Page 50 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

My sister’s face paled. My heart tripped, worried that we’d fucked up already. We were supposed to be here before Danso Sabir, the killer for the Ghanaian and Corsican crime syndicate. Fear suffocated me, but I was more scared for my son than myself. Or even for my sister. He was all that mattered to me.

I forced a smile on my face as I mentally prepared for the worst. Slowly, I turned to face my fears.

Except the worst wasn’t what I expected. Or rather, who I expected.

My heart constricted in my chest as I watched him. Byron Ashford was still the most handsome man I’d ever had the misfortune of meeting.

He watched me with that glimmering sapphire gaze, looking up at me from his table. The vision of him looking up at me with his head between my legs, his beautiful lips glistening with my arousal, had my body’s temperature instantly spiked.

He’d broken my heart. I bit my bottom lip, focusing on the sting of that pain rather than the one that almost broke me six years ago.

God, forget it. Forget the memory. All of it.

But I still remembered the way he’d kissed me. The way he’d devoured me. I’d felt his passion all the way to my toes. I couldn’t forget the way he’d cupped my cheeks with his strong hands and brought our faces close. The way he’d inhaled deeply, his eyes closing. As if he wanted to memorize me forever.

As if I was important to him.

Chapter21

Byron

Six goddamn years.

I spotted her the moment she entered the restaurant. A flash of red hair, shorter than when I’d last seen her, falling down to her shoulders. She pushed a strand of it behind her ear as it caught the sun’s rays and flickered with a golden hue.

It was impossible to see any golden colors and not think of her. Those gilded flashes in her eyes. Highlights in her hair. The image of her on all fours was ingrained into my memory.

My hand fisted, the burning in my palm throbbing with the need to wrap her hair around my fingers. Just like I did that night when she’d dropped down to her knees.

Six fucking years and I was still unable to move on from her. Six fucking years and she still held my heart. I left it right next to hers in that hospital when she begged me to let her go.

She looked just as beautiful as I remembered too. Graceful. Strong. Offering the hostess her polite and reserved smile, she uttered a few words, then turned to her friend holding a kid. Odette’s expression immediately softened. She murmured something and they both nodded in agreement, then headed this way.

She was still at least ten feet away, but I swore the scent of crisp apples already drifted through the air, intoxicating me. My fucking cock hardened. After all this time I still wanted her with the same intensity as that day. That wild night.

“Billie?” Winston called out behind me. “Billie Swan.”

My brows furrowed. Fuck, that was her sister. How did I miss it? I always noticed everything, but when it came to this woman, I might as well have been blind as fuck because I saw nothing but her.

Odette’s spine stiffened and she slowly turned around, her eyes landing on me. Those eyes! They got me every time. Big hazel bedroom eyes that were temptation even for a saint. And I was a sinner through and through.

“Winston Ashford,” Billie grumbled, her tone slightly disgusted. “Exactly the man I never wanted to see again.”

It turned out neither Swan sister wanted to see us, because I could have sworn Odette mouthed “shit” under her breath, but it was hard to confirm. The restaurant was too busy and the music drifting through the air was too loud.

“Hello, Odette,” I greeted the sister that mattered. At least to me. “Or should I call you Dr. Swan?”

My eyes dropped down her body. Fuck, she looked even better than I remembered. She was wearing tight blue jean shorts that hugged her hips and butt just right. Her long, bare legs had a beautiful bronzed tan. She must have been spending a lot of time out in the sun, which would make sense with what Alessio said about her work in Ghana.

She ran a hand through her hair, annoyance clear on her face.

“Dr. Swan,” she answered tightly, her tone clipped.

It didn’t escape me the way she fisted her hands, her knuckles white and her nails probably digging into her skin.

She wasn’t happy to see me. Not. At. All.

“Congratulations. But then, you never doubted your skills, did you?” She narrowed her eyes at me, anger flashing in them. I’d bet my fortune there were words burning her tongue right now. She wanted to spit them out and probably slap my face. Instead, her gaze darted behind me to my family and my brothers-in-law’s family. The Nikolaevs.