Page 93 of Pucking Billionaire

Hopping into the limo waiting for me, I inform the driver of the change in destination. As we battle yet another bout of traffic, I play out all sorts of conversations in my head. It’s not until we’re at her gates that I begin to have second thoughts about what I’m doing right now.

After all, her biggest gripe with me was that I was stalking her—and here I go again.

Then again, we have to talk and resolve this.

I can’t just let her go.

Wait a second.

Speaking of stalking, there’s a guy sitting on the ground just outside the view of Sophia’s intercom camera. Seeing him brings to mind the expression “cute as a button,” or put another way, he makes me feel disgust and rage.

Oh, and there’s something furtive about his position. Something shifty.

Teeth clenching, I exit the car.

The guy spots me, and some sort of recognition seems to spark in his weaselly eyes.

“Who are you?” I demand. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”

I don’t care if this isn’t my home that he’s loitering next to. It’s Sophia’s, so the fucker had better impress me with his answer.

“You’re the hockey player.” The guy jumps to his feet and extends his hand toward me. “I’m Rupert.”

I look at the proffered appendage as I would at a pile of blobfish vomit. “I will only ask one more time. What are you doing here?”

He backs up. “I’m here to visit Sophia.”

“Why?” If glares could castrate, mine would have him singing contralto.

He flaps his pale lashes, all innocent-like. “She didn’t mention me?”

“Why would she?”

Who the fuck is he? She never mentioned a brother, and she said she’s never had a serious relationship.

The dude juts out his chest, which makes him look like a pufferfish. “I’m the love of Sophia’s life.”

I freeze, and for the second time today, I wonder if I’m living a nightmare. Should I pinch myself? No. The sting from my knuckles when they smash into this asshole should suffice.

“You don’t believe me?” He pulls out his phone and taps at it. “Here. This is our engagement party.”

Feeling like it’s he who’s punched me, I can’t help but check out the image on his screen.

Fuck. There they are, smiling, standing way too close together, and fucking fuck! There’s a ring with a microscopic cubic zirconia on Sophia’s finger.

Not only was she in a serious relationship, but it was with this shit stain, and… they were engaged.

“There are more pics.” He swipes at the screen. “For example?—”

I snatch his phone and crush it with my fist until the screen cracks. “I’ll give you one second to run.” I punctuate my words by smashing the phone into the ground.

He stares at it in disbelief, then looks up at me. “What the fuck? That phone was?—”

With a satisfying thud, my right fist smashes into what passes for his jaw.

He flies up at least an inch off the ground, then crashes into a heap on the grass.

Shit.

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