Isabella gives everything to her husband, only to be dumped and humiliated. She walks away and returns to her powerful birth family—revealed as a trillion-dollar heiress. Now those who mistreated her want forgiveness, and a bold, dangerous billionaire wants her attention. This time, Isabella won’t be ignored again.
I found myself arching a brow at the new information, clicking my tongue as the wheels in my head turned. I knew what this mean, and it helped make up my mind. So, plastering a smile on my face, I lifted my gaze and fixed it on the two me waiting for my response. “It…
He’s the life of the party, and despite being the eldest of the aristocratic family, you’d still find him at clubs and parties. Unmarried at thirty-three, it’s obvious he enjoys spending his nights with countless women rather than settling with one. That to say doesn’t mean he’s entirely irresponsible. No, it’s the opposite. He’s a…
That name, the same name only he and his family addresses me as rolling off his tongue, made fury burn through my veins like molten lava. I hate the name; I grew a hate towards it thanks to them because all it brings are bad memories. The moment it rolled off his tongue, I snapped…
Holding my hand in his, his thumb caressed the skin of my fingers, staring at our hands together as he sighed, in a relieved way. Then, he lifted his sultry eyes to meet mine, making me bite the inside of my cheeks. It’s weird how many times I’ve fell for that look, the innocent look…
Checking the time on my phone while he carried on with his sulk, I realized I had wasted about ten minutes with him-precious time of mine on someone so insignificant. I sighed, dropped the phone then held my hand up to stop him as I met his gaze again. “You seem to have so much…
I arched a brow slightly at the name he addressed me with, silently asking when we became close enough for him to address me with my first name. I’m particularly picky on who calls out like that, and unfortunately for him, he doesn’t happen to be part of the people I’m welcoming on the idea.…
Placing the phone aside, Micheal Buble’s song, Feeling Good blared through the speakers, filling the otherwise quiet space of the restroom. Flicking my eyes close, I swayed my fingers slightly to the beat of the song, and when I heard James trying to speak again, I held up my hand to stop him, still waiting…
Grimacing, he pushed himself to a sitting position with a lot of difficulty. Whiny bitch. I didn’t even beat him on the body or anything, just his face. That annoys me every second I look at it, I can’t help it. After so many pathetic attempts, he had settled down, in the Indian position, facing…
With that said, I turned around, unlocked the rest room and stepped out, rolling the neck tie off my hand, so I could join the rest of the reception as if nothing had happened because, after all, I didn’t show this side of me to the world. Only to those that mess with my people.…
But, I’m not upset about it. If anything, I should thank him because he confirmed her presence to me-I didn’t even know she was going but he looked it up, and found out she’s friends with the bride so she even RSVP-ed her invite. Don’t ask how he knows that, just know he’s a capable…