BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Ryan’s POV

With curiosity eating at me, I go through each day with pain in my heart. I don’t want to believe that the single word that Valerie said that keeps ringing in my ears is true.

I am also in pain because I love her. I want her to be fine. I want us to be together. If this turns out to be a joke like I presume it to be, then I don’t think I can be with her.

She has no idea how close Mother and I are. I admit that I am not too close to Dad but Anita is closer to him than I am.

But Mother and I share an unbreakable bond. She tells me everything. Every secret. There is no way in the world that she can hide a huge secret like this away from me.

What Valerie is claiming is pure nonsense. I don’t know if she knows the gravity of what she is saying.

It means Mother cheated on my Dad. It means I am a bastard.

If this gets out, Valerie will be in big trouble because Dad won’t let her go scot-free for wanting to ruin our prestigious family name.

I open the door and enter to see a heap of hair that scares the shit out of me.

“Shit!” I curse loudly and the owner of the hair drags it away to reveal her face.

Valerie.

What the hell is wrong with this woman?

There was hair all over her face when I came in. Why is she behaving like a crazy woman yet she keeps insisting that she is fine?

Is this the time when I have to start losing my trust in that doctor they call their family doctor? Are her parents trying to hide the fact that she is mentally unstable from me?

The doctor said she was fine. We went back to the hospital but he said she was fine. She refused to go to our family hospital for a reason best known to her.

I shove the door closed as she stares at me with a sad face before turning away with her head over the sofa and her arms folded.

She seems to be in deep thought.

We have been avoiding each other, even though we spend the night in the same room. I have no idea why she hasn’t run back to her room and why she still spends the night here.

She always does that whenever she wants to avoid me.

I venture fully into the room, pretending not to see her as I take off my jacket.

“Welcome”, I hear her say in a mumble, making me stop in my tracks.

For three days, we barely spoke a word to each other. Sometimes, I want to talk to her but the way she acts nonchalantly like she isn’t affected by it makes me so mad and I always end up not talking to her too.

She ought to be begging me for the humiliation and for not telling my parents about this.

I turn back slowly to confirm what I heard but she is still seated on the sofa without moving an inch.

“How was your day?” she asks, without turning back and that confirms my suspicion that she actually welcomed me home.

Despite everything, a smile creeps to my face.

She cares after all. I thought she didn’t.

Without a reply, I walk to the closet and take my clothes off. I am thinking she would say something else before I am done changing into sweatpants and a clean shirt but she doesn’t say a word till I am done.

She is still full of pride.

I doubt if she can ever beg me whenever she needs something from me.

I stand watching her from afar before I decide to go talk to her.

I started this malice and she wants to end it but her pride is getting in the way. I should be the mature one.

I stride close to where she is sitting. When I am close to her, she rises and wants to walk out on me but I grab her hands, stopping her.

She avoids my gaze.

She isn’t saying anything either. Her disheveled hair is hiding her face again but I can’t hide my displeasure at seeing her this way.

She looks better with her hair combed, straightened out, and packed. Not rough and disheveled.

Finally finding something good to talk about, I pull her back and begin to comb her hair back with my hand.

Suddenly, my hand touches something wet and I stop combing her hair back. My two hands are still on her face and they are both wet. When I comb the remaining hair backward, I find it wet again and I realize she has been crying.

She is hiding her crying face from me with her hair. She purposely packed all her hair on her face to hide the fact that she is crying.

Something melts inside of me. And I swallow hard.

A sinking feeling of hurt sets in.

I shouldn’t have ignored her. I should have given her a listening ear and tried my best to find a solution to all of this.

If she believes that he isn’t my father, then I should find evidence to prove to her that he is without bickering words with her.

I doubt if I have ever seen her in tears and it breaks my heart.

It dawns on her that I now know she is in tears, she tries to wriggle her way out but I hold her face more firmly, stroking it softly to comfort her.

She shuts her eyes and finally begins to let it out.

She suddenly burst into tears, leaving me completely clueless about what else to do now or what else to say.

Am I supposed to hug her despite everything? Am I supposed to kiss her to assure her that I still love her? Am I supposed to make love to her in this situation to let her know that my attraction for her is still intact despite my malice?

Am I supposed to ask for her forgiveness for not believing her? Am I supposed to tell her that I believe every word she said so she could stop crying?

What exactly am I supposed to do? What exactly does this enigmatic woman expect from me?

Without thinking further, I pull her in for an embrace and she hugs me tightly in response, shivers rippling down my spine at the body contact.

I miss her.

I miss this. I miss kissing her. I miss touching her.

I miss that cold, strong, proud woman I fell in love with. I miss arguing sweetly with her. I miss watching her get drunk and telling me sweet words.

I miss her confidence too.

I miss everything about her.

She disengages from the hug but before she can say anything, I take her lips in a searing kiss, as she stares at me through her long lashes.

A familiar feeling builds inside of me as she finally closes her eyes and responds to the kiss. I drop my right hand from her face and begin to trail it down her thighs, loving how she reacts to my touch.

When I get to her thighs, I grab her with possessiveness and a grunt. She lets out a gasp, her lips leaving mine.

I feel the absence.

The absence of her lips on mine and I try to push my lips further to kiss her again when she stops me with her hand over my mouth.

I let go of her legs and move away with an embarrassed look.

She isn’t smiling and I don’t know what is on her mind.

“Good night”, she finally smiles, her face dry from the tears. She walks past me to leave the room but I stop her.

“Val?” she halts in her step and turns back to face me. For the first time in months, I see her looking nervous. She is biting down on her lips in nervousness.

I guess she is trying to avoid the topic of our recent arguments. She wants to leave the room because she knows this is something we need to talk about after the kiss we just had.

I stalk towards her with a dark look, imagining all the dark things I will do to her once this is all over.

I sigh deeply, thinking of what to say to lighten the mood.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, will you?” My attempt at humor works a little because she flushes in embarrassment and turns away, giving me the chance to hug her from behind.

I love this position. I wish we can stay this way and forget about my Dad being my dad or not.

But we need to talk about this. We need to clear the air.

“I still love you, Val, and I will always do no matter what happens or what happens to you or what you say about my Dad not…”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Ryan!” she twirls around, breaking free from the hug.

My second attempt at humor is whack. I didn’t succeed.

Her eyes twinkle with anger and seriousness. “This is not something we should joke over. Your mother’s life is at stake here.”

We are back to square one.

“I see you still don’t believe me. What was all that for then?”

The kiss, you mean? I want to ask her. I didn’t mean to, it just happened.

I find myself not saying anything.

“I should go”, she says and turns to go.

“Let’s go have dinner at the mansion tomorrow”, I declare openly without stopping her from going out.

Without indicating whether she heard me or not, she takes the door out.