Page 122 of Billionaire Romance

11

Sinclair

A week of penthouse life, and I’m already realizing that I could get used to this. Between New York offering delivery of just about any food we can possibly imagine, at any hour, day or night, and Ankor’s building offering anything else we could possibly need—from the rooftop pool where I’ve been practicing swimming laps every morning (no deep end on this one either, so I don’t even need to work myself up to it), to the rain shower and full jacuzzi tub a level down where I rinse off (and more often than not immediately get dirty again, when Ankor’s around), all the way to the sumptuously soft bed we sink into together every night. There’s nothing more I could possibly need or ask for.

Except for maybe some fresh air, and the ability to walk outside on the street without feeling like I need to check over my shoulder every step of the way.

But with time, I hope that will fade too. Ankor’s been right here with me, reassuring me that my ex will never find this place, or come this far to hunt me. And even if he does, Ankor has enough security personnel to take him out without even needing to lift a finger himself. Not that Ankor wouldn’t relish the chance to lay into my ex himself. He tries to hide it, but I can tell by the way his fists clench and his jaw tightens anytime I seem worried or frightened. He feels protective of me.

That, too, is starting to help push my fears away. Just like Ankor helped me conquer my fear of the deep end, once upon a time.

So all in all, New York has been good to me so far. Even if this morning, after a week of relaxing, Ankor has to go into his offices for a while. He promises me he’ll be back as soon as he can, and that he’ll bring something called khao soi with him. I don’t have any idea what it is, but he says if I like Thai food (which I do) and curry (which I definitely do), then I’ll love this.

Still, I can’t help pulling him back into bed more than once. And he doesn’t seem to mind being a little late. He pins me down against the mattress and kisses me until my head is swimming, before he finally rolls off the bed and toward the door.

“Tease,” I call after him.

“Trust me, Sinclair.” He pauses in the entryway to turn around, eyes locked on mine and filled with heat. “Leaving you right now is torturing me far more than you’ll ever know.”

My belly tightens, the way it always does when he talks like that. My heart skips a beat as he winks, wearing the jaunty grin I can’t help but love. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you later. Oh.” He pauses before he’s about to leave, and smirks. “And I’m stopping at a toy shop on the way home.” His eyes glitter with amusement when I blush, realizing he doesn’t mean kids’ toys. “Let me know if there’s anything in particular you’d like to try.”

I bite my lower lip. “Hmm… I might have a few ideas.” After all, years of remaining a virgin while my ex forced me to wait for him means I had to get pretty familiar with some personal pleasure items. But I’ve never used toys with a partner before. And some of the ones, well… they’re not really single user only.

“That’s my good girl.” Ankor winks and blows me one last kiss before he heads off.

I watch him go, heart in my throat, before I roll out of bed and stretch, then climb up to the roof for my morning swim. The laps help to distract me, at least for a little while. Before long, though, I’ve finished, then showered and toweled off, and then I’m lounging in the huge, empty living room, the fireplace going beside me, all too aware of every single sound in the house. The distant ping and whir of the elevator, several floors below, is enough to make me startle and yelp.

I need to do something. Something to distract myself.

Remembering Ankor’s mention of toys, I grab the laptop he gave me. It’s one of his old ones, of which he apparently has an entire stash. He’s one of those people who always has the latest version of every gadget. I start it up and pull up YouTube. I figure I can search for some ideas, and text them to Ankor.

In my head, I’m already composing naughty, flirty text messages, when I pause on the homepage, staring at the most recent hit. He must not have cleared the old browser history on this computer, because it knew to load up any websites related to him on YouTube. And the first one that catches my eye is titled “Marco Helmtree: Billionaire Bastard.”

The poster is someone named LilyLoves, who has millions upon millions of followers.

I shouldn’t. But curiosity gets the better of me. After all, this is up on the internet for anybody to find. I’m sure it’s all BS, but I can’t help clicking anyway.

Immediately, a pretty young woman with dark hair fills the screen. She’s sitting at the edge of an infinity pool overlooking a beach, which you’d think would make her happy. But she’s scowling at the screen, like whoever is filming this just kicked a puppy in front of her.

“Lovers, I have some tragic news for you today,” the girl—Lily, I guess? —starts out, still scowling. “As some of you long-time followers probably know, I am—or should I say was—about to celebrate my one year anniversary with my boyfriend, Marco Helmtree. Until this bitch showed up.”

There’s a cutaway to a photo I recognize all too well.

Oh no. It can’t be.

It’s the photo of Ankor and me at the bonfire. The one that blew his cover and forced us both out of hiding from our self-imposed exiles.

“‘Who the hell is that?’ you ask? Well, I’d like to know that too. Turns out my boyfriend’s new side piece is a tough girl to find. No social media presence, which, can I just say, I do not trust anybody who doesn’t at least have an Instagram?”

My stomach churns.

“All I’ve managed to get so far is her name, and only half of it at that. But—” And here, Lily stared directly into the camera, head-on. “Sinclair Whoever You Are. If you’re watching this? I want you to know something. Marco was mine before he ever laid eyes or hands on you. And he’ll be mine again long after he’s tossed you away like all his other cheap flings. As for you, Marco? Come back to where you belong, before I run out of second chances to give you.”

The video has thousands upon thousands of likes. And a similar number of comments. People all writing to say how beautiful Lily is—and she is, that’s true—or how sorry they are she’s going through this.

And then worse comments. Comments from people talking about me. Calling me a homewrecker, an ugly skank, a whore. Worse.

---