The Billionaire's Bet

Chapter 4 : Suspicions

To see is to believe

Evanly

The air outside felt too still, like the world was holding its breath. I walked, forcing myself to focus on the crunch of gravel under my shoes. This neighborhood used to feel like home. Now it felt like a shadow of something I'd left behind. Memories clung to every corner — good ones... but also the kind that made me wish I never came back.

I bought what I needed from the shop and decided to cut through the park on the way back. The sun was sinking, bleeding gold across the sky.

That's when I saw them.

A group of guys my age, leaning against a bench. Their eyes followed me like I was something to eat.

"Damn, look at her."

"I'd ride that so hard."

"Bet she's single."

I ignored them, biting back the urge to flip them off. Not worth it. Can't a girl wear a skirt and not be lusted after by hungry men? So disgusting.

But then I saw him.

He sat alone, the only person on the far end of the park. He didn't fit here — not with his sleek black suit and the way his fingers tapped against his phone like he owned the fucking world. Pale skin, dark hair that barely brushed his ears, and those eyes. Ice-blue, cold enough to cut. A silver ring glinted on his thumb, matching the expensive watch on his wrist. Tattoos crept from beneath his shirt collar, curling over his hands.

He looked like trouble. The kind you run from... or walk straight into.

I sat on the bench across from him, pretending to scroll through my phone.

His voice pulled me out of it.

"Fancy seeing someone like you here?"

I glanced up, that voice. Deep. Smooth. The kind that made promises you knew were lies — but you'd believe them anyway. His Italian accent slipped between the words like honey but his comment set me off and did not sit right with me.

"And what's that supposed to mean," I replied sharply, my throat suddenly dry but my eyes storming with anger.

"Aren't married women supposed to be home right now cooking for their husbands and kids?", his voice dropped to a fine low, sending sweet shivers down my spine. Once again his words were like a stubborn bite from a pasty big, annoying, irritating and immensely offensive to all women around the world.

I scoffed sarcastically.

"Excuse me?! I'll have you know that not all women are programmed to be servants for their husbands, always seen as cooking and cleaning machines. How can you say something so ridiculous and uneducated, and I'll have you know I don't have any kids!"

He made a sizzling sound with his mouth and flashed me a bright, rich smile, all white—perfect teeth and slight canines and fangs. Something straight out of a mafia romance book. "That burns, caro, but I deserve that."

His gaze pinned me in place, eyes dragging slowly over me and that damn accent of his. This could've sent a woman in ovulation in a frenzy.