The head maid stepped in immediately.