THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 48: Angel...

Chapter 48: Angel...

"Angel," Tryson called out, but before he could relish the moment, he heard a sharp scoff.

The warmth over his eyes vanished as the hands withdrew, and his brows furrowed.

Something was off.

Turning swiftly, his expression darkened the moment his gaze landed on the last person he expected.

"Riley?" His voice was cold, sharp enough to cut through the air between them.

But Riley only responded with a wide, knowing smile, her confidence unfazed by his icy tone.

She stepped closer, her fingers grazing his chest as she tilted her head up to meet his glare. Then, with an air of amusement, she clicked her tongue.

The sound sent a ripple of irritation through him.

Without hesitation, Tryson caught her wrist in a firm grip, stopping her from toying with him any further.

His jaw clenched, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "What are you doing?" His voice was low, laced with warning.

Riley, held captive by his grip, only pouted in response before lifting her gaze to his, her lips curling into another smug smile.

"Why so tense?" she mused, her voice dripping with cold amusement. "Did you really think I’d stay right at your house? That I wouldn’t follow you—everywhere you go?"

Tryson’s expression darkened, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly. His patience was wearing thin, but Riley only chuckled, as if his growing irritation was exactly what she wanted.

"Really, Tryson?" Riley mused, tilting her head as a sly smile stretched across her lips. "I’m not the one who has to fix your problems. But don’t think for a second you can walk away so easily—not without dealing with those pests first."

Tryson’s jaw tightened, his gaze locked onto her with a quiet, simmering intensity.

He watched as Riley skillfully curved her lips into a sweet, deceptive smile, her amusement barely veiling the sharp edge beneath.

His voice was rough, almost guttural when he spoke. "What did you do?"

Riley let out a quiet chuckle before casually reaching into her bag.

She pulled out a pair of sleek shades, slipping them on with practiced ease before leveling him with a slow, piercing stare.

"You already know what I always do," she murmured hoarsely.

Then, before he could react, she stepped in closer, pressing up on the tips of her heels, her fingers lazily curling around the back of his neck.

She didn’t care about the eyes on them, the hushed whispers from those who noticed. If anything, she relished it.

"And you know what’s even better, Tryson?" Her voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper. "I’m always right here—next to you. You don’t really want her that badly, do you? You need me. And if you finally realize it... I’ll be just across the room, waiting. No one can stop us. Okay?"

Her words dripped with seduction, her gaze daring him to respond.

But despite the temptation laced in every syllable, Tryson remained unmoved—his expression carved from ice.

Cold. Indifferent. Unshaken.

And that, more than anything, made Riley’s smirk falter—if only for a second.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Riley’s lips.

She knew Tryson in ways Angel never could—knew the man behind the carefully crafted facade he wore for the world.

Angel wouldn’t be able to handle him. Not the real him.

"Tryson." The voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Both Tryson and Riley jerked slightly, startled by the familiar sound.

Riley’s smirk only deepened, her body language exuding confidence, as if she had every intention of staying by Tryson’s side.

But before she could make her next move, Tryson’s grip tightened around her wrist. His voice was low, firm. "Leave."

For a moment, she hesitated, her sharp gaze searching his, but his expression was unreadable.

Finally, she exhaled and took a slow step back.

Angel called his name again, her voice softer this time as she moved closer.

From her vantage point, all she could see was Tryson’s broad frame, his posture tense, unreadable. Whatever had just transpired between him and the other woman remained hidden from her view.

But then, as Riley shifted away, Angel’s eyes flickered to the retreating figure. Something about the woman’s silhouette, the way she carried herself, sent a strange ripple of familiarity through her.

Her heartbeat quickened.

"Tryson..." She was standing just behind him now, her voice steady yet laced with quiet curiosity. "Who is she?"

Tryson exhaled deeply, raising a hand to his forehead, his fingers gently massaging the tension there.

His expression twisted slightly, as if he were in pain.

"Oh my... how could you say this?" he groaned dramatically, his voice laced with feigned agony.

For a moment, Angel watched him, then a burst of laughter escaped her lips.

She wasn’t sure why, but something about his reaction was so ridiculous that she couldn’t help but laugh.

That uneasy feeling—the strange familiarity of the woman—lingered in the back of her mind, but seeing Tryson like this, she waved it away.

"You’re not serious," she chuckled, playfully smacking his arm.

A slow smile spread across Tryson’s face.

His hand lifted, fingertips brushing against her cheek in a lingering touch. His gaze softened as he looked at her, admiration flickering beneath the surface.

"She’s nobody," he murmured in a husky tone. "Trust me, if I told you who she was, you might just get jealous." He smirked, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Angel narrowed her gaze, pouting slightly. "You’re not funny," she mumbled before nudging him lightly in the arm.

Tryson let out a low chuckle, and before they knew it, laughter spilled between them—light, effortless, like a momentary escape from the tension that had just filled the air.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply stood there, locked in each other’s gaze, the world around them fading into silence.

Tryson’s eyes softened, yet held a quiet intensity as he finally broke the silence. "I tried calling you repeatedly, but you weren’t answering." His voice was calm, but there was something unreadable beneath his tone.

Angel let out a small chuckle, lifting her phone for him to see. "I was about to pick up, but..." she tilted the device, showing him the dark screen. "My phone died before I could answer."

Tryson exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if trying to push away the frustration that had built up earlier.

"But you saw the note I left on the fridge, didn’t you?" Angel asked, her expression expectant.

Tryson nodded. "I did."

A soft breeze swept through the open space around them, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Angel shifted slightly before speaking again. "I wanted to explore the resort," she admitted, "but it didn’t feel right doing it without you."

Something flickered in Tryson’s eyes at her words, an emotion he didn’t voice. He simply nodded, acknowledging the sentiment before stepping closer.

"Angel," his voice dipped lower, carrying a hint of something unreadable, "there’s somewhere I want to take you."