Page 6 of The Billionaire’s Betrayal (Billionaires of Paris #2)

EVA

Tristan pulled on a dress shirt over his pants, and I watched with regret as his tantalizing body disappeared beneath the silky fabric. Our eyes met in the mirror; his smirk openly taunted me, fully aware of my frustration. Our passionate embrace in the shower hadn’t been enough for me.

Slightly sulking, I stepped closer to him, helping him button his shirt and adjust his cufflinks, savoring the intoxicating scent of his cologne. His arm wrapped securely around my waist, and his lips captured mine in a sensual kiss.

"Thank you, honey," he murmured against my skin. "I promise I’ll take care of you the way you deserve as soon as we get back."

His deep, husky voice sent waves of desire through my body. It took all my willpower to pull away and get dressed for lunch at his parents' house.

"You better," I replied with a pointed look.

He pressed a more chaste kiss to my lips before suggesting, "How about a night out? It's been ages since we had a proper date, just the two of us."

"That sounds perfect," I said, genuinely pleased.

*

The beginning of our relationship had been complicated. Despite our undeniable attraction and love, we clashed on many things. Coming from a privileged background, Tristan had an elitist view of the world. To him, success was simply a matter of effort.

"If you want it badly enough, you can achieve it," he used to say.

As a scholarship student, I knew reality was far less simple when you weren’t born in the right district, with access to the best education and invested teachers from an early age.

Where I came from, kids who wanted to study were labeled "teacher’s pets," and some of our teachers ended up in prison for drug use or DUI.

The idea of equal opportunity was a beautiful lie.

It took Tristan and me a long time to learn how to listen and communicate without clashing.

Unfortunately, my relationship with the "queen mother," Tristan’s mother, hadn’t followed the same path. That’s why I climbed into the car next to Tristan with a certain apprehension, as Lorenzo, our driver for the weekend, took us to the de La Tour estate for lunch.

Judith de La Tour barely hid her disdain for me, believing I lacked proper upbringing and came from a background unworthy of theirs. To her, I was the woman stealing her beloved son’s love, as if Tristan’s affection were a limited resource to be fought over.

Tristan had mixed feelings about these gatherings as well.

He loathed the biting exchanges between his parents, a constant theater of tension we were unwillingly cast in at every family meal.

Still, we never declined their invitations.

And there was one reason for that: Lily.

Liliane, her full name. A late surprise in the family, Tristan's little sister had just turned fifteen.

Like Tristan, I adored her, and our visits to the de La Tour home were always softened by her presence.

The de La Tour estate was in Sceaux, less than an hour from Paris.

Surrounded by a breathtaking park and classical French gardens, the main residence reflected the elegance of an 18th-century mansion.

Lorenzo parked the Aston Martin at the front steps.

Tristan walked around the car and opened my door.

I took the hand he offered, my stomach already twisting with anxiety.

The butler led us into the grand hall, where Tristan's mother greeted us with a beaming smile.

"Tristan! What a pleasure to see you!"

"Hello, Mom, it’s good to see you too."

Madame de La Tour kissed her son warmly before turning to me. Her smile faltered ever so slightly.

"Hello, Eva," she said coolly.

Her gaze drifted over my wool dress, lingering just a fraction of a second too long.

"That’s... an interesting outfit," she murmured.

Tristan, busy greeting his father, missed the subtle jab. I kept my smile in place, refusing to take the bait.

"Eva! Tristan!" A young girl burst in from the kitchen. "I’m so happy to see you!" she squealed, throwing herself into Tristan’s arms.

He lifted her in the air, spinning her around before setting her down to get a better look at her.

"Hey, Rebel, am I dreaming, or have you grown again?"

"Stop calling me that, I’m too old for it!" she protested.

"You’ll always be my little rebel, even when you’re sixty," Tristan replied, kissing her forehead before letting her go.

"Hi, Eva," Lily said, hugging me tightly.

My heart melted.

"Hi, Lily, it’s so good to see you too."

"Liliane, show some restraint," her mother scolded, lips pinched, clearly displeased with her daughter’s affection toward me.

"Let her breathe. Can’t you see you’re suffocating her?" Henri de La Tour interjected. "Hello, Eva," he added kindly, ignoring his wife’s outraged expression.

"Hello, Mr. de La Tour. How are you?"

"Doing well, doing well," he said jovially. "Come, the aperitif is ready. We were just waiting for you to begin."

"As if you actually waited," his wife muttered scornfully. "You already reek of alcohol."

"It’s the only thing that makes your company bearable," he shot back venomously.

"Enough, both of you!" Tristan snapped, exasperated. "How can you talk like this in front of Lily?"

"Don’t waste your breath, Tristan," his sister sighed. "I gave up hoping for better a long time ago. Come on," she added brightly, though the enthusiasm was forced, "I helped the chef prepare the hors d'oeuvres. You have to try them!"

Lunch was tense. Judith de La Tour was particularly sharp today. Between her barbs at her husband, she also threw a few pointed remarks my way. That was new. Until now, she had refrained from openly criticizing me in front of others. Apparently, that restraint was gone.

Tristan tried to keep the peace, changing the subject or pretending not to hear to avoid escalating the situation.

But I was disappointed. I knew he loved his mother and avoided conflict with her because she wasn’t well, but I still felt betrayed.

If the roles were reversed, I would never allow a family member to disrespect him.

And the longer the meal dragged on, the more my patience wore thin.

"It’s remarkable how Tristan's success has opened doors," Judith remarked, looking at me over the rim of her glass. "Some people know how to seize opportunities."

That was the last straw. Twelve years of patience shattered.

"Opportunism isn't really my strength, Mrs. de La Tour. I prefer to build rather than wallow in bitterness."

I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth.

This was why I avoided speaking in anger. I had a gift for reading people, for spotting their vulnerabilities, and exploiting them was effortless.

A heavy silence fell over the table. Judith's expression turned ghostly, and guilt twisted in my chest.

"I apologize," I added quickly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"Of course, you did," she replied icily, though her pride was clearly shaken.

The silence stretched until Lily finally spoke.

"Do you think, Eva, that I could intern with you at Community Pilot?"

My heart melted for this young girl. I would be forever grateful to her for dissipating that terrible moment.

"It would be my pleasure," I replied.

I welcomed the end of the meal with relief. At Madame de La Tour’s suggestion, we went for a walk in the rose garden. Henri declined the offer, just as his wife had hoped.

I followed along, though I wished I were anywhere else. Tristan walked ahead with his mother, the two of them speaking in hushed tones, while I strolled beside an unusually pensive Lily.

"Don’t worry about my mother," Lily said. "You did nothing but tell the truth."

"Maybe, but there’s no pride in deliberately hurting someone. I regret it sincerely."

Lily looked at me gently. "You’re a good person, Eva. Just because you lose your temper sometimes doesn’t erase who you are the rest of the time."

I smiled at her, grateful for her efforts to pull me from my guilt. Tristan had remained eerily silent after my outburst, and I knew I would have to apologize to him, too. I understood how deeply he cared for his mother, despite what she had become.

"I hope I never end up in a relationship as toxic as my parents'," Lily added, pulling me from my thoughts. "I’d rather be single than live with that constant hostility."

"I understand," I answered carefully, unwilling to add fuel to the fire. One mistake in a day was more than enough.

"How can two people hate each other that much after so many years of loving each other? I just don't get it."

I was wondering the same thing. According to Tristan, his parents had loved each other in their youth, but time, disappointment, and betrayal had done their damage. Now, they could barely be in the same room without tearing each other apart.

"She thinks you and Tristan will end up the same way. But she's wrong. What you have with him is nothing like that."

"What makes you so sure?" I asked, curious.

"You talk to each other. And more importantly, you respect each other."

I looked at Lily more closely. Her maturity never failed to surprise me. But her words unsettled me.

Were Tristan and I still really communicating? If I was being honest with myself, the answer was no.

Lately, he'd been more tense, more irritable, more distant.

Our physical intimacy remained intact, and we still shared moments of deep connection, but they were now tinged with heavy silences, with unspoken words that kept accumulating.

Every time I tried to broach the subject, he quickly deflected: fatigue, work stress, need to sleep.

.. A diffuse unease was growing within me, like a shadow slowly spreading over our relationship.

Was he growing tired of us? Silently questioning our future?

"I'm sorry about the way my mom treats you," Lily continued.

"You've been with Tristan for years, and she still acts like you don't belong.

She's still hoping he'll marry someone from our world, as if that made her own marriage any happier.

As if you hadn't already proven your worth by becoming the CEO of a multinational company.

One day, if I'm lucky enough to have kids, I'll welcome whoever makes them happy.

I won't care about their gender, their bank account, or where they come from. "