All Chapters of NAKED LIES OF THE BILLIONAIRE: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Slowly, I turned my head toward him. My eyes widened in pure shock, searching his face for any sign that he was joking, that this was somehow a random question thrown carelessly into the air.But his expression remained serious, My mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. Why would he ask that? And why now?. “Huh?” I said.The sound left my mouth almost automatically, more a reflex than a real question. My mind had already heard him the first time, but I repeated it anyway, trying to buy myself a few seconds, just enough time to gather my thoughts. My fingers tightened slightly around the shirt I had just taken off.“Were you once married?” he repeated.This time his voice was slower, more deliberate.I looked at him, he had already moved across the room and was now sitting on the edge of the bed. His legs were crossed casually at the ankle, but there was nothing casual about the way he carried himself. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, his shoulders squared, his eye

“Alright, I’ll be down…” he started, his tone shifting slightly, like he was forcing the conversation to pause instead of ending it.My chest tightened.“…and Clara followed me straight from work. She’ll be staying for some time…” he added. He began walking toward me, closing the small distance between us. My body tensed instinctively, every nerve suddenly aware of his presence. I didn’t move.I couldn’t.My mind was no longer fully in the room. It was somewhere else entirely, so that bitch really did that, On the realization slowly settling into my chest. The blackmailer wasn’t bluffing. This was real. Adrian stopped in front of me, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his body. For a brief second, I thought he might say something else, press further, demand an answer, corner me again.But he didn’t, Instead, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against my cheek. I stayed still, Completely still. My body didn’t respond the way it normally would. No soft smile, no relaxed shoul

The drive to the restaurant wasn’t long, maybe fifteen minutes through the quieter streets on the edge of downtown, but it felt longer with Clara in the front seat. She had the window cracked just enough to let the evening breeze slip in, The radio was on low, some smooth R&B playlist Adrian always defaulted to when he wanted the mood light, and Clara was yapping over it, half stories about a disastrous client meeting earlier that week, half off-key singing along to the chorus whenever a song she liked came on. Her laughter filled the car. We were all dressed elegantly, almost too elegantly for a Thursday night. Adrian wore a charcoal blazer over a black dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, the top button undone just enough to look effortless rather than calculated. Clara had chosen a deep emerald green dress that hugged her shoulders and flared at the knees, sleeveless, simple, expensive. I’d gone with the floor-length black silk slip dress I’d bought months ago and never worn

The waiter arrived with our drinks first, three chilled glasses of white wine, condensation already beading on the stems, and a tall bottle of still water with lemon slices floating inside. He set them down with quiet efficiency: Clara’s Sancerre in front of her, Adrian’s Chinon blend beside him, mine between us. A small basket of warm sourdough followed, wrapped in a linen napkin, the crust still crackling faintly as it cooled.“Enjoy,” he said with a small nod, then vanished again into the rhythm of the room.Clara lifted her glass immediately, swirling the pale liquid once before taking a sip. “Perfect temperature,” she declared, like she’d personally supervised the chilling process. . “You picked well, Adrian.”He raised his own glass in mock salute. “I have excellent taste.”I managed a small smile, and picked up my glass. The wine was crisp, bright with citrus and a faint mineral edge that cut through the lingering tightness in my throat. I took a slow sip, We waited for the

“Take a picture of us both,” Adrian said suddenly, reaching into his pocket for his phone. He unlocked it with a quick swipe of his thumb and handed it across the table to Clara.Clara paused mid-chew, a piece of foie gras still balanced on her fork. She gave him a long, unimpressed look, then rolled her eyes so dramatically I almost laughed despite everything. She set her fork down, wiped her fingers on her napkin, and snatched the phone from his hand.“Okay…” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she angled the camera. “Now pretend like y’all love each other.”Adrian let out a short, surprised laugh, the sound warm and easy, like he was brushing off the jab. “What?” he said, still grinning as he turned toward me. “We don’t have to pretend.”He pulled me closer anyway, arm sliding around my back, palm warm against the silk of my dress. His other hand came up to gently tilt my chin toward him. Then he leaned in and planted a soft, lingering kiss on my cheek, right at the corner of