บททั้งหมดของ THE BILLIONAIRE'S FORGOTTEN NIGHT: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

ARIA’s POV“You look like someone about to be ruined.” The stranger said flatly. I blinked up at him. The room still tilted at its edges, my fingers were still curled around the fabric of his sleeve, and my dignity was barely somewhere on the floor between the barstool and where I was currently standing. I straightened up and stared at him for a few seconds before snorting.“You’re late, If you wanted to warn me, you should’ve done that three hours ago.”His hands were still at my waist as if he hadn’t quite decided whether I would collapse the second he let go.I looked down at where his fingers were wrapped around my arm.“You can let go now,” I said, even though I didn’t mean it. I actually wanted him to hold me a little longer for no exact reason.I looked at him properly now. He was tall and put together in a way that cost money. He was wearing a tan shirt, no tie, top button undone like he had loosened it himself, an expensive watch on his wrist. The polished shoes that had no

XAVIER’s POVIt was five o’clock in the morning and I had ejaculated thrice already. I looked at the pretty lady on the same bed with me, I had fucked her so hard in the last few hours, as we explored different sex positionsShe was now sleeping peacefully beside me, like all her problems had been solved with the sex we had. I looked at her buttocks humped in front of me and felt like sliding my cock in for another round, but I dismissed that on a second thought, I felt she needed the sleep, so I just rolled to the other side of the bed.The room had shifted from dark to that specific shade of grey that existed at the border of night and morning. Beside me, she breathed slowly and evenly, her dark chestnut hair fanned across the pillow in a way that looked almost deliberate. In sleep she looked nothing like the woman who had fired back at me with sharp eyes and zero patience for pity.I had no business watching her this long, so I turned my gaze to the ceiling.I never planned my nig

Aria’s POVI sat with the acceptance letter and the pregnancy test side by side on my desk for three days before I made the decision. It was a painful decision to make all by myself but there was no one to call.That was the part nobody warned you about, it’s not about the fear, not the morning sickness, not even the math of how a single income covers two lives. The part that actually broke me open was sitting in that quiet apartment with two pieces of paper in front of me and realizing I had absolutely no one left to call.My mother had passed when I was nineteen. Kara had been the only person I would have gone to instead. The person I built four years of trust around, the person who knew exactly how to talk me through a crisis. But Kara was gone, her side of the apartment stripped bare, and whatever version of comfort she might have offered now belonged to a friendship that no longer existed.Charles wasn’t an option either. He had made that decision for both of us the moment I wa

Aria’s POVI told Denise I needed until the end of the day, thanked her and walked out of the office.It wasn’t a real solution, just a delay dressed up as one, a way to buy myself a few hours to figure out which obligation I could push back furthest without consequences catching up to me first. She accepted it without argument, the way people in her position learned to, and handed me a folder of paperwork I folded into my bag without reading properly.Bryan had been moved to a regular room on the second floor for observation, more out of caution than necessity, the doctor explained, since the sprain itself didn’t require an overnight stay but the hospital preferred to monitor swelling for a few hours before discharge. I sat beside his bed while he flipped through a worn picture book someone had left in the room, his bandaged ankle propped on a pillow, his attention already drifting from the pain toward boredom which I had learnt in the last five years as his mother, was always a go

Arthur’s POV I had the east wing guest room prepared three days before Bryan was due to arrive. Margaret had looked at me sideways when I gave the instruction, though, not impolitely but with the expression of a woman who had managed this household for over three decades and knew when there were particular changes in the owner’s behavior. The east wing guest room was the one with the window seat overlooking the garden, the one I had repainted twice in the last decade trying to get the color right, but had being left unused since Xavier was a boy grown enough to no longer need it. I didn’t explained myself to Margaret. I simply told her to have it ready, to stock it with things a five-year-old might find useful, and to ensure the kitchen had the ingredients for the pancakes I intended to make myself on Saturday morning regardless of what the cook had already planned. The truth was, I had been thinking about Bryan Ashford since the afternoon I met him in that hospital play are