Page 1 of The Billionaire’s Betrayal (Billionaires of Paris #2)

EVA

TRISTAN: I have a file to finish. I don't know what time I'll be home. Don't wait up for me.

This was the second message I'd received from him this week, and my heart tightened as a quiet worry rose inside me. These delays, once rare, had become increasingly frequent since the arrival of his new assistant, Audrey Deprez.

Audrey.

A twenty-seven-year-old blonde with blue eyes, a goddess-like figure, and razor-sharp intelligence. Hired three months ago, she had made herself indispensable to Tristan in record time. Present at every meeting, omnipresent in his schedule. Always on the lookout, always too close, too smiley.

I had seen her in action. Her forced laughter, her lingering glances, her way of brushing against Tristan as if by accident...

And Tristan, blind or complacent, saw nothing.

After two unsuccessful hires, my partner now swore by her alone. He praised her efficiency and skills, dismissing my concerns with a wave of his hand whenever I suggested she was trying to seduce him.

Was he really so gullible or secretly flattered by her admiration?

Did he realize that his habits had radically changed since her arrival?

Before, he came home at six. Now, eight o'clock seemed to have become his new standard, when it wasn't even later.

At first, Tristan took the time to call, to apologize with that deep, reassuring voice that knew so well how to disarm me. Then, gradually, his calls became less frequent, replaced by simple text messages, increasingly cold and impersonal. Purely informative.

I trusted Tristan, but I wasn't naive. I knew that one can succumb to someone's charm without even realizing it. And Audrey had enough to turn any man's head.

I would worry less if Tristan took my doubts seriously.

The only way to resist temptation is to be aware of it and set boundaries from the start. But Tristan was too sure of himself. He believed, with an almost touching arrogance, that our love sheltered him from everything. He might be right, but I wasn't ready to take the risk.

I'd like to be able to insist more, but he might interpret my concerns as a lack of trust, and everything could backfire on me. No, I had to be careful. You don't catch flies with vinegar, and certainly not men.

I had tried to be understanding. I knew, better than anyone, how hard he worked. We were in the same company, after all.

He was the Chairman and CEO of Community Pilot, a multinational valued at over 32 billion euros; I was the managing director. I knew the workload, the responsibilities, the pressure. Yet I didn't agree with his way of increasingly putting work before our relationship.

A relationship is built day by day.

Each unexpected delay was a small crack in the foundations of our couple. A sign that our relationship was no longer his priority.

A relationship, if not maintained, empties of its substance. If we allow voids and silences to fill our life together, suffocation is guaranteed. Love doesn't die overnight. It slowly crumbles, through habits that settle in, priorities that change, silences that stretch.

So, with each laconic message Tristan sent me, it was an alarm bell ringing.

I had to act.

Wait, hope that everything would work itself out?

No way.

That wasn't me. I wasn't a woman who closed her eyes and prayed for things to go back to the way they were. I was going to fight, to win back Tristan's love and take back the place that was rightfully mine.

To strengthen our bond, I had decided to pull out all the stops.

I had prepared dinner with the greatest care: seared scallops, served with a vegetable gratin and topped with a lemon butter sauce, his favorite dish.

For dessert, a lemon meringue tart, a perfect balance of sweetness and acidity that he also loved.

Once the meal was prepared, I headed to my closet in search of the perfect weapon for my reconquest strategy. Two dresses presented themselves: one, a soft blue-gray silk chiffon with thin straps, elegantly hugging my figure; the other, a deep red, draped and slightly low-cut.

After a moment of reflection, I chose the red one and black stilettos, embellished with rhinestones.

Night had fallen when Tristan pushed open the door of our penthouse, overlooking the rooftops of Paris.

He looked magnificent in his tailored three-piece suit, cut to perfectly fit his athletic figure.

At thirty-three, Tristan wasn't just an accomplished and terribly attractive businessman, he was above all a wonderful partner.

I loved everything about him: his brown, slightly rebellious hair; his chiseled, energetic features; his eyes, black and deep as ink.

But also his creative intelligence, his cheerful personality, and his attentive care for those he loves.

His face lit up at the sight of me, and a radiant smile stretched across his features. And before I even realized his movement, he had already joined me and taken me in his arms, his bag abandoned at the entrance.

"What's the occasion?" he whispered, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as they met mine.

His voice, both husky and soft, vibrated with a tenderness that always made me shiver. I let my fingers slide along his tie, toying with the perfectly knotted fabric.

"Do I really need a special reason to seduce the man I love?" I replied playfully, letting that familiar blend of challenge and complicity between us shine through.

A flash of desire crossed his gaze.

"The man you love... I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you," he said, tucking a strand of my brown hair behind my ear, in a gesture both tender and possessive.

His hand brushed my cheek, tracing a path of shivers on my skin.

"I don't know... That's for him to tell me," I whispered mischievously, deliberately leaving room for doubt.

He moved closer, so close that I could feel his breath against my neck.

"There's not a single day that I don't thank my luck for meeting you," he breathed. His lips gently brushed my neck, triggering an electric shiver that ran through my whole body.

"And I'm going to prove it to you, honey."

The atmosphere between us transformed instantly.

The tenderness of the previous moment vanished, replaced by a burning, primitive desire that consumed us both.

In an almost feline movement, he pinned me against the living room wall, his mouth descending on mine with passionate urgency, his lips seeking mine.

His kiss deepened, awakening the most sensitive nervous zones of my body.

His trembling hands began exploring my body, caressing me, stroking me through the thin fabric of my dress.

It took him only a moment to remove my black lace thong, slide it down my legs, and toss it to the other end of the room.

And while he drove me crazy of desire with his mouth, he opened his pants and pulled out his erection swollen with desire.

And, without even undressing, he lifted me in his arms. My dress rode up around my waist as my legs wrapped around his hips.

His hard, tense sex positioned itself against my wet slit, trembling with impatience.

"I want you now," he told me in a husky voice. "Are you ready?"

"For you, always," I replied feverishly.

"I knew you were perfect," he teased, and I burst out laughing.

Then he slowly penetrated me with a long thrust of his hips.

My sweet sheath closed around him, greedy, and our moans mingled.

His mouth claimed mine again. We devoured each other, hungry for one another.

Seven years of living together, and our embraces were still as burning, as sensual.

I don't think I could ever tire of it. I arched voluptuously against him while his mouth descended along my neck, pushed aside the top of my dress to expose my chest to his view and seize my rosy nipples.

I gasped with pleasure as his tongue played with me.

"Do you like that?" he asked me, his hips moving lazily between my thighs, his mouth devouring my breasts. "Do you like it when I fuck you?"

"Yes... I love it when you're inside me. When you let me know, it's me you want. When you fuck me!"

He abandoned my chest and claimed my mouth again.

"Like this?" he asked, his hands grabbing my buttocks to penetrate me better and give more amplitude to his movements.

"Yes... No..." I replied incoherently, as he went in and out of me with deliberate slowness, torturing us both deliciously.

"No? Tell me... what you want," he demanded, his voice chopped by effort.

"Faster and harder..." I answered.

"Your wishes are my commands..."

And he released all the ardor he was holding back, penetrating me faster and deeper.

"Damn, it feels good!" he roared through his teeth.

"Yes! Don't stop, don't stop," I begged him in a stifled voice as he redoubled his efforts.

The orgasm struck us both with such violence that our bodies convulsed. Our cries of pleasure filled the penthouse. I felt his rod contract before expelling long jets of sperm inside my body. Then, as if his legs could no longer support him, he slowly slid us to the floor.

"I love you," he breathed while he remained anchored in my tender body.

"I love you," I whispered in response.

After that, Tristan took me to our bedroom, where he took his time making love to me again. By the time we emerged, dinner had gone cold. Though reheated, the scallops, vegetable gratin, and lemon tart still held a delicious flavor that night.

The next morning, lying in Tristan's arms, I savored the present moment as he gently caressed my back. We were at ease, and I didn't want to burst our bubble of happiness, but it was now or never.

"I'm struggling with the fact that you're coming home later and later," I finally admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His hand stilled on my back, a sign he was listening carefully.

"Work keeps taking up more and more of your time," I said, pausing. "And honestly, sometimes it feels like I'm not your priority anymore."

His arm tightened around me in an instinctive, protective gesture, and then he sighed softly.

"It's temporary," he explained in a calm voice. "You know the backlog I've built up with the two failed recruitments. I'm using Audrey's arrival to catch up and update my files. Once this phase is over, I'll be able to breathe again and return to a normal rhythm."

I had no doubt about his sincerity, and I understood his need to put everything in order, but I also knew how a "temporary" situation could quickly turn into a habit, and before we knew it, become the norm. For now, though, I just needed to be patient and stay vigilant.

"I understand," I replied, uncertain. "But... do you promise me it’s not just an excuse to spend more time at the office with Audrey?"

This time, Tristan burst into genuine, spontaneous laughter, and something in me wavered. His reaction was so natural, so free of guilt, it instantly eased some of my fears.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" he teased, grinning as he held me close."I love it. It means you still care... and that's hot."

He placed a kiss on my temple, his lips grazing my skin with the softest touch, a caress of pure intimacy.

"It's only you," he murmured. "I only see you, Eva."

I believed him. I wanted to believe him. But love isn't a promise, it's a battlefield. And I was about to step into the fire.