All Chapters of The Billionaire I Couldn't Resist: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chapter 11Ariana's POVBy Friday evening, I had almost convinced myself that Damien Kingston was no longer occupying an unreasonable amount of space in my thoughts.Almost.It was a convincing lie, perhaps, but still a lie.I had spent the entire week throwing myself into lectures, assignments and work, deliberately keeping my schedule so full that there was barely enough room left to breathe, let alone think about the man who had somehow managed to complicate my life in less than a week.It should have worked.It didn't.Every time my phone buzzed, some irrational part of me wondered if it was him.It never was.I was sitting at my usual desk in the library, staring at the same paragraph in my textbook for what felt like the tenth time, when Lily dropped into the chair opposite me."You're coming tonight."I didn't look up."Coming where?"She stared at me."Oh, don't do that.""Do what?""Act like you don't know what I'm talking about."I finally looked at her.She was smiling."Th

Chapter 13Ariana's POVThe first thing I did after leaving the library was call Mum again.She didn't answer this time.I stared at my phone for a few seconds before slipping it into my pocket.She was probably resting.I adjusted my bag and headed toward Moonstone Café, pushing the thought away as I walked. I had a shift to get to, and worrying about Mum wasn't going to make the bills disappear or finish my assignment.By the time I reached the café, the familiar smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries had already begun to settle my nerves.Moonstone had always been one of the few places where I could switch off, even if only for a few hours.I tied my apron around my waist, tucked my hair away and got to work.The evening rush came quickly.Orders piled up, tables filled, and the sound of conversations mixed with the constant clinking of cups against saucers. I moved from one table to another, taking orders and delivering drinks, barely having enough time to think.And that was

Chapter 15Ariana's POV Last night's sleep was deep….. and I needed that sleep to survive today. Unlike yesterday, today was quite free for me I didn't have a truckload of class and I had spent most of the day trying not to think about Damien…..That means I spent it actually thinking about him!!! Which was ridiculous, considering I hadn't actually seen him since Friday. Still, for some reason, my mind kept going back to the last time I had. He had been too quiet. Maybe he realized I wasn't worth his time but not that it was my business. It wasn't. Damien had his own life, his own problems, and probably a thousand things going on that had absolutely nothing to do with me. I had enough of my own problems. My last conversation with Mum had been bothering me more than I wanted to admit, even though she continued insisting everything was fine. So I decided that was where my attention needed to stay. By the time I left campus, I had already changed my mind three times about wha

​Chapter 17 Ariana's POV ​I knew I looked suspicious the moment I stepped through the apartment door. ​Not suspicious in the criminal sense. Just… guilty. ​My cheeks still felt unusually warm, my pulse was racing, and I had just spent the entire walk up the stairs trying to convince myself that the last ten minutes hadn't completely shattered my focus. ​Nothing happened. ​I repeated it like a mantra with every step I took Nothing happened. ​Damien had given me a drive home because I couldn't get a ride. He carried my groceries. We talked. He left. That was it. It was a completely normal act of courtesy from a guy who happened to be around. ​So why did I feel like I needed an alibi for my own face? Or my own crime ​I pushed the door open, trying to look as casual as human

CHAPTER 19 Damien’s POV I hadn't slept, but that was nothing new. What was new was the relentless, quiet echo of a name I had never heard until yesterday. Andrea Carter. It had followed me out of my father's study, into the quiet interior of my car, and eventually into the early hours of the morning when any normal person would have given up and gone to bed. I hate unanswered questions. In my line of work, an unanswered question was a structural flaw or a breach in security waiting to implode. They had a habit of settling into the back of my brain, sharpening until I found something solid enough to satisfy them. This one was far worse. Because my father had reacted to her name with a rare, naked edge of panic. My mother had known her. And somehow, three decades later, her face had surfaced in an old photograph tucked inside a sealed file my father had spent half his life keeping hidden from me. I sat behind the massive mahogany desk in my office at Kingston Tower, the early mo