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Unwanted Concern
Last Updated:
2025-02-21 00:32:48
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Billionaire's Choice Eyes Everywhere
Aria’s PovThe restaurant buzzed with the usual weekend crowd—brunch-goers sipping on mimosas, forks clinking against porcelain plates, and soft laughter weaving through the background noise. But my attention was locked on the entrance.Minutes passes and then, I saw them.Nicole. Jenna. Liv. My girls.Three hurricanes walking into a room—effortless, loud, and completely unapologetic.Before I could react, I was engulfed in a hug—Nicole’s arms tight around me, her silky black bob brushing against my cheek. She smelled like expensive perfume, the kind that lingered even after she left the room. “Do you know how much we missed you?” she huffed, pulling back just enough to scan me from head to toe. Her sharp brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “Look at you. Hair done. Nails done. Dripping in money. You look rich.”I scoffed. “I look the same.”“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re actually married now,” Liv gasped, holding me at arm’s length. Her sun-kissed blonde waves were lighter from the
Last Updated : 2025-02-21Billionaire's Choice A Different Her
Gabriel’s POVSaturdays used to be mine.No meetings, no endless calls, no forced conversations. Just quiet.Some mornings, I’d work out in the private gym, the rhythmic sound of weights grounding me. Other days, I’d spend hours in my study, reading reports or reviewing investments, uninterrupted. If I felt like it, I’d take the car out for a long drive with no destination—just me, the road, and silence.But that silence had been harder to find ever since I got married.I told myself nothing had changed. That I still did what I wanted, when I wanted.And yet, here I was, sitting in my private lounge, drink in hand, watching her.The live feed played on my screen, and my eyes were locked onto it. Locked onto her.Aria sat in the corner of the restaurant, completely unaware that I could see her. She was smiling—really smiling. Not the forced, polite one she gave me. Not the blank look she used when she wanted to ignore me. This was different. Effortless. Real.I let out a slow breath, s
Last Updated : 2025-02-22Billionaire's Choice The Attack
Gabriel’s POVThe moment I ended the call with Edward, I grabbed my keys and strode toward the garage, my mind a storm of calculations and frustration.She had insisted on leaving.I had been on my way. I had told Edward to not leave the restaurant before I got there. But Aria, being stubborn and impossible, had decided otherwise.I yanked open the driver’s side door and slid in, the engine roaring to life beneath my grip. As I pulled out of the driveway, I was already dialing Jonathan.He picked up immediately.“I need you tracking a vehicle. Grey sedan, following my wife’s car. Edward just confirmed it.”I couldn’t stop myself before I said it. My wife.There was no hesitation. “I’m on it.”“Get me everything. Were they waiting before she left? Did they tail her from the restaurant?”A few clicks on Jonathan’s end. Then: “They were parked a block away before she even stepped outside.”My jaw tightened. That confirmed it. This wasn’t a coincidence.“They’re taking the alternate route
Last Updated : 2025-02-23Billionaire's Choice Under His Control
Gabriel’s POVI exhaled, rolling my shoulders back before turning to her.I pulled open the passenger door, and the first thing that hit me was the sharp, acidic scent of vomit. Aria sat stiffly, her hands clenched into tight fists on her lap, her body tense. Her face was turned away from me, her breath shallow, and even in the dim light, I could see the way her shoulders shook ever so slightly.She was embarrassed.“Edward, take the car home,” I ordered, already reaching for her. “She’s coming with me.”Edward nodded.I didn’t give her the chance to speak. Instead, I reached for her—gently, but firmly. “Come here.”She hesitated, her pride forcing her to resist, but I didn’t let her. I slid one arm beneath her legs and the other around her back, and lifted her out of the car, cradling her against my chest. She weighed nothing. Her breath hitched.“I—”“Quiet.”Her body went rigid, but she didn’t fight me as I carried her toward my car. The scent of vomit lingered between us, but I di
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Gabriel’s POV The ride home was silent. Aria had fallen asleep somewhere along the way, curled up in the passenger seat with my jacket wrapped around her. She looked exhausted. Frail, even. But at least she wasn’t shivering anymore. I kept one hand on the wheel and the other adjusting the jacket over her every now and then, making sure she was warm. My driving was slower than usual—not just because I didn’t want to wake her, but because I didn’t want her panicking again. I’d seen it happen before. I wasn’t about to let it happen again tonight. As I pulled into the mansion’s driveway, my phone buzzed in the cupholder. Grandma. I exhaled sharply before answering. “You’re home?” she asked, skipping the pleasantries. “Yes.” I cut the engine. She sighed. “How is she?” “Sleeping.” I glanced at Aria, who was still motionless in the seat beside me. “She had a panic attack.” There was a pause. “I heard,” she said, voice quieter. “Jonathan called me.” Of course, he did.
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Gabriel’s POV The second Aria landed on me, I knew I was in trouble. It happened so fast. One second, she was pushing at my chest, demanding I put her down, and the next, she miscalculated her step, her balance betraying her. Instead of landing on the bed, she crashed into me. Neither of us moved. My hands shot out, gripping her waist instinctively as she landed on my lap, knees on either side of my thighs. A sharp breath left me as I looked up at her, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hands clutched my shoulders for balance, fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt like she was anchoring herself. She froze. So did I. For a split second, I forgot how to breathe. The warmth of her body, the soft press of her weight against me—it sent a dangerous jolt through my system. A feeling I hadn’t allowed myself in years. Something dark curled inside me. I wanted to devour her. I wanted to claim every shaky breath, every hesitant gaze, every moment she spent not realizing wh
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Aria’s POV This was the second time I’d gone to sleep on the couch and woken up in the bed. Gabriel had carried me. Again. I glanced around the room, half-expecting him to be standing there, watching me like the control freak he was, but he wasn’t. Where had he gone so early this morning? Well, at least this meant I could have a moment to myself. I sat up, pushing the blanket off me, and glanced over at the couch. It was empty, like I had never been there in the first place. No pillow, no blanket, nothing. He hadn’t just moved me, he had made sure there was no trace of my stubbornness. My gaze flicked to the nightstand, where a tray of food sat next to a bottle of pills. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of orange juice. Neat and intentional. Next to it was a small folded note. I reached for the note, unfolding it with slow fingers. It read: “Eat. Take your meds.” A part of me knew I should just eat the damn food. I was hungry. But the other more stubborn part of me still
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Gabriel’s POVThe scent of damp concrete and stale air filled the basement beneath my private villa. The room was dimly lit, a single overhead bulb casting shadows against the rough walls. The man we had caught; Aria’s stalker, was tied to a steel chair, his wrists bound behind him, his head slumped forward. Blood trailed from his split lip, staining the collar of his shirt.Jonathan stood near the entrance, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on the prisoner. To his right, Owen, the torturer, leaned against a table lined with tools. The guard, Silas, remained by the door, hands clasped behind his back, his stance rigid.I stepped forward, my footsteps echoing. The man barely lifted his head.“Has he talked?” I asked, my voice cutting through the silence.Owen sighed, rubbing his knuckles. “Not a word. Stubborn bastard.”Jonathan exhaled sharply. “We’ve tried everything. Maybe he’s just a hired hand who doesn’t know much.”I wasn’t convinced. I crouched in front of the man, gripping h
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ARIA’S POVI needed air. Space. Sanity. Something.The second I stormed out of that office, I didn’t stop walking. I just kept going. Past the hallway, past the fake smiles and curious stares, until I hit the rooftop door and shoved it open.Cold wind rushed against my skin like it knew I was seconds from losing it. I walked to the edge, gripped the metal railing, and let out a breath that trembled against the fury in my chest.What the hell was he doing here?Of all the damn places on earth. Colorado. My job. My world.And now he was standing there like a ghost that refused to stay buried.I heard footsteps behind me, and my stomach sank.“Ari…”Of course.I didn’t turn. “Don’t come near me.”“I just want to talk.”I turned then, slow, sharp. “You’ve done enough talking, Gabriel. You did all your talking with that divorce paper.”He flinched, just slightly, but I didn’t stop.“You made me leave, without a word. No explanation. Nothing. And now what? You show up here, what? You buy th
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Aria's POVWe’d been sitting here for a while now, settled into our booth, chatting like it was just any other evening. Dylan was easy to talk to, surprisingly so. Maybe I’d been wrong about him. He wasn’t exactly my type, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Actually, he had a way of making me laugh without trying too hard. Maybe that was a nice change.I couldn’t help but smile as he raised an eyebrow at the wine list. “How do you choose between something like this and something more... adventurous?” He gave me a teasing look, like he knew what I was thinking.“Well, you have to be in the mood for it,” I replied, leaning back in the booth, still looking at my menu. “But sometimes, it’s about taking a risk. You know?”He chuckled, the sound warm and easy. “Taking risks, huh? Yeah, I can get behind that. I’ve had my share of those.” He shrugged casually, almost nonchalantly. “Started my own company with almost no money. Almost lost it all, but it worked out. Sometimes you just have to take the le
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Aria’s POV"Ugh, I swear," Jenna groaned, tugging her hair into a messy bun on screen. "If one more designer tries to sell me a ‘reinvention of classic minimalism’ that’s just a white shirt with a pocket, I’m quitting.""You’ve said that three times this year," Liv teased, propped up against a stack of pillows in what looked like a dreamy Airbnb. “Also, that white shirt is probably $700.”"Don’t remind me," Jenna rolled her eyes. “God forbid minimalism be affordable.”Nicole gave a small laugh as she scrolled through something on her iPad. “Meanwhile, I had to convince a luxury skincare brand today that launching a ‘gritty street-style’ campaign with models in couture was not... the vibe.”Liv made a face. "What does that even mean?"“Exactly,” Nicole said. “I think they just throw buzzwords into a blender and hope for the best.”I smiled quietly, watching them talk. I didn’t say much at first; I just listened. It had been a while since we were all on a call like this together, and so
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Gabriel’s POV “You’ve got some nerve, Gabriel, coming all the way to Mexico to call for a truce. Do you really think you can reason with a man like me?” Diego’s voice dripped with venom, each word hanging in the air like a challenge. His eyes were cold, unblinking as they locked onto mine. I met his gaze with the same intensity, my voice calm and controlled. “I’m not here to fight, Diego. I’m here to talk. Nothing more, nothing less.” Diego’s sneer deepened, but I held my ground, my mind already retracing the events of the past two weeks. The eye-opening conversation I’d had with my father. The family dynamics. Diego’s past. My father had spoken of the years of bitterness Diego carried, the resentment born from how my grandfather had abandoned him and the death of his mother, a death he believed we were responsible for. But that conversation had been only the beginning. A week later, Andrew had dropped the real bombshell: documents that could bring Diego down. These weren’t
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Gabriel's POVI didn’t say a word as the jet took off. The conversation with my father sat heavily in my mind, but I forced it aside. For now.I leaned back in my seat, exhaling slowly. The cabin lights were dim, casting a muted glow over the polished wood and leather. The hum of the engines was steady, almost soothing.Then, almost instinctively, I reached into my pocket.The familiar weight of the pocket watch pressed against my palm, cool and solid. I flicked it open with my thumb. The soft click echoed louder than it should have in the silence.And there she was, her pretty face staring back at me. My Ari, my angel. The picture was taken in our bedroom, a moment I’d stolen when she had no idea. She was in her natural state, completely unaware of the camera in my hand. Her hair was a little wild from sleep, and her eyes had that soft, distant look that made her so damn beautiful. It was a simple shot, but I loved it, because it was her, in the most authentic and unguarded way. I ha
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Gabriel's POVThe silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. The air in my father's living room felt heavier than before, like the walls had closed in around us.I forced myself to breathe. To stay still. To absorb what I had just heard.Diego was family.I sat down, my body moving before my mind could fully catch up. “Explain,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.Andrew didn’t speak immediately. He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table, poured himself another glass, and stared into the amber liquid like it held the past itself. “You think you know the Deveraux family,” he said. “But you don’t. Not really.”I said nothing.He let out a slow breath. “This goes back to Richard,” he began. “My father. Your grandfather.”I knew that name well. The man who built the Deveraux empire. The man everyone claimed was ruthless, brilliant, untouchable.Andrew continued, “Richard had an affair while on a business trip to Mexico. A woman, who wasn’t just some mist
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Gabriel's POVTCA wasn’t new to me. I had trained here for years, stepping into the ring whenever I needed an outlet. Back then, it was about control, about reminding myself that power wasn’t just about wealth or influence, it was about knowing I could end a fight before it even started.But now, it wasn’t about control.It was about survival.I adjusted my stance, muscles coiled with tension as Cole, my personal trainer, circled me. His gaze was sharp, unreadable, assessing, calculating. There was no sympathy in his eyes, no wasted words. Just the demand for perfection."You’re too slow," he said flatly. "Again."TCA wasn’t a regular gym. It was where professionals trained; fighters, bodyguards, men who understood that losing wasn’t an option.There were no influencers shadowboxing in front of mirrors, no weekend warriors pretending to be something they weren’t. This was a place for men who needed to be ready for war.I wasn’t new to combat, but this wasn’t about street fights or bru
