THE BILLIONAIRE STILL WANTS HER!
Chapter 97: Samson’s torment

Chapter 97: Samson’s torment

"Oh really, big bro? So what—you actually expect me to kiss your woman?" Samson shot back, his voice a mixture of disbelief and irritation.

At that, Tryson’s expression darkened, his fingers tightening slightly around the phone. A cold, dangerous silence stretched between them.

"What did you just say?" Tryson asked, his voice sharp with disbelief.

His grip tightened around the phone as his jaw clenched, his pulse quickening at Samson’s words.

"Yes, Tryson. And besides, I told you from the very beginning that I didn’t want to do this. But you were too insistent." Samson’s tone carried both frustration and resignation. "I warned you that I wasn’t the right person for this job, but you pushed me into it anyway. And now, I can’t help but wonder—do you also kiss so casually that she thinks it’s just another game, another moment of fun?"

Tryson’s expression darkened.

For a brief moment, he lowered his head, massaging his forehead as he exhaled sharply. When he spoke, his voice was controlled but firm.

"You know I never meddle in your love life, so let’s not make this personal." His tone was deceptively light, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "And listen, Samson, I don’t ever want to see your lips anywhere near my woman. Find your own, or you might end up regretting it the second I find out you even tried."

Samson scoffed, shaking his head. "You think I’d actually kiss a woman like her, Tryson? Please. I’m only doing this because you asked me to. And now, I’m stuck figuring out how to walk away without raising suspicion or setting her off."

Tryson exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You know what? Just come out of the suite. I’ll be there as soon as you step out, and you can make an excuse to leave." His voice softened, but the tension between them lingered.

Before Samson could respond, a knock echoed against the door, followed by a voice that made his entire body stiffen.

"Tryson."

Angel’s voice carried through the room, and in an instant, Samson jerked upright, as if he’d just heard the call of some nightmarish creature.

"Tryson, why are you taking so long in the bathroom? It’s getting late."

Angel’s voice filtered through the phone, her tone laced with impatience.

Tryson couldn’t help but scoff, shaking his head at Samson’s sheer cowardice.

So much for handling things smoothly.

Angel clearly wasn’t making it easy for Samson to slip away.

"Bro, did you hear that? Come as fast as you can—I’m suffering in here!" Samson whispered urgently before ending the call without another word.

Tryson stared at the now-dead screen, exhaling sharply before turning his gaze toward the tinted window. As he looked out, a nagging thought settled in his mind.

What exactly was Arthur plotting?

If Arthur had resorted to using a pawn like Luca, then perhaps there was far more to this scheme than it seemed.

Meanwhile, back inside the suite, Samson shoved his phone into his pocket and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what was next.

"You’ve got this. Just trust the process, Sam," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to exude confidence.

Gathering his resolve, he stepped toward the bathroom door and swung it open.

His gaze immediately dropped as he caught sight of Angel standing there, arms crossed, waiting for him.

A smirk played on her lips as she raised an eyebrow. "Don’t tell me you were trying to give birth in there."

Her teasing tone was light, but there was something sharp beneath it—something calculated.

She stepped forward, deliberately closing the space between them, her eyes scrutinizing him closely. It was clear she wasn’t going to let this slide easily.

Did she suspect something?

Samson swallowed hard, doing his best to stay composed. This was about to get a whole lot trickier.

In the meanwhile, Angel thought if it really was Samson standing before her, then he was nothing more than a guest—one about to experience something he’d rather not get tangled up in.

And beyond that, Angel had unfinished business with him.

The thought of repaying him for what he had done two months ago—the humiliation he had put her through—lingered in her mind.

She wasn’t one to let things slide so easily. But more than revenge, she hoped that, somehow, he would uncover the truth behind everything.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Angel closed the distance between them. Without hesitation, she reached for his waist, wrapping her arms around him in an intimate embrace.

Samson jolted as if he had been struck by lightning, his entire body going rigid.

What the—?!

Angel bit back a laugh, delighting in the way he practically recoiled. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, and it was almost too amusing to watch.

"You’re not thinking of running away, are you?" she teased, her voice laced with playful suspicion. "Because you look a little... uneasy. And if I’m not mistaken, a bit sweaty too."

Samson forced a nervous smile, his pulse racing.

Damn it. He needed to get out of this—fast.

But the real question was, would she let him?

"Am I sweating?" Samson asked, raising a hand to his forehead and quickly wiping it.

"Must not have noticed," he muttered, forcing a casual chuckle. "It’s probably just from being in the bathroom too long. I think the AC in there wasn’t working properly."

He tried to sound convincing, but the slight hitch in his voice gave him away.

Angel, however, wasn’t buying it.

Instead, she smiled—a slow, knowing grin that made Samson even more uneasy.

Oh, he was definitely uncomfortable, and she was enjoying every second of it.

"Oh? Then you know what?" she mused, tilting her head mischievously. "I want you to taste the gloss of my lipstick. I think it’s really good."

Without hesitation, she moved toward him again, closing the space between them. But just as she reached for him—

"Get off me, you rascal!"

Samson’s outburst was sharp, his body jerking back in sheer panic.

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