Page 162 of The Billionaire's Secret

Hell, he's fooled all of them; but I can see through him.

I pat her back, then straighten my shoulders. "Guess I'd better get this over with, huh?"

40

Saint

She had to do it, huh? She had to take the goddamn USB. I'd checked the drawer after she'd fallen asleep, when I’d gone to grab her purse, and it was gone. Then because, apparently, I have a hidden masochistic side, I had checked her purse...and spotted the fucking thing.Fuck.So this is how it feels to have your life go tits up.

I toss back the whiskey, then place the empty glass back on the bar counter. The bartender tops it off. I lift the glass to my lips, take a healthy sip.

"Living the dream, I see?" Weston slaps me on the back.

I chug down the rest of the amber liquid, slap the glass back on the bar.

"Easy, ol' chap." Weston leans his hip against the bar, watches as I reach across and grab the bottle from the bartender. I tilt the bottle of Macallan’s Single Malt to my mouth, swig from it.

"As classy as your shoes," he clicks his tongue.

"What’s fucking wrong with my shoes?"

"A bit worn out for the rest of your suit… How much did that set you back by? £10,000?"

"£20,000," I toss back more of the whiskey. It burns a path down my gullet, and sets off a burn in my stomach, "but who’s counting?"

"Trouble in paradise, I take it?"

"Fuck off," I growl.

"It’s only your goddamn wedding we’re here to celebrate," he smirks.

"Fake wedding, douchebag."

"This is exactly how Sinner started out... Now look at him," he jerks his chin.

I follow his gaze to where the wanker stands in a corner, arms around Summer. The two are engaged in intense eye-fucking… The kind I indulged in with Gigi. No, that was real fucking…Fuckthat… It was some intense shit. The harder I took her, the more she gave me. The more I pushed her, the deeper her resistance grew. Hell, I’d intended to punish her…maybe myself, when I’d taken her against the wall. Couldn’t stop myself from tearing the dress off of her—the beautiful dress I’d imagined her in when I’d bought it.

I should have blown off this entire fucking party and simply stayed in my suite with her. Hell, she deserves more than this impersonal hotel space. She deserves a home… A real one, with furniture and curtains that she’s picked out, and all that shit that women seem to thrive on. Not that Gigi is like other females. She is fucking stronger than she seems. A sultry seductress whose call I can’t resist. One glance at her and I lose myself. She only has to be in my vicinity for my dick to take notice…and other parts of me…especially that offending feeling in my chest that has assailed me since the first time I’d kissed her, "Fuck."

I raise the bottle to my lips and glug down some more of the liquid.

"That’s the economy of a third world country you’re drinking down, by the way."

I wipe the back of my hand over my lips, "I am not going to apologize for being born into wealth." I slap the bottle back on the corner, "Not that it helped when we were kidnapped."

"Money’s overrated," he rubs the back of his neck.

"But it’s a necessary evil," I counter.

"Sometimes I do wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed with Doctors without Borders… Would I have been less of a douche then?"

"No," I shake my head.

"Touché." He frowns, "And your glowering Romeo mood is catching."

"Not glowering," I growl, "not a Romeo." The hair at the nape of my neck rises; electricity flickers across my nerves. She’s here.

"Here comes your Juliet," Weston confirms.