THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 107: You are breathtaking...

Chapter 107: You are breathtaking...

The event soon progressed at a swift pace, and before they even realized it, Angel found herself standing in front of Tryson.

Their hands intertwined, fingers delicately laced together as they moved in perfect harmony with the enchanting melody that filled the grand ballroom.

Each step was slow and deliberate, their bodies instinctively attuned to the rhythm, as if the music itself guided them.

Their gazes locked, and in that moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them lost in the soulful embrace of the dance.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words, yet neither needed to speak—every movement, every breath, every lingering touch spoke volumes as they surrendered to the magic of the night.

With a graceful spin, Tryson skillfully twirled Angel, her dress fanning out like a blooming rose before she landed smoothly against his chest, her back pressed firmly to him.

He lowered his head toward her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her perfume—a blend of jasmine and something uniquely her-lily.

A mischievous smile played on his lips before he let them brush against her skin, trailing feather-light kisses along the delicate curve of her neck.

Angel let out a soft chuckle, her body shivering slightly under his teasing touch, the warmth of his breath sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

"You are breathtaking," Tryson whispered against her ear, his voice rich with admiration.

And before she could even respond, he pressed a tender kiss against the shell of her ear, making Angel giggle once more, though she couldn’t deny the way her heart fluttered at his words and touch.

"It’s funny how you haven’t left my side for even a moment," Angel mused, tilting her head slightly as they continued their slow dance, still locked in the same intimate position. "Don’t you want to mingle with your other clients? Surely, you have important people to talk to here."

Tryson scoffed lightly, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly as he ran a gentle hand through her hair.

"If I wanted to, I would have done so long before we arrived," he replied smoothly. "I told you before, Angel—I have no intention of letting you out of my sight tonight."

Angel couldn’t help but chuckle at his unwavering devotion.

There was something undeniably endearing about his possessiveness, though she sensed there was more to it than just affection.

Tryson, however, was lost in his own thoughts.

His reason for staying so close to Angel wasn’t just love or desire—it was caution.

The masquerade ball was the perfect setting for deception, and he knew one man who would certainly take advantage of that: Arthur.

The song soon came to its inevitable end, and the couple gracefully began making their way back toward their seats.

But just as they were approaching, a well-dressed man accompanied by an equally elegant woman, her arm elegantly entwined with his, stepped forward to intercept them.

Both wore masks, just like everyone else at the ball, but there was something unmistakable about the man’s aura—something that made Angel’s breath hitch in her throat the moment she heard him speak.

"I see it is a pleasure to meet you," the man said smoothly, his tone familiar, almost chillingly so.

Angel felt her heart race as recognition slammed into her like a crashing wave.

That voice... she knew that voice all too well.

A surge of unease curled in her stomach as the realization dawned on her—there was only one man who could speak in that manner, and that man was none other than her father.

"Mr. Alex, is that you?" Tryson asked, his tone cautious but composed.

A deep chuckle rumbled from the masked man, confirming Tryson’s suspicion.

"You’re quite right, son," Alex responded, his voice laced with an eerie warmth. "I see you’ve made it to my event. I’m glad."

Extending his hand, Alex gestured for a handshake, his presence commanding yet unreadable beneath the disguise.

Tryson hesitated only for a fraction of a second before taking the offered hand. "Ah, no, sir. As a key partner of the company, I wouldn’t dare miss the opportunity to honor you," he replied smoothly, masking any trace of apprehension.

Then, shifting his gaze toward the woman standing beside Alex, he added with a polite smile, "And, of course, to celebrate the birthday of your lovely wife."

The woman, draped in an exquisite gown, let a pleased blush color her cheeks at Tryson’s charming words, her eyes twinkling behind her ornate mask.

Yet, despite the elegance of the moment, Angel’s mind remained fixated on a single thought—fate had just led her face-to-face with the very man she had spent her life running from.

"You sure do know how to flatter a woman, son. Thank you for coming," Alex’s wife, Blossom, said with a gracious smile.

Her voice was smooth, almost melodic, carrying the poise of a woman accustomed to high society.

"And thank you for the birthday wish—it’s always lovely to be celebrated. But if I may ask..." She tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Who is the beautiful young lady you’ve decided to invite along with you?"

At her words, all attention turned to Angel.

The weight of their stares made her insides twist with unease.

A shiver crawled down her spine as she felt her breath hitch in her throat. It wasn’t just the pressure of being scrutinized—it was them.

The very people who had unknowingly shaped her past in the cruelest of ways. The very people responsible for the pain she had spent her life trying to bury.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. A tight, suffocating feeling coiled around her chest.

"Hmm..." Angel barely managed to murmur, her voice weak and unsteady.

Sensing her discomfort, Tryson swiftly stepped in, his voice calm yet authoritative.

"Well, this is Angel," he said with a charming yet firm smile, his arm subtly tightening around hers in silent reassurance. "She’s my fiancée. Soon to be my wife."

The words landed like a protective shield between Angel and the couple before them.

She remained still, watching as Blossom’s expression softened into a pleasant smile, while Alex’s gaze sharpened—his eyes lingering on her with an intensity that sent a jolt through her.

There was something unreadable in his stare, something unsettling beneath his poised demeanor.

"You know," Alex mused, his voice carrying a tinge of nostalgia, "I once had a daughter. She had a beautiful name, just like yours."

The moment those words left his lips, Angel felt her entire body go rigid.

Her fingers instinctively curled into a tight fist, her grip on Tryson’s arm tightening. A storm brewed within her, a mix of emotions so tangled she couldn’t even begin to unravel them.

Rage. Hatred. Pain.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to demand why he was speaking so casually, as if his past actions hadn’t shattered lives. As if he hadn’t been the very reason for the wounds she carried.

But she swallowed it all.

Alex’s eyes remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Then, with a casual smile, he asked, "May I know your last name?"

Angel’s breath caught. Her throat suddenly felt dry, constricted, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

There he was—the man her mother had warned her about.

The man she had spent her entire life running from. The man who had betrayed the woman who had given her everything, all for the sake of another.

And now, fate had led her straight into his path.

What a cruel, twisted world.

"I’d like to use the bathroom," she blurted out, the words slipping past her lips before she could think.