Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 48: Mister temptation

Chapter 48: Mister temptation

Chapter 46: Mister temptation

"What rules, princess?" Lorenzo asked with a frowning. That didn’t resemble the answer to his question.

"About being your mistress. Isn’t that what you want?"

Lorenzo cussed silently. Was that the reason she was drunk? Could this be his fault?

"You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t drunk, Ashley. I’m taking you home."

But before he could move, Ashley grabbed a fistful of his shirt, blinking up at him, lashes fluttering in the cutest way.

"I don’t want to go home," she said with a pout. "I admit I drank a little to celebrate the company’s new milestone, but..." She jabbed a finger at his chest, poking a spot on his shirt like it held some kind of secret. "I drove myself here—well, maybe I asked one, no, two people for directions," she added, holding up two fingers. "...but it doesn’t count, since I did most of the thinking," she giggled, as if she’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. "Did you say you drove yourself?"

She nodded like a proud child.

Fuck. He shut his eyes briefly. God, she didn’t even realize how much danger she’d put herself in tonight. He wanted to scold her. To shake her. To kiss her.

But not like this. Not when she might forget it all by morning. Or worse... hate him more.

"Where the fuck is your driver?" His voice was low, tight. That grumpy guy had one job—how could he let her drive in this state? What ifs filled his head.

Ashley frowned in thought before shrugging. "I left him at the office. I gave him money for a cab, so I’m not entirely heartless." Then she tilted her head. "Wait... am I in trouble now, Mister Temptation?" Her hands cupped his face.

Lorenzo blinked. Mister Temptation? What the hell kind of name was that?

But he didn’t have the time to dwell on it, her next words made his heart skip.

"Do you want to cuff me and spank my ass now?" she teased, trailing a finger down the firm line of his stomach through his shirt.

His breath caught.

A flush of heat rushed through him, beads of sweat breaking across his forehead.

That dream. Shit.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, stepping back to put space between them, immediately missing the contact.

Ashley, oblivious to his internal chaos, giggled at his reaction. If only she knew the effect her mindless touches had on him.

"I’m taking you home now," Lorenzo said firmly, not leaving room for argument. But as he pressed the door button and reached for her hand, Ashley stepped back.

Lorenzo dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. She was a pain in the ass when drunk. A beautiful, infuriating pain in the ass.

He moved toward her, and she took another step back—until it turned into a chase around his desk. When he finally caught her, he didn’t hesitate. He hoisted her over his shoulder, her laughter echoing like some kind of victory anthem.

And God, even her laugh was turning him on. All he wanted was to toss her back on his desk and punish her for risking her life. For having so much control over him. He so badly wanted to relive that dream.

But he couldn’t.

She’d only end up hating him more when she came back to her senses.

They had barely crossed the door when her laughter abruptly stopped.

Before he could even sigh in relief, she jerked forward and threw up.

All. Over. His. Back.

What. The. Fuck.

He crouched quickly, lowering her until she stood on wobbly legs. Gently, he pulled her hair back, his chest tightening with worry as he waited for her to finish.

"Ugh... my bad," she mumbled when it was over, pouting as she stared at the mess on the floor. "I’m gonna bathe you when I feel better, okay? And I’ll bathe the floor too. Promise."

Like hell he was going to let her touch this mess. But she said it with such innocence, he almost smiled.

Hissing under his breath, he scooped her into his arms and headed in the opposite direction—toward his bathroom.

Once inside, he placed her under the shower and turned it on. Ashley gasped as the cold water hit her skin.

Lorenzo swallowed hard, his gaze landing on her taut nipples as the water clung to every curve of her soaked dress.

She was still a mess. But God, what a tempting mess.

He shut his eyes briefly, forcing a breath through his nose.

She’s drunk. Vulnerable. If anything happened now, she’d hate him even more.

That reminder restrained him.

Ashley stood there quietly, the water slowly washing away the haze clouding her mind.

When Lorenzo reached to help her with her clothes, she quickly caught his hand, a flicker of awareness in her eyes. Her heart thudded at their closeness. But she still wasn’t aware where they were, and she didn’t try finding out.

The tension between them grew thicker.

Lorenzo’s gaze went to her parted lips, lingering there a second too long.

God, he wanted to kiss the hell out of her.

"I can take off my clothes," Ashley said, her voice barely above a whisper, almost breathy, unsure.

Lorenzo’s thumb gently brushed her lower lip in a slow, subconscious manner, earning a slight shiver from her.

Thank God she’d stopped him—he wasn’t sure he could’ve gotten through bathing her without crossing a line they’d both regret.

Ashley’s heart thundered in her chest.

Despite the cold water cascading down her body, she felt hot. Too hot.

Like something was burning beneath her skin. Perhaps it was the alcohol...or the man in front of her, she couldn’t quite tell.

"I’m going to use the other bathroom to clean up," Lorenzo said, his voice low after what felt like an eternity to them both. "I’ll leave one of my shirts outside the door for you to change into."

It took everything in him to say those few words.

Ashley gave a tiny nod.

Then, just before he stepped out, he tilted her chin up. Ashley’s beautiful sapphire eyes fluttered shut on their own, lips parting again, breath hitching.

But instead of kissing her lips, he kissed her forehead.

And walked away.

On opposite sides of the door, both of them exhaled—Relieved. Frustrated. Conflicted. And still burning.

*****

Earlier That Day

Raphael sat inside a quiet, dimly lit lounge with Vincent Morgen and Paul Brooklyn—the two investors who had recently pulled their shares from Flynn Enterprises. The air thick with unspoken tension.

"You told us you had this under control," Vincent said, his jaw tight with frustration.

"I did," Raphael replied, keeping his voice even. "I just didn’t expect her to close a deal with Grey Group."

He hadn’t believed it when he first heard. But after Ashley’s press release that afternoon...he couldn’t deny it anymore.

"I guess we all underestimated her," Paul muttered, his first words since the meeting started.

They had. The girl had gone from a nobody to a serious contender in a very short time.

"And now we’ll be losing money because of it," Vincent growled, eyes locking on Paul. "Especially you and me."

"I would’ve never pulled out if I knew you were just playing off assumptions, Raph," he continued. "What the hell were you thinking?"

How had he let himself walk away from a company that made him millions—just for a promised 10% increase once Raphael took over? It was the stupidest move of his career, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

"This isn’t the time to panic, Vincent," Raphael said coolly. "We can still turn this around. I just need time."

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

"If things work out this time, you won’t just get your 10%... I’ll give you both control over one of the company’s branches. You know what that means."

That caught Paul’s attention.

What was business without risk?

He’d built his empire by taking the kind of risks that left other men afraid and running. This was just another roll of the dice.

"So, what’s the plan this time, Raph?" Paul asked, watching him closely.

Vincent let out a sharp hiss and stood. "I’m not doing this again. I’m not getting dragged into your madness."

Raphael and Paul turned to him in unison.

"Where are you going now?" Paul asked, voice edged with disbelief.

"To find Ms. Flynn and see if there’s a way to fix my mistake," Vincent said flatly.

Raphael’s eyes darkened. "No. You’re not going to do that."

Vincent scoffed. "Try and stop me." He met Raphael’s glare head-on, then stormed out without another word.

Raphael clenched his jaw, the muscles ticking as he watched the door slam shut behind Vincent.

"Let him go," Paul said, surprisingly calm. "He’ll be back when he realizes he’s on the wrong boat." He leaned forward. "Now tell me how you plan to win this round."

Raphael exhaled slowly, nodding once. At least Paul was still in. That was all he needed—for now.

They began laying down new plans, determined to strike Ashley again... and this time, they wouldn’t miss.

Paul and Raphael weren’t just business allies—they were old friends. Men who backed each other no matter how risky the game became.

Meanwhile, Vincent arrived at Flynn Enterprises after a long, silent drive. He felt stupid but he pushed it down as he stepped into the reception.

"I’d like to speak with Ms. Flynn," he said to the receptionist.

She gave him a polite, practiced smile. "I’m sorry, sir. Ms. Flynn is currently in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. If your matter is urgent, you may return at a later time."

Vincent frowned but nodded, leaving with a clenched jaw. Of course he would be back... he just hoped it wasn’t too late.