All Chapters of 70 Days With The Wrong Billionaire : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

ARIA'S POVNoah’s phone buzzes, the vibration cutting through the tension in the room. He shoots a dark glance at me. “I need to take this.”He doesn’t wait for my reply and I watch his broad shoulders squaring as he presses the receiver to his ear leaving the room.I stare at the door for a few more seconds, irritation prickling under my skin. I'm annoyed by his hot-and-cold mood swings. One second he is worshipping my skin, and the next he is tossing bitter, passive-aggressive jabs about my past as if he has a right to judge me.I stand up from the lounger, smoothing down the rumpled fabric of my yellow dress, and march out of the cinema room. In the hallway I nearly collided with Mira. Her face lights up the second she sees me."Miss Aria! Oh, thank goodness you're back. The house has been so monotonous without you." she chirps enthusiastically, waving her hands for me to follow her. “Perfect timing.” She links her arm through mine before I can protest and steers me down a diff

ARIA'S POV “Miss Aria! You’re here. Matteo mentioned you were coming over.” Jane says as she hurries over. Rose and Emily—the girls who had helped me with my makeup for the gala weeks ago abandons their clipboards to join us. Both of them are smiling like they’ve been waiting for an excuse to leave their work.“Those blends you recommended were perfect,” Rose starts. “The drape is incredible. We’ve already started combining too. I hope you can help us check them out before leaving.”"True." Emily chimes in. "You've this way of making cuts look effortless, Miss Aria.” She leans in whispering. “If you ever need a fit model or just want to test out your new textures, please let us know first."I laugh softly nodding, a little embarrassed. “I’m just here to pick up some fabrics. Nothing special.”Jane glances at the bag I’m holding. “Is that lunch? Please tell me it is for the boss. He’s been locked in meetings since seven this morning. Hasn’t touched anything. The whole building is sur

TWENTY HOURS EARLIER NOAH'S POV “Any new update on Aria’s case from four years ago?” I ask without looking up from the screen. Falcon says, standing in front of my desk, tablet in hand. “KC said he’s compiling everything. He’ll send the full file by tonight at the latest.” I stop scrolling. The words she said in the cinema room are still sitting under my skin like glass. I asked for it. How many motherfuckers has she looked at with those wide, dark brown eyes and asked for touch? Am I supposed to feel some sort of pathetic gratitude or luck because I was the first man to have her? “Tell him to hold off.” Falcon pauses. “Sir?” “Tell him to scrap it. I don’t want to see it.” He stares at me for a second too long, clearly thrown. I’ve been pushing for these answers for weeks. Now that they’re close, I’m shutting the door. I needed to feel... relieved back then. Her words play in my head again. I will only get more fucking pissed. Might even end his motherfuck

The scent of cedarwood, leather, and steam starch clings to my clothes as I slip into the back seat of the car. I miss doing this. I miss the scratch of charcoal, the debate over grain lines, the chaos of creation. But more than that, I miss my son more than I expected. Daisy would lose her mind over the encounter with Stephanie. Realising how long it’s been since we properly talked makes me pull out my phone and type a quick reminder to myself. ***** I slide off my heels, reaching for a pair of soft indoor slippers, when my fingers freeze. There are two unfamiliar pairs of shoes resting on the display shelf. Someone is definitely inside the house. Not just one person. An unexplainable tension knots in the small of my back. Without even realizing it, my steps slow down naturally. In the salon two women sit close together on the large sofa. Naomi King and Stephanie Langford. Both turn when I appear. Their expressions still hold the remnants of whatever they were laughi

ARIA'S POV “Just a reminder, the appointment with Mr. Junior is still locked for next Thursday at eleven. He’s refused every alternative I’ve offered.” Sandra’s voice comes through the speaker. He said he will only deal with the owner of Aureline. No second designer, no senior associate. Only you.”I pinch the bridge of my nose, sketchbook still open on my lap. “Did he give any reason?”“Only that the pieces are for a private collection and he trusts your eye. He’s already transferred the holding deposit. I can try to push it another week if you need more time in New York.”“No. Keep it. I’ll be back in Paris by then.”"Perfect. I will lock it in immediately," Sandra sighed with immense relief. "We are all eagerly awaiting your return, boss. Safe travels."We go over a few more details—fabric arrivals, the junior team’s progress on the spring samples—before I end the call. Less than a week left. Noah and I still haven’t spoken. The fight— can it even be called that—has stretched l