Page 131 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

I gave him an assuring smile. “I won’t. After all, my ride’s right here.”

I weaved my way through the crowd, pausing as strangers pulled me into conversation like we’d known each other forever, until I finally found my way inside the White House. I walked upstairs, past security, and toward the bathrooms on the second floor.

I pushed the door open, and my steps faltered. I almost turned straight back around, because Nicki—the ex—stood at the sink washing her hands. Her gaze flicked to me, full of hatred and something else. Straightening my back, I headed to the furthest sink away from her, and washed my hands.

We stood side by side there. She applied lipstick, while I waited for her to leave. This was supposed to be my escape and breather time, not fucking ex-fiancée drama.

Once done with her lipstick, she brushed so much powder on her cheeks, I feared for her lungs. It created such a large cloud of white smoke around her, that even I had to clear my throat.

“He’ll realize you’re a mistake.”

So much for a little zen time in the bathroom. I sighed, never stopping my movements. “And eventually, you’ll realize it’s time to move on from Byron.”

She was unfazed. “He and I are the same. Same background. Same wealth. Same friends.”

God, she was actually going to go there. I turned off the water and reached for the stack of luxurious, warm, one-time-use towels. Grabbing one, I dried my hands with painstaking detail.

“Maybe that’s the reason he decided to marry me instead of you.”

I’d rather die than tell her this thing between Byron and I had started out as a marriage of convenience, or whatever the fuck he’d called it. Let her believe it was a love fest. He was head over heels in love with me, and I was head over heels in love with him. Our affection had been there from the very first moment. It would not fade with time. I wouldn’t let it. This time, I’d fight tooth and nail if anyone tried to tear us apart.

“Or maybe you trapped him.”

I felt an odd pang in my chest. Why? I had no fucking idea.

I raised a brow. “And how would I have trapped him?”

“Well, he’s a man. And you’re probably good on your knees.”

Jesus, were we really having this conversation in the White House bathroom? I was either too tired, or I simply didn’t care about this woman whatsoever. Six years ago, this would have upset me. But today, my heart didn’t even blip. Maybe it was true what they said; as you got older, you grew into your skin and who you were as a person. On second thought… maybe it was only true for most people. This woman was as insecure as they came.

“As a matter of fact, Iamgood on my knees,” I stated calmly as I made my way to the door. My hand on the doorknob, I glanced over my shoulder, assessing her. “But my husband is even better.”

I left the bathroom, but I barely made five steps down the corridor when someone shoved me. Instinctively, I reached out and my palm pressed against the green wall for balance. Thank God, or I would have fallen onto my face.

“You ruined us.”Are you fucking kidding me?I turned around slowly, and wondered if beating a woman in the White House would get me arrested.

Nicki’s eyes locked on my face. “You’re a fucking frog.” I raised my eyebrow. She really went there—resorting to some ridiculous insult. Gosh, she must be getting desperate.

“And you are pathetic, pining after a man who clearly doesn’t want you.”

She raised her hand, and before I could even move, thick fingers wrapped around her wrist, twisting it behind her back.

“You weren’t just trying to hit my wife, were you, Nicki?” Byron’s tone was smooth, but his expression was as cold as ice.

“N-no.”

“I didn’t think so.” My husband’s lips twisted into a smile. “And what did I hear about a frog?”

Nicki’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed, likely from embarrassment. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t insult my intelligence with your fucking lies,” he snapped, his voice like a whip. Even I stiffened at the tone of it. “You will leave this party. Right the fuck now. If I see you anywhere near my wife, my son, or any of my family—or hers—I’ll make you regret ever looking their way.” My heart glowed like Fourth of July fireworks. He’d included Billie. “And I don’t mean your inheritance, because you forfeited that tonight. This is your first and final warning.”

I swallowed thickly. I focused on the material of his suit. The cobalt-blue, three-piece suit. Stuart Hughes Diamond Edition. It fit him perfectly, and according to my sister, it cost six figures. I stared at it, wondering what made it so expensive, working through various stupid scenarios in my brain to keep myself distracted from his wrath.

For Pete’s sake. It wasn’t even aimed at me.

“Leave us,” he barked, and she scurried away.