Page 15 of Tempting the Billionaire (Billionaire Brothers #5)

Ezra

I grip the steering wheel as if somehow strangling it hard enough will relieve the torrent of emotions welling up inside of me. The GPS on my phone gives me directions, and I follow them.

I keep having flashes of this past weekend in my mind.

Emma and I holding hands, talking, having sex—the feelings that had emerged, the clarity I’d felt.

That Emma was more to me than just a fling, that Emma was someone I could have something real with.

I’d already made plans, gone over things in my head, fantasized about where it all could have gone.

And then this .

What was wrong with me? I should’ve known better than to let myself fall like this.

I slam my hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck!” I yell, but it doesn’t quell the hurt as much as I’d wanted it to. It still sits there, heavy in the pit of my stomach, like it might sit there forever.

I pull up in front of Justin Stoll’s apartment complex, slamming the car into park and storming up the front steps.

Because regardless of how betrayed I feel by Emma right now, the burning devastation coursing through my veins, I can’t stop thinking about that gnarly purple bruise on her cheekbone.

How it had spread up along her temple, over her eyebrow.

My hands clench into fists thinking about how that had come to happen.

Had he hit her? Thrown her against something?

I reach Justin’s apartment, and I bang on the door. When he doesn’t immediately answer, I bang again. And again and again until he opens it, a confused and irritated look on his face.

“What do you—”

I push past him, into the apartment, slamming the door behind me. He stumbles backward. He’s a scrawny kid, shorter than me too. He stares up at me for a moment, and then I see what looks to be recognition dawning on his features. He knows who I am .

Good. He’d better.

He holds up his hands, obviously taking in my anger. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here, but—”

“You hit her?” I growl, my jaw tight, my fists clenched.

I see what looks to be fear flash through his eyes, but he quickly hides it. He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t hit anyone.”

“Then what’d you do?” I ask, stalking toward him. “Throw her into something?”

He backs up, shaking his head.

“She didn’t get that bruise in her sleep,” I snap as his back hits the wall behind him.

He holds up his hands. “It was an accident, man, it was nothing.”

I reach out and grip the collar of his shirt, yanking him toward me. “You pathetic fuck,” I spit.

He pushes against my chest, but I slam his back against the wall. His eyes widen in fear, and he holds up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It was an accident, I swear.”

He shove him away from me, afraid I might lost control and punch him in the face if I don’t cool down. He stumbles back .

“Stay away from her,” I demand. “And don’t even think about posting those disgusting videos you have of her, either.”

Justin straightens, raising in eyebrow in surprise. “Oh, so you know about all that, huh?”

I grit my teeth.

“I guess she told you everything.”

I don’t respond.

He shakes his head, standing straighter, trying to regain what’s left of his dignity. “That deal is between me and Emma.”

I cock my head, my glare deepening. He can’t be serious right now.

“She does what I ask of her, and I hold up my end of the bargain—not releasing the video.”

My fists clench at my sides. He better start saying something else, or I might end up clobbering him to the floor right here in his living room.

“Although I hear there might already be something scandalous that the press could hear about?” he purrs.

I frown, staring him down. But the longer I stare at him, the surer I become. He knows. He fucking knows about Diane and the cheating. Probably through Emma. Although based on that bruise on the side of her face, I don’t blame her for spilling what she knew. This guy is a fucking psychopath.

Justin shrugs. “All I want is the Bishop name sullied. I want you to pay at least something for what you did to my family’s business.”

“I don’t even know what business your family had,” I say in exasperation.

“Well, it went under because of Bishop Jewelers!” Justin shoots back.

I roll my eyes. It doesn’t matter. Reasoning with him isn’t going to do anything.

Justin crosses his arms. “I don’t know, maybe a scandal about you and your wife splitting is enough for me to not ruin poor Emma’s honor.”

I stare at him for a long moment. Finally, I break the silence.

“There will be a story about my divorce within the week. You don’t leak the video, now or ever.

Delete it. And …” I cross the room, moving to stand within a foot of him, towering over his much shorter frame.

“You ever so much as lay eyes on Emma again, I will personally hunt you down and beat you into the floor. You understand?”

Justin nods, trying to keep up a sly facade—but I can see the fear in his eyes.

“Good.” I back up, throwing him one last dirty look before turning and exiting the apartment, slamming the door on my way out .

I sit in my car in the dark for what feels like hours, a million thoughts running through my mind. Diane, her new lover, Justin, Bishop Jewelers, Emma, everything. A twinge of guilt runs through me, thinking about what I’m about to do.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize that, in all honesty, Diane had it coming.

There was no way we’d be able to keep the story of her cheating quiet forever.

I hoped we could get away with it, but I know now that that was na?ve.

And why do I keep feeling the need to protect her?

She broke my heart. She left me. And cruelly, too.

No. I don’t wish her the worst, but I also can’t protect her from the consequences of her own actions. And it’s time I start acting in my own interests. I’ll make sure she gets her fair share in the divorce, but I’m not going to lie about why that divorce came about.

Besides, doing this will save Emma from the humiliation and possible ruin of having intimate videos of her leaked online. As much as I want to hate her for what she’s done, I can’t ignore the fact that she was desperate, forced into a corner.

I shake my head, pulling up my phone.

It’s well past working hours, but I pay my lawyer enough that he’ll answer my calls no matter the hour. I click his contact and wait for him to answer.