THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 52: How wild...

Chapter 52: How wild...

"I was planning on spending my honeymoon with you while you kept up the charade with that fool," Riley murmured, her voice laced with amusement.

She watched intently as Tryson’s hand moved toward his waist, his fingers grazing the leather of his belt.

A slow, dangerous smile curled on her lips, anticipation flickering in her eyes.

He unfastened the buckle with deliberate precision, the faint clink of metal breaking the tense silence between them.

Riley’s tongue flicked over her lips as he slid the belt free.

Then, with measured steps, he closed the distance between them, looping the belt around her neck. A sharp tug lifted her chin, forcing her to meet the intensity of his dark, unreadable gaze.

"How wild," Riley purred, a dark smile playing on her lips as her fingers brushed over his hand—the very one tightening the belt around her neck.

"So... is this what you do to her too?" she mused, her voice dripping with mischief.

A teasing click of her tongue followed as she watched Tryson’s gaze lower ever so slightly. The shift was subtle, but Riley caught it instantly.

And in that moment, she knew.

The gentle, soft-spoken Tryson—the façade he wore so well—was nowhere to be found.

Instead, the vixen she had always known, the one lurking beneath his carefully crafted mask, stared right back at her.

Tryson remained silent, his grip steady, his dark eyes searching—digging—for the answer he so desperately sought.

Riley could sense it, the way his mind worked, the way he dissected every flicker of her expression.

But she gave him nothing.

Nothing but a breathy moan of ecstasy as the belt tightened around her neck.

"Give me an answer," Tryson demanded, his voice hoarse, rough with impatience.

But Riley only smiled.

"And why?" she taunted, tilting her chin just slightly, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "So you can dismiss me like I mean nothing to you, Tryson? Just because you’ve secured a handful of my father’s assets, you think you don’t know exactly what it takes to make me talk?"

Her voice dropped, chilling, sharp as ice.

"There’s only one way, Tryson."

For the first time, she saw it—the flicker of hesitation in his gaze. Brief. Almost imperceptible. But it was there.

And then, with no other choice, she watched as Tryson loosened his grip, the belt slipping away from her neck.

A chuckle escaped her lips, low and amused, as disbelief settled in.

He wasn’t going to do it.

Tryson said nothing. Instead, he rose from his seat and turned away, putting distance between them.

"You’re not going to do it... are you?" Riley’s voice wavered between shock and something dangerously close to disappointment as she watched him walk away.

Her fingers tightened around the belt before she scoffed and tossed it carelessly onto the bed.

Rising to her feet, she strode after him.

"Tryson," she called, her voice rough, almost pleading.

She caught up to him, grasping his arm, pulling herself into his view.

And there it was—that flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He was struggling, fighting against what she had asked of him.

And for the first time, she wondered... would he break? Or would he walk away?

"Tryson, you can’t be serious," Riley scoffed, staring at him in utter disbelief. "You’re not going to beg me?"

But she could see it—written all over his face.

The hesitation. The struggle. The shift in him that she didn’t quite recognize.

What was happening to Tryson?

"You’re joking, right?" she snapped, her voice laced with frustration.

Tryson’s expression hardened. "You don’t get to have everything your way," he said coldly, his tone void of the warmth she was used to.

Then, without another glance, he turned, striding toward the door.

But just as his hand reached for the handle, he froze.

Because Riley’s words stopped him in his tracks.

"You know, no matter what you do, you won’t always be able to protect her like you have before, Tryson," Riley taunted, her voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "Trust me, he’s going to have her... and you’ll watch as she loses that child."

Her words sliced through him like a blade.

Tryson knew—at least by Angel’s claim—that the child belonged to Arthur. And yet, despite that fact, a sharp, unexpected pain twisted inside him, deeper than he wanted to admit.

For a moment, his grip tightened around the door handle, his body rigid. He should have walked away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned.

His gaze locked onto Riley with a piercing, unreadable intensity before he strode toward her, each step charged with something dark, something dangerous.

"What did you just say?" Tryson’s voice was low, dangerously dark, each word dripping with something ominous.

He stepped toward her, his presence radiating an intensity that sent a chill through the air. There was something different about him now—something raw, unhinged.

Riley’s breath hitched. She had seen many sides of Tryson before, but this... this was rare.

And she had awakened it.

The fury burning in his eyes made her instincts scream at her to retreat, and before she realized it, she was stepping backward, hesitant.

But when her gaze lifted to meet his, she forced a small smile onto her lips—a feeble attempt to mask the sudden thrill of fear curling inside her.

"Tryson," Riley called out, her voice trembling with a rare trace of fear.

Before she could react, her back slammed against the cold wall, the impact stealing the breath from her lungs. A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she lifted her gaze, locking eyes with Tryson.

He stood before her, his presence dark, consuming. His stare burned into her, fierce and unreadable.

And then—

"Don’t you ever say those words again," he growled, his voice low, dangerously firm.

Before she could respond, before she could even process the weight of his warning—his lips crashed against hers.

It was sudden. Unrelenting. A collision of anger and desire.

And in the next moment, he was devouring her—his kiss rough, possessive, as if claiming what was already his.