Page 11 of The Billionaire's Betrayal
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.
