Semua Bab 70 Days With The Wrong Billionaire : Bab 41 - Bab 50

JAMIE'S POV The leather chair beneath me feels like a cage. My knuckles white, as they grip the edge of my desk until I can feel the wood bite into my palms. My wrist still burns where that bastard Matteo had grabbed me earlier at the hospital. Stepping like the fucking guard dog he is, blocking me from Aria… it’s been playing on repeat in my head. I was so close to her. To my girl. And he shut me down like I was nothing. Now, the humiliation is morphing into rage. “…and who is this mystery woman with Noah King? The pair looked incredibly cozy at the recent gala. Sources say this isn’t just another fling.” A shrill, cheerful voice chirps from the wall-mounted screen. I blink, my gaze snapping up to the television. "Let’s take a look at the mysterious lady." the entertainment journalist gushed. On screen, a freeze-frame of Aria filled the display. They zoom in on her dress, a sleek designer piece, running on-screen price break down. "Elegant, understated, yet undeniabl

ARIA’S POV The human body is fragile thing, yet witnessing the mechanics of a bone marrow transplant makes you realize how resilient we can be. The bone marrow transplant went smoother than I dared to hope. It wasn't the open-chest surgery I had terrifyingly pictured in my mind even though I have been told several times it isn't, my mind seems to just have it own interpretation. Noah, as the donor, went through a few days of injections to boost his stem cell production. He told me it felt like having the flu aches, fatigue but he powered through it like it was nothing. On the day of collection, he sat through apheresis while they filtered his blood to gather the stem cells. He was awake the whole time, a little uncomfortable but mostly bored, according to him. My baby, on the other hand, slept through most of it, thankfully. The transplant wasn’t surgery in the dramatic sense I’d imagined. The stem cells were infused into him like a regular blood transfusion. He d

ARIA'S POV They were the two high-society women who had walked up to our table earlier to eagerly greet Noah—the only ones he had actually answered with a brief verbal acknowledgment instead of his usual dismissive, icy nod. I remembered them because I found his behaviour a little odd. So I was right? An eyebrow pencil slips from one of the girls, clattering into the sink. Yeah, you hypocrites. They had complimented my dress and hair earlier. "Oh... Miss Aria," the first one stammers, her voice cracking. "You... you were here..." "Yes, I was," I reply, forcing a bright, fake smile onto my face as I gracefully adjust my hair in the mirror and then wash my hands painfully slowly. I don't give them the satisfaction of a scene. Turning on my heel, I gracefully walk out of the room, leaving them standing in their own awkwardness. Though I look calm and unruffled on the outside, inside, I am a mess. Who the hell is Stephanie? What kind of profound relationship does s

ARIA'S POV "Sandra, please ensure the production house in Paris receives the updated fabric specifications by Friday," I murmur into my wireless earpiece, my eyes tracking the digital spreadsheets on my laptop screen. "And also tell the logistics team that I want a personal audit of the silk shipments before they clear customs." "Received, Boss," Sandra's voice echoes from the other side of the line. I can hear the distant, familiar hum of the Parisian streets through her microphone, a sound that instantly tugs at my chest. "We’ve managed the workflow seamlessly since you've been away, but mon dieu, the design studio feels hollow without you. When are you coming back to France?" C

ARIA'S POV “Well, this is it,” Alexis says for the umpteenth time today, spinning slowly in front of the three-way mirrors of the private styling suite.I try to hide my smile, knowing exactly how many times she has uttered those specific words over the last four hours as I nod, pleased by the dress too. “You look stunning, Alexis. Charles won’t know what hit him.”“Thank you so much for doing this with me, Aria,” Alexis gushes, smoothing down the front of the gown. “Honestly, I wouldn't have known what to do if it was just me. I might have bought the entire store out of panic.” When she texted me this morning begging for help with an outfit, mentioning the gut feeling that her boyfriend, Charles, might finally propose during their upcoming anniversary dinner. And she didn't want to look 'tattered,' which, in Alexis’s vocabulary, simply meant anything less than perfection.She has finally settled on this gown. And it has been the best in the options so far too.The satin fabric hug