Mr Billionaire's Dangerous Love

Butterflies. That fluttering sensation in your stomach. Most people associate it with love, excitement, or the thrill of the unknown. For me, it's more complicated. Sure, I feel them when I'm dancing with my best friend at a club or acing a tough project at work. But today, there are no butterflies.

Today, my stomach feels like lead, sinking deeper with every word my mother says.

"We know this is a lot to process, Sophia , but it's for the best," she says, her perfectly manicured nails tapping nervously on the arm of the leather couch.

My father, usually a silent observer in family drama, looks worse than usual. His gaunt face, framed by graying hair, makes him seem like a ghost of the man I grew up admiring. He's hunched over in his chair, gripping a whiskey glass like it's the only thing tethering him to reality.

"'For the best?'" I echo, my voice sharper than I intend. "You want me to marry some stranger to save your failing business? Are we in the 1800s?"

My mother's lips thin into a line. "Sophia , we're not asking you to fall in love with him tomorrow. Just meet him. His family is willing to invest in your father's company, but this alliance is... conditional."

There it is. The ugly truth. Conditional.

My father finally speaks, his voice raspy and weak. "Princess, the Lorenzos are powerful. Their son, Dante, is a good man. This could secure not just the business, but your future."

I stand abruptly, nearly knocking over the coffee table. "Secure my future? By selling me off like some pawn in a chess game? I have a boyfriend, Dad!"

"Liam ," my mother says, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "The same Liam who's been cheating on you? The one you keep taking back like a fool?"

That lands like a slap. My vision blurs with anger, and my cheeks flush hot. "How do you even know about that?"

"Because everyone knows, Sophia !" she snaps, rising to her feet. Her tone is sharper now, her composure cracking. "Do you think Clara hasn't told me about the countless times she's seen him with other women? And yet, you cling to him like he's your savior."

Clara.

The name twists like a knife in my gut. My best friend. The one person I've confided in about everything, including Liam 's betrayals.

"Don't drag Clara into this," I warn, though my voice wavers.

"Oh, sweetheart," my mother says, her voice dripping with mock pity. "You really are naïve, aren't you?" She crosses her arms, her eyes glinting with something I can't quite place. "Do you want to know who Liam was with last weekend? At the hotel? It wasn't just any woman."

I freeze. The room seems to tilt.

"What are you talking about?" I demand.

She hesitates, then delivers the blow. "It was Clara."

The air is sucked out of the room. My knees threaten to give way, but I steady myself by gripping the back of the sofa. Clara? My *best friend*?

"No," I whisper, shaking my head. "You're lying."

"Am I?" She pulls out her phone and taps the screen a few times before handing it to me. There, staring back at me, is a blurry but unmistakable photo of Liam and Clara, locked in a passionate embrace outside a hotel.

It feels like the ground beneath me has shattered.

My mother takes the phone back and places a hand on my shoulder. "You're worth more than this, Val. Dante is a billionaire. A good man. He'll treat you like a queen, not some option he can discard when something shinier comes along."

I can't hear her anymore. My mind is racing. Liam and Clara? How long has this been going on? Was every kind word, every laugh we shared, a lie?

"I need air," I mutter, heading for the door.

"Sophia , this isn't going away," my mother calls after me. "You're meeting Dante tomorrow. Like it or not, this is happening!"

I don't respond. I slam the door behind me and walk down the dimly lit street, the cold November air biting at my skin.

Liam . Clara. And now Dante, this mystery billionaire I'm apparently destined to marry. My life feels like it's spiraling out of control, and I have no idea how to stop it.

One thing is clear, though. Tomorrow, I'll be meeting Dante . Not because I want to, but because I need to know what kind of man would agree to something this absurd.

But deep down, a tiny voice whispers that meeting him might not be the worst thing in the world.

And that terrifies me most of all.

Sophia's POV

I can't stop the whirlwind of emotions spinning through my mind tonight. Yet, despite the turmoil, a small smile creeps onto my face at the thought of seeing Liam.

Hugging my jacket closer, I step out of the car and walk toward his apartment. As my heels click against the pavement, I wonder-does my mother oppose my relationship with Liam because he isn't as wealthy as the man she's arranged for me to marry? Or is it because Liam has betrayed me before?

Twice.

If Clara hadn't caught Liam's eye, maybe he wouldn't have cheated on me again. But Dante is nothing more than a scheming vulture, and I'm determined to prove it.

Liam and I love each other. At least, I thought we did. He used to be so passionate, so tender. The love I'd been starved of at home, ever since my family's status began to crumble, Liam managed to rekindle in me. He made me believe in something real.

When I thought he'd tire of me, he didn't. He kept coming back. He kept fighting for us. So how could I give up now? Isn't that what Dante wants? For me to walk away, so she can have him all to herself?

No. Liam is mine.

The night feels eerily quiet as I approach his door. The silence reminds me of how long I spent at the club, lost in thought, before deciding to come here. I'd hoped Liam would meet me there, but he didn't. I didn't even drink because I knew I'd want to drive straight to his place if he didn't show up.

I need him. I need someone to talk to.

If he hadn't cheated on me with Dante, maybe she would have been that person. But now, Clara is nothing but a traitor. I used to miss her friendship, but forgiveness isn't on the table anymore.

I've been away from home since noon, ever since my mother dropped the bombshell of my engagement. She expected me to leap with joy at the prospect of marrying some billionaire stranger. Instead, I left the house, furious.

How could she think I'd celebrate such news? I'm not a child. I'm a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions.

I step onto the porch and knock on Liam's door, pulling my hand from my jacket. The chill in the air creeps in as I wait.

No answer.

Maybe he's still out. But it's already 11 p.m., hours after he usually finishes work. I'd waited for him at the club until after 10. Where could he be?

I knock again, louder this time, but the silence persists. Frustration bubbles up. Grabbing my phone, I call him. The ringing goes unanswered.

Anger flares inside me. I pound on the door with renewed force, ready to demand answers. Suddenly, it swings open.

"Where the hell have you been?" I start to shout, but he cuts me off.

"Hey, babe," Liam says, shirtless, pulling me into a quick hug.

Suspicion prickles at the back of my mind. He'd ignored my knocking for minutes, but after my call, here he is-shirtless and acting nonchalant. Something isn't right.

"Liam?" I say, my voice steady but wary. He leans against the doorframe, blocking my way inside. His avoidance of my gaze sets off every alarm in my head.

"What are you doing here?" he asks with a forced smile. "I was just about to call you."

My arms cross instinctively over my chest as dread pools in my stomach. I push past him into the apartment, ignoring his protests.

The sight of the scattered clothing on the floor stops me cold. Dresses, heels-items that aren't mine-are strewn across the living room. My eyes dart to the staircase, the path leading to the bedroom we'd shared so many times before.

"Liam," I whisper, disbelief choking my voice.

"Wait! Sophia, it's not what you think!" He rushes to stand in front of me, his hands raised in defense.

Not what I think? The anger I've been holding back boils over.

"You call this a misunderstanding?" I shout, shoving him backward. He stumbles onto the sofa. "What the hell do you take me for?!"

I grab the foreign clothing from the floor, throwing each piece at him with every ounce of rage I can muster. This wasn't supposed to be how tonight went. I was supposed to find comfort in his arms, to feel safe. Instead, I've uncovered yet another betrayal.

Liam dodges a pair of heels I hurl at him, but my fury won't be stopped. I'm shaking with anger and heartbreak when a figure appears at the top of the stairs.

No.

Not her.

"Hello, Sophia," a familiar voice says.

I turn, and there she is Clara. Smiling, triumphant, like she's won some kind of prize.

Tears blur my vision as I glance back at Liam. He doesn't meet my eyes. The shame written all over his face tells me everything I need to know.

I chose the wrong man. I wasted my time fighting for someone who wasn't willing to fight for me.

Without a word, I grab my phone from the table and storm out of the apartment. As I step into the cold night, one thought burns in my mind.

If they think they've broken me, they're wrong. I'll meet this so-called billionaire. And I'll show Liam and Clara exactly what it means to mess with me.

Dante's POV

Five minutes have passed already.

Tardiness is one of the things I despise the most. It grates on my nerves.

If I wait another five minutes and she doesn't show, I'm leaving. This time could've been spent on work-productive, meaningful work-instead of sitting here like an idiot.

I steal one more glance at the restaurant door where I've been waiting for nearly ten minutes. A heavy sigh escapes me as my thoughts spiral back to the chain of events leading to this ridiculous meeting.

At first, I thought it was some kind of joke. Learning about the betrothal and the stipulation that I must marry to inherit my grandfather's construction company? It felt like some kind of cruel prank.

That old man knew me too well. He knew I'd never willingly get married, so he rigged the system against me. My father, of course, had been conveniently silent about this little arrangement until now. That betrayal still stings.

And yet, no one forced me to be here. I chose to come, perhaps out of curiosity-perhaps to see the woman my grandfather deemed worthy enough to tie me down.

Even though I hate the idea of an arranged marriage, I know I need her. My mother's enthusiastic praise about her character and charm had been non-stop. "She's a good girl," she'd said, smiling like she'd already won.

Fine, then. Marriage doesn't have to be about love. My parents weren't in love when they got married, and they seem just fine. I could make this work too. Or at least, that's what I'd been telling myself for the past week.

But the longer I sit here in this empty, silent restaurant, the more irritated I become. And the more irritated I become, the less I want anything to do with this entire charade.

If this is some ploy to force me into marriage, they'll regret it. I can find someone else-anyone else-to marry and still fulfill the conditions of my inheritance. I don't need some spoiled, self-absorbed brat who can't even be bothered to show up on time.

Spoiled and inconsiderate. That's exactly what she must be. I already hate her attitude, and we haven't even met.

What's the point of all this anyway? Why should my inheritance hinge on some outdated tradition? I could pick one of the many women already vying for my attention. This entire situation is complete and utter nonsense.

My patience snaps. Rising abruptly, I grab my phone, ready to leave. But just as I turn toward the exit, the restaurant's glass door swings open, held by the doorman. A woman steps inside.

Ridiculous isn't even the word for her appearance.

This... this can't be her.

My mother described her as sophisticated and beautiful, leading me to assume she'd be another pampered princess. But this?

A matching tracksuit?

I blink in disbelief as she approaches. Who wears a tracksuit to meet the man they're about to marry?

Everything about her is wrong. Her accessories, her makeup-it all looks absurd. She isn't beautiful; she looks like a clown.

Am I actually expected to marry this?

My fists clench, and I swallow the urge to storm out. This is insane. My grandfather's impeccable judgment must have failed him on this one.

"Hi," she says, giving me a shy wave as she draws closer.

Her voice snaps me out of my stunned silence, but my anger only flares hotter.

I glare at her, my expression undoubtedly giving away my feelings. She doesn't even flinch, which only convinces me this must be intentional.

She's not here to impress me. She's here to make a statement. This is her way of rebelling against her parents and me.

Finally finding my voice, I growl, "What the hell is this?"

Her shy smile fades, replaced by something more confident-defiant, even.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, feigning innocence.

She knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Instead of unleashing my fury, I force myself to sit back down. My jaw tightens as I fight to stay calm. This is bigger than my irritation.

I need her.

My mother approves of her. My father will never go against my grandfather's wishes, even if the old man has been gone for years. This marriage is non-negotiable for them.

No matter how much I hate it, I have no choice.

This girl-this childish girl in a tracksuit-is the key to securing my inheritance.

I shake my head, trying to suppress my growing frustration. But it's impossible. Her lateness and lack of effort are infuriating. Does she have no pride?

Before I can make sense of her absurd behavior, she sits across from me with a forced smile plastered on her face.

"Hi, I'm Sophia Adams," she says, extending her hand in greeting. Her tiny purse clatters onto the table between us.

My eyes don't leave her face. If this were anyone else-my sister, for example-I'd probably laugh. But this isn't funny. This is the woman I'm supposed to marry.

Her smile wavers slightly when I don't take her hand. She drops it back to her side, the disappointment on her face just as fake as everything else about her.