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BILLIONAIRE'S LIES CHAPTER 21

Author: MIKS DELOSO
last update Huling Na-update: 2024-11-06 23:11:26

Almost 5days had gone by, and not a single word, message, or call from his end. The deafening silence on the other end of the line was more agonizing than anything he could have hurled at her as Sabrina walked across the living room, clutching her phone in hand with unanswered calls and messages piling up.

She kept replaying the argument in her head and trying to understand the whole situation. She had bared her soul before him, hoping that he would see her pain and understand that she needed him to see her as a partner. He shrugged off everything, leaving her to drown in the echo of her own desperation.

Just as she was starting to believe that no one had returned, the front door clicked open. Sabrina froze, her heart racing with every beat as Benedict strode into the room, his face blank and indifferent as he dropped his keys on the table. He didn't even look or glance at her, walking past her as if she wasn't even there and never existed.

"Benedict," she whispered, trying to keep
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    The boat drifted across the Aegean as the world entered that golden hour before evening. The sky was affame with shades of rose and amber, and at the bow stood Clarisse, her hair whipping in the breeze.Saben slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.“You cold?” he muttered.“No. Not when you're holding me.”He kissed the back of her shoulder and lingered, his lips warm and gentle. She relaxed against him, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her palms.“This view…” she whispered.“It’s stunning,” he said-but his eyes were on her, not the horizon.Clarisse’s breath caught."Saben," she whispered, her voice barely audible.He turned her gently toward him.His fingers lifted her chin.The wind paused.The sea was stilled.And he kissed her-slow, deep, unhurried. A kiss that tasted of promise, of home, of all she had ever dreamed of when she dared imagine forever.Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers clenching into his shirt. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling

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    THE HOTELTheir resort sat on the highest point of Imerovigli, exclusive, secluded, with infinity pools carved into the cliff, and bougainvillea vines crawling across white stone walls like strokes of fuchsia paint.They were led through a stone arch into the lobby, where an entire caldera opened in front of them.They were met with chilled towels, fresh lemonade, and warm smiles from the staff."Congratulations on your wedding," said a woman. "Your honeymoon villa has been prepared with special arrangements.Slowly, Clarisse turned to Saben, her eyes wide. “Villa?”He lifted a brow, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Only the best for my wife.”Her heart melted. Again.When the door swung open, Clarisse stopped breathing.The villa was pure magic: floor-to-ceiling windows with a sweeping view of the sunset.White and stone interiors aglow with gold from the afternoon light, A private plunge pool with a view of the sea in blue, Rose petals on the bed shaped in a heart so fine and deli

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    Morning sunlight streamed softly through the vast glass windows of the Thompson estate, warm and golden-the kind of light that felt like a blessing. The reception had ended only hours ago, yet the house still hummed with traces of last night's laughter, applause, and tears of joy.Clarisse was the first to stir awake.She blinked her eyes, adjusting to the light, and then smiled slowly because there he was.It was Saben Thompson, sleeping beside her, the sheets draped low over his hips, his arm stretched possessively over her waist, even in sleep. The morning light softened his usually sharp jawline, and for the first time in a long while, his features looked … peaceful. Young. Alive.She gently stroked his cheek.She whispered to herself, "We're married," still half in disbelief.As though hearing her, Saben’s eyes opened — slow, warm, heavy-lidded.“Good morning, Mrs. Thompson,” he murmured, voice deliciously rough.Clarisse's heart skipped a beat.“You sound dangerous in the morni

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    The pressure relented and she leaned up, sputtering slightly but not as worried as she was when he held her. His hand slid to the front of her dress and roughly groped her small breasts as she continued to slide her mouth up and down.She leaned down further, feeling more confident than the first few times Saben asked her for this but still unsure. She looked up at him, bobbing faster now, letting his thick head just touch her throat and pausing there before sliding back up."Uhhhh keep going!" he groaned. His grasp on her breast became tighter, bordering on painful before letting up as he reached down and started pumping himself. Helen leaned back and drew in deeply from her nose, blinking her eyes and thinking how her makeup likely looked a wreck now.Keeping her mouth on him, she looked up to find Saben's intense lust-filled gaze on her. The intensity was shocking at times. Her husband usually was so gentle and quick to laugh, but in times like these, there was a hardness to his fe

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    Her words felt like a vow sealed not by ceremony, but by the beating of her heart. Saben exhaled shakily, overwhelmed, his hand rising to cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin with the reverence of a man who had lost her once and never intended to lose her again."Clarisse…" he murmured, as though her name alone was a prayer.She leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm and the steady strength in his eyes drawing her in. The world around them faded - the music outside, the soft hum of celebration, even the glow of their wedding suite - until all she could feel was him. His breath. His nearness. His love.She reached out for him slowly, her hand going to his chest, feeling the rapid thrum beneath the suit. His heart was racing. For her. Always for her.He caught her hand gently, pulling it against him, lowering his head until his lips hovered just above hers. His voice dropped to a rough whisper.“You have no idea what you do to me.”Her breath caught. His forehead

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    She paused, letting her gaze sweep over Saben and Clarisse, who stood hand in hand, their eyes locked on one another. "Clarisse, you've brought a calm to our Saben's life that none of us dared hope for. You've given him peace, laughter, and a home for his heart. And Saben… my boy, you've chosen wisely. You've chosen love, and you've chosen to stay-as a man and as a partner. For that, I am proud beyond words."Applause drifted throughout the garden, genuine and deep, amidst the clinking of glasses as old friends and family nodded, some with tears shining in their eyes.Then Teresa Thompson, Saben’s mother, spoke. Her voice was soft but unyielding. “Love is not measured by the grandeur of gestures, nor the jewels, nor applause. Love is measured by the quiet moments: the times when you choose one another despite fear, despite doubt, despite every obstacle that life throws in your path. Today, I celebrate the love that my son and Clarisse have chos

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