THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 101: Just to be sure...

Chapter 101: Just to be sure...

"Of course it’s you," she remarked, her voice carrying a sly edge.

Tryson’s brows knitted together, a frown tugging at his expression. His mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice low, curiosity and caution mingling in his tone.

Angel didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned back against the seat, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as if she’d just uncovered a secret.

Then she leaned in slightly, her gaze locking onto Tryson’s with an intensity that made the air between them crackle.

It was as if she were studying his every reaction, searching for the faintest crack in his composure. But really—what else could she expect from him?

Without breaking eye contact, she moved her hand towards his thigh, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his pants before tightening in a firm grip.

A flicker of something—surprise, maybe even weakness—flashed across Tryson’s face as his body reacted instinctively.

"That’s for tricking me," Angel murmured, her voice carrying a dangerous sweetness.

Tryson stiffened under her touch, his breathing faltering for just a moment.

His hand reached out, grasping hers as if to stop her—or maybe just to steady himself. His lips parted, and in an almost innocent tone, he spoke.

"What are you saying, Angel? What do you mean by tricked?"

Her eyes searched his, but before she could respond, a familiar word from Angel’s lips pierced the tension.

Samson.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. It was just as she suspected.

The way Tryson subtly tensed, the way his gaze darted—he had been the one calling Samson.

And she knew this for certain because before leaving the hotel building, she had hidden herself, waiting and watching to confirm her suspicions. And now? The truth was right in front of her.

"You’ll just act like you know nothing, won’t you, Tryson?" she whispered, her voice both amused and laced with accusation. "After all the games you played with me."

Her words hung in the air as Tryson’s expression darkened. He frowned, his mind racing to piece together what she was getting at.

But Angel could see it—beneath his confusion, there was something else. A crack in the mask. And she wasn’t about to let him slip away this time.

But then, Angel was silently grateful that Samson hadn’t revealed everything to Tryson—at least, not entirely.

That meant she still had the upper hand, a chance to catch him in his act.

She leaned in slightly, her voice laced with a mocking sweetness.

"Don’t you remember, Tryson? The sweat dripping down your face, the way you looked like you were about to give birth in the restroom?" She paused, letting the words sink in before delivering the final blow. "And yes, the grand one—your throat. It was sore, wasn’t it? Practically raw. So tell me... why is it suddenly back to normal, just like it was never affected at all?"

A flicker of realization flashed in Tryson’s eyes, and Angel smirked.

He had been trying to convince her otherwise, but now, he knew—she wasn’t a fool. She had figured it out.

Her satisfaction deepened as she watched him struggle for words. He understood exactly what she was getting at, and that made it all the more entertaining for her.

"So tell me," she pressed, her voice slow and deliberate, "why exactly did you call your brother and have him pretend to be you?"

The moment felt like a deep interrogation, and for the first time, Tryson couldn’t find the right words.

His mouth parted slightly, but no response came. Angel leaned back, folding her arms across her chest, her expression shifting to one of amused disbelief.

"You’re not going to tell me, are you?" she asked, tilting her head, her tone laced with mock disappointment.

Tryson opened his mouth again, wanting to explain himself, to spin the situation in his favor—but deep down, he knew.

Angel wasn’t going to fall for his tricks so easily. No matter how he twisted the situation, she had already unraveled the truth.

A slow exhale left his lips before he finally spoke. "Fine," he admitted, raising his hands in surrender. "I had some work to do, so I asked Samson to take my place and act like me."

Angel arched a brow, unconvinced. "Oh? And you thought I wouldn’t notice?"

Before she could say anything else, Tryson suddenly leaned in—swiftly, effortlessly closing the space between them.

Then, without warning, his lips brushed against her cheek in a fleeting yet deliberate kiss.

Angel’s breath hitched, her cheeks betraying her with the slightest flush. The unexpectedness of his touch, the warmth of his skin lingering against hers—it threw her off, if only for a second.

Tryson smirked at her reaction, his voice dipping into a husky whisper. "Now I’ve realized something," he murmured, his nose grazing against her skin, sending an undeniable shiver through her. "I can’t fool you... even if I want to."

His hand moved, attempting to pull her into an embrace, but before he could, Angel’s palm struck his wrist, pushing him away.

Tryson exaggerated a pout, his lips curving downward in playful protest. "Ouch," he drawled. "That hurt, Angel."

Angel merely rolled her eyes, refusing to let him sway her with his charm.

"Why would you call your brother to pretend to be you if it was just some work? You could’ve simply told me." Angel’s voice was sharp, laced with unmistakable disappointment.

Her gaze bore into Tryson, searching for any sign of remorse. "Besides," she continued, folding her arms, "did you really think you could fool me that easily?"

Tryson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before flashing a sheepish grin.

"I’m sorry, baby, I swear. I was going to tell you, but I just... I didn’t want to disturb you," he admitted, his tone dipping into something soft and coaxing.

Then, his lips curled into a smirk. "And look at you—looking all baddie and fierce. I just wanted to see the full transformation when I came back."

Before Angel could react, Tryson seized the opportunity. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest.

"Angel, you’re not seriously going to do this with me, are you?" he murmured, tilting his head as he gazed at her with playful intent.

Angel narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed, and opened her mouth to protest—but before she could say a word, Tryson leaned in swiftly, capturing her lips in a sudden, fleeting kiss.

Her breath hitched in shock. Eyes wide, she instinctively placed a hand on his chest, ready to push him away, but Tryson only smirked as he pulled back slightly.

"I know, I know... I shouldn’t try such tactics with you," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "But now that we’re here, I can’t help but wonder... how did you figure out it was Samson?"

His words were a distraction, his movements deliberate.

Before Angel could answer, Tryson’s lips brushed against her skin again—soft, teasing, coaxing. He trailed kisses along her jaw, then down to her neck, his touch warm and insistent.

Angel tried to resist, her mind screaming at her to stay firm, to not fall for his games, but the way his lips moved, the way he whispered against her skin—it was breaking down her resolve.