All Chapters of The Billionaire Who Wants Me Next: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

ElaraThe door clicked shut behind me with more force than I intended, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. I didn’t bother putting off my shoes immediately, nor straightened the rumples of my dresses. Everything inside me was still too tight, too coiled, like a spring wound past its limit.Denise’s voice came from the living room almost instantly.“Well?” she called, already halfway out of her seat. “How did it go with Louis?”I let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through my hair as I stepped further inside. “Stupid,” I muttered, my tone flat but edged with something brittle. “It was stupid, and I wish I didn’t go.”Denise blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “That bad?”I let out a humorless laugh, finally kicking off my heels and tossing them aside carelessly. “Worse. He didn’t even try to pretend. Not even a little.” I walked past Denise,heading toward the kitchen, needing some water, to distance myself from the memory of that suffocating meeting.De

ELARAThe resort looked like something out of a dream,white marble floors that reflected the chandelier lights like a thousand tiny stars, walls of glass overlooking an endless stretch of blue water, and a silence so deliberate it felt curated. Even the air smelled expensive, like vanilla and something colder beneath it.I shouldn’t have been impressed.But I was.Alistair always did this—chose places that reminded you just how far above everyone else he stood.I found him seated in a private lounge overlooking the ocean, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He didn’t look at me immediately. He never did. It was always calculated… controlled.“Why here?” I asked, stepping closer, my heels echoing too loudly in the quiet.His gaze finally lifted, sharp and unreadable. “I own this place.”Of course he did.“And I prefer privacy,” he added, his voice low and final, like that explained everything.It did.I nodded. “I understand.”A lie, maybe. But understanding

LouisI walk out of the bathroom with the lingering heat of the shower still clinging to my skin, a thin trail of steam following me into the bedroom. The first thing I see is Celia—standing in front of the full-length mirror, tilting her head slightly as she inspects her reflection like it holds answers only she can decipher. She runs her fingers through her hair, adjusting a strand, then smooths her dress over her hips with practiced ease.For a moment, I just watched her.There’s something calculated about the way she moves, like every gesture is rehearsed, deliberate. Even now, in what should be a private moment, she performs.Her phone rings.The sharp sound cuts through the quiet, and she glances at the screen. Her expression shifts subtle, but I catch it. Curiosity, maybe concern. Without a word to me, she turns and walks toward the balcony, sliding the glass door open before stepping outside.I don’t follow.Instead, I reach for my shirt, buttoning it slowly while keeping half

LouisThe moment Celia walks in, I know something is wrong.It’s in the way she shuts the door too controlled. In the way she walks toward me too deliberately. And most of all, in the way she folds her arms and just… stares.No greeting. No smile.Just tension.I loosen my tie slightly, watching her carefully. “What’s the problem?”Her lips press into a thin line. “Do you think I’m a fool?”I blink once, then exhale through my nose. Straight to it, then.“I don’t think you’re a fool,” I reply evenly. “And whatever this is, it can wait. You should start getting ready—we’re having dinner with my grandfather tomorrow evening.”She doesn’t move.“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.“Tell you what?”“That you were meeting Elara.”There it is.I pause, studying her now, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her uncomfortable. “Are you keeping tabs on me?”Her eyes flash. “Don’t do that.”“Do what?”“Don’t try to twist this. I’m not stupid. I know what gaslighting means.”A short la

ElaraI knew the moment I stepped into the penthouse that something was off.The air was heavier than usual—thick with smoke and something darker, something restless. The faint scent of whiskey lingered, sharp and unapologetic. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor as I walked in, my eyes already searching for him.I found Alistair by the window.Jacket discarded. Tie loosened. Shirt half-unbuttoned. A glass of amber liquid in one hand, a cigarette burning lazily between his fingers. He didn’t turn when I entered, but I knew he had heard me. He always did.I walked up to him without a word and take the cigarette from his fingers.Before he could react, I dipped it into the untouched plate on the side table, crushing the flame.Silence stretched between us.“Why did you try to kiss me?” I asked, my voice steady despite the tension clawing at my chest.He exhaled slowly, then turned his head just enough for me to see the sharp edge of his face. “Forget it.”My brows pulled to