Page 62 of Falling for Mr. Billionaire

“I know,” I murmur. “But if there’s even the tiniest chance he’ll listen…” I turn to her, my voice fierce through the tears. “I want to fight for him.”

Ness pulls back onto the road, the city skyline growing larger ahead of us. “You’re not fighting alone, babe,” she says. “You’ve got me. Always.”

I close my eyes again, breathing deeply. For the first time since Carter walked out, a tiny ember of hope sparks inside my chest.

It’s not over yet. It can’t be. Not if I still have breath left in my body to fight for him.

And I will. I’ll fight. For the man who once looked at me like I hung the stars. For the man I stupidly fell in love with. For the man I can’t lose without losing myself.

CHAPTER 16

Carter

One Month Later

I’ve been in boardroom hell for thirty-two days.

Press briefings, lawyer meetings, reputation management consultants with perfect smiles and bullshit strategies. My company’s under siege—and not from a hostile takeover this time. From the truth.

The story hit like a grenade. The firm Ivy works for published a brutal exposé about Volcor Holdings and the eviction schemes tied to V Corp. I recognized the documents. Recognized the voice in the quotes. But what gutted me wasn’t the lawsuits. It was the silence between us.

She’s been texting. Calling. Messaging me on every app that isn’t blocked by legal.

I haven’t responded.

Not because I don’t care. God, I care more than I should. But because I don’t know what the hell to say her. I told her things I’ve never told anyone. I kissed her like she was mine. And she still went behind my back.

I thought she got to know me. Really know me. The way I memorized her—the way she smiled when she was nervous, tugged the hem of her shirt when she was hiding something, tucked her hair behind her ear when I made her blush. The way she snorted when she found something too funny to hold in, the way her voice cracked when she cared too much but didn’t want to show it.

I saw it all. I loved all of it. I thought she saw me, too.

Not the company or the bank account. Just the man. The broken pieces I never let anyone else see. I thought it meant something to her. I thought I meant something. But maybe that was my mistake.

There is one thing that I do know. Ivy Monroe broke my fucking heart.

Her name flashes across my screen for the fourth time today. Thank God Liam is here, or I may have answered it.

“If you answer now, you’ll say something you regret.”

Maybe he’s right. But ignoring her hasn’t made it easier. It’s made it worse. Every time I see her name on my screen, my chest cracks a little wider.

I tried to delete her number once but I don’t know why I even bothered trying.

That woman has penetrated every part of my fucking being, and I hate it. She wasn’t just some fling. Ivy Monroe got under my skin, burrowed into the part of me I forgot even existed—and now I don’t know how to function without her. But I don’t know how to forgive her, either.

So I do what I’ve always done. I bury myself in damage control.

I lose myself in meetings, lawsuits, endless goddamn conference calls that don’t mean a thing. And when that doesn’t work—when I catch myself staring at my phone like a fucking idiot—I drown it in whiskey and stubborn pride.

“You know what you need, big bro? Some titties,” Liam says, sliding into the chair across from me like he’s solved world hunger. “Big ones,” he adds, grinning. “The kind that’ll knock the sad right out of you.”

I bark out a humorless laugh and shake my head. “Not interested.”

“Come on, man,” he insists. “You’re sitting here acting like some tragic widower, and the girl’s still breathing. Let’s go out. Meet some people. Drink something that doesn’t taste like regret.”

“I said no.”

“And I’m saying yes. Let’s go. You need it.”

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