THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 136: To the plan...

Chapter 136: To the plan...

"Tryson... Tryson..."

The sound of his name echoed in his hazy mind, the last words he heard before his body lost all strength.

Just as his knees buckled, and he was about to collapse onto the cold floor, a pair of arms caught him—firm yet eerily gentle.

Through his blurred vision, he swore the woman holding him looked like Angel. But something felt off.

She wasn’t Angel.

As his consciousness wavered, the truth remained hidden from him.

The woman, in reality, was one of Riley’s trusted agents—someone called upon only when the job demanded precision.

Chosen for her striking resemblance to Angel, she had been briefed beforehand.

The plan was executed flawlessly: Alex had already arranged for the cigarette smoke laced with intoxicants to weaken Tryson’s senses, making him easier to manipulate. This way, he wouldn’t be as suspicious of his surroundings or his own actions.

The moment the mission was completed, Alex wasted no time.

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed Riley. "It’s done," he informed her curtly, ensuring she was ready for the next phase.

Meanwhile, the woman playing her role to perfection let out a quiet, frustrated growl as she adjusted Tryson’s limp weight in her arms.

"Damn, he’s heavier than he looks," she muttered under her breath before raising her phone to her ear.

"Ma’am, the job is done," she reported to Riley, her voice steady and professional.

Knowing they couldn’t afford to draw attention, she acted quickly.

Glancing around, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a mask. With practiced efficiency, she secured it over Tryson’s face, ensuring the cameras in the room wouldn’t capture his expression or his vulnerable state.

Just as she started dragging him towards the exit, a few guests took notice of the scene.

"Is he okay?" one of them asked, their tone laced with concern.

Without missing a beat, the woman forced a wide, reassuring smile and waved them off.

"Nothing to worry about! He just had a little too much to drink," she said smoothly, her tone lighthearted despite the tension coiling in her chest.

Her act was convincing enough, and no one pressed further.

Moments later, a few men—also in on the plan—arrived. Together, they hoisted Tryson’s unconscious body and swiftly carried him down the staircase leading to a waiting van. Everything had gone according to plan.

Now, all that was left was to deliver him.

The drive was short, a brief journey through dimly lit streets, but it was long enough for the tension in the van to thicken.

By the time they arrived at a nearby hostel, discreetly located near the event center, the plan was already in motion.

Two men, their movements swift and practiced, pulled Tryson up by the shoulders, hoisting his unconscious body between them as they carried him toward the room.

The hallway was quiet, the low hum of distant chatter barely reaching them. When they reached the door, it creaked open before they could knock.

Riley stood there, her presence commanding yet effortlessly elegant in a silky robe that clung to her frame. Her lips curled into the faintest smirk as she stepped aside, allowing them to enter.

"Lay him there." Her voice was smooth, laced with satisfaction as she gestured toward the bed.

The men obeyed without question, carefully lowering Tryson onto the mattress.

His body remained limp, his breathing steady but shallow—proof that the intoxication had done its job. Riley watched in silence, her gaze locked onto his unconscious form.

Once the task was complete, she moved swiftly, shutting the door behind them with a quiet click. And then, for a moment, she simply stood there, staring at him.

Tryson.

He looked so defenseless like this, completely unaware of what was happening.

A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across her lips. This was her moment—her chance to finally rid Angel from his life.

She had made sure to ask Alex if she could be involved, and now, here she was, playing her part to perfection.

After all, they were all working toward the same goal: getting Angel out of the picture.

And Riley? She was more than happy to be the one pulling the strings.

This time, no matter what happened, Angel would walk away from Tryson for good. And when she did, Riley would finally get what she wanted.

"Tryson?"

Her voice was soft, almost tender, as she called his name. His body stirred slightly, a weak response as he struggled to regain his senses. But his eyelids remained heavy, refusing to open.

He was still too far gone.

Perfect.

With a small smirk, Riley turned away, stepping toward the edge of the room where her bag rested. Slipping a hand inside, she pulled out a syringe, its needle glinting under the dim light. She moved with careful precision, drawing a measured dose of thick syrup from a small vial.

Turning back, she approached the bed, her steps slow, deliberate. Then, crouching beside Tryson’s unconscious form, she pressed the syringe against his arm.

And without hesitation, she injected the drug into his veins.

A mischievous smile played on Riley’s lips as she glanced at the small, hidden cameras she had carefully positioned around the room.

Each one was angled perfectly, ensuring they would capture every moment—every intimate detail—just as she had planned. Once Angel saw the footage, there would be no room for doubt.

With a satisfied hum, she turned her attention back to Tryson.

Sliding onto the bed beside him, she took a moment to admire his features.

His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his expression calm in unconscious slumber. Riley’s eyes softened as she traced an invisible line along his jaw, her fingers barely grazing his skin.

Damn, she had missed him.

A quiet sigh left her lips as an undeniable pull tightened in her chest.

Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward. The next moment, her lips met his—soft, lingering, savoring the warmth of his skin against hers.

She didn’t rush.

She let the kiss settle, drowning in the feel of it, in the illusion of something real. Her fingers ghosted over his cheek as she tilted her head, deepening the moment, allowing herself to get lost in it.

If only time could freeze right here. If only she didn’t have to wake up from this dream.

Her lips parted slightly, teasing, tasting, letting the sensation linger.

But just as she began to pull away, Tryson stirred beneath her. A deep, low growl rumbled in his throat, his body shifting as his senses slowly started to recover.

Then, his brows furrowed.

His instincts kicked in. Even in his hazy state, he realized someone was on top of him.

Another soft growl escaped his lips as he instinctively lifted his hand, his fingers brushing against Riley’s arm. The touch was light—uncertain—but it sent a jolt through her.

Still, she didn’t flinch.

She remained perfectly still, watching him, waiting for him to fully wake up. Her expression held no trace of guilt, no hesitation.

If anything, she seemed... amused.

As Tryson slowly pushed himself upright, his muscles tensed, his breath uneven. The moment his eyes fluttered open, he turned his head toward Riley.

His gaze—still fogged from whatever they had drugged him with—held confusion, suspicion, and the lingering remnants of sleep.

And Riley?

She simply leaned back, her lips curving into the faintest of smirks, letting him piece together the moment for himself.

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