The Billionaire She Couldn't Forget

Isabella

I clinked my champagne flute against Megan's, the bubbles fizzing over our shared triumph. After three years of late nights and impossible clients, the promotion to senior designer had finally come through.

"To Isabella Carter, the new queen of Carter & Associates!" Megan shouted over the thumping bass of whatever pop hit was blaring through the pub speakers.

"It's Winston & Associates, you lightweight," I laughed, steadying her as she wobbled in her heels. "I haven't taken over the company... yet."

The Twisted Oak was packed with my colleagues, all several drinks deep into celebrating my success. I'd chosen my emerald wrap dress carefully-sophisticated enough for work but with just enough flair for the after-party. The silky fabric clung to my curves without being obvious, and the lacy black bra and matching thong underneath made me feel confident, even if no one else knew about them.

"Dance floor! Now!" Megan grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the area where several of our coworkers were already making fools of themselves.

I let the rhythm take over, enjoying the freedom of movement after weeks hunched over design plans.

My colleagues formed a circle around me, cheering as I spun and swayed. The promotion energy and three glasses of champagne had me feeling invincible.

I ran my fingers through my hair, letting it cascade down my shoulders as I closed my eyes and surrendered to the music.

"Mind if I cut in?"

A deep voice broke through the thumping bass. I opened my eyes to find Lucas Hamilton standing before me, his six-foot-two frame impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit that hugged his broad shoulders. My breath caught in my throat. I recognized him instantly – the billionaire whose Malibu mansion I'd redesigned last month.

"Mr. Hamilton," I said, trying to sound professional despite my flushed cheeks. "What brings you to The Twisted Oak? This hardly seems like your scene."

His lips curved into a smile that probably melted most women on the spot. "Business dinner nearby. Heard the music and decided to stop in." His eyes held mine. "Congratulations on your promotion, Ms. Carter."

I raised an eyebrow. "How did you know about that?"

"I make it my business to keep tabs on talented people." He extended his hand. "May I?"

My colleagues had already backed away, creating space for us. I placed my hand in his, feeling a jolt of electricity at his touch.

"Just one dance," I said, more to myself than to him.

Lucas pulled me closer than professional courtesy would dictate, his hand resting firmly on the small of my back. He moved with surprising grace for such a powerful man, guiding me effortlessly across the floor.

"Your design revisions exceeded expectations," he said, his breath warm against my ear. "The eastern wing looks spectacular at sunset."

I laughed. "Are we really discussing work while dancing?"

"Would you prefer I comment on how stunning you look in that dress? Because that might cross professional boundaries."

Heat crawled up my neck. "Professional boundaries are important."

He spun me around and then pulled me back against his chest. "Where's your boyfriend tonight? Shouldn't he be celebrating with you?"

I stiffened slightly. "How do you know I have a boyfriend?"

"The photo on your desk during our meetings. You two looked happy."

"Alex is working late," I said, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"So he left you alone in a pub, looking like this?" Lucas gestured to my dress with his eyes. "Brave man."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means people will approach you." His hand pressed slightly firmer against my back. "Case in point."

I pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. "People like you? I've heard about your reputation."

"Have you now?" His eyebrow arched in amusement.

"The tabloids love documenting your... social activities. A different woman every weekend. The Hamilton Heartbreaker, they call you."

Lucas laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "And you believe everything you read?"

"Where there's smoke..." I let the phrase hang between us.

"Those are just rumors," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Perhaps I haven't found someone worth staying for."

The music shifted to something slower, more intimate. I knew I should step away, but my body betrayed me, melting further into his embrace.

"You're very good at this," I murmured.

"Dancing?"

"No. Making women feel like they're the only person in the room."

His eyes darkened. "I'm not looking at anyone else, Ms. Carter."

My heart hammered against my ribs. This was dangerous territory. I had Alex. A three-year relationship. Stability. Plans for the future. Yet here I was, pressed against Lucas Hamilton, feeling more alive than I had in months.

"I should get back to my friends," I said but made no move to leave his arms.

"Should you?" His thumb traced small circles on my back, each one sending shivers up my spine.

"This isn't appropriate."

"What isn't? Dancing? Conversation?"

"The way you're looking at me."

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "How am I looking at you?"

"Like you're undressing me with your eyes."

"I assure you, Ms. Carter. If I were undressing you, it wouldn't be with my eyes."

My breath hitched. The music ended, leaving us standing still while other dancers moved around us.

"I should go," I said, finally finding the willpower to step back.

Lucas released me but caught my hand before I could walk away. "Isabella."

It was the first time he'd used my first name. It sounded different on his lips – intimate, almost like a caress.

"Yes?"

"If we're meant to see each other again, we will." He lifted my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles, his eyes never leaving mine. "The universe has a funny way of connecting people who should be in each other's lives."

I withdrew my hand slowly. "I don't believe in destiny, Mr. Hamilton."

"You don't have to believe in something for it to be true."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me breathless in the middle of the dance floor, my skin still tingling where he'd touched me.

Megan appeared at my side, her eyes wide. "Was that Lucas Hamilton? The Lucas Hamilton?"

I nodded, watching his retreating figure until he disappeared into the crowd.

"Holy shit, Izzy! What did he want?"

What did he want? The question echoed in my mind as I touched the spot where his lips had been on my hand.

"Just a dance," I said, but even I didn't believe it.

Isabella

I stepped into Alex's penthouse. After Lucas left, the celebration had gone on for another hour, and I'd knocked back two more glasses of champagne to calm my nerves.

I kicked off my heels at the door, my feet aching from dancing.

He'd texted earlier saying he'd be working late at the office, and it was something about quarterly reports.

To my surprise, the kitchen light was on. I padded across the polished hardwood floor and found Alex standing at the counter, pouring what looked like a chocolate milkshake into a single glass. He was still in his work clothes: charcoal slacks and a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, but his tie was loosened.

"Hey! You're home," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "I thought you were stuck at work."

Alex's head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly. "Isabella! I... finished early." He set the blender down, his movements a little too careful. "Didn't expect you back yet."

"Well, surprise!" I grinned, crossing the kitchen to wrap my arms around his waist. "Guess what? I got the promotion!"

"That's great, babe." He kissed the top of my head, his body relaxing against mine. "Senior designer, right? Congratulations."

"Thanks. We were celebrating at The Twisted Oak." I glanced at the milkshake. "That looks good. Pour me some?"

"Uh, this is the last of the ice cream. I can make you something else?"

"No, it's fine." I waved him off, moving to the fridge to grab a water bottle instead. "You have it."

Alex picked up the glass and took a long sip, watching me over the rim. His eyes traveled down my body, lingering on the way my emerald dress hugged my curves.

"You look fucking hot," he said, setting the glass down. "Did you wear that to work?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling the heat of his gaze. "For the celebration after."

He moved toward me, his hands finding my waist. "Must've had every guy at the bar drooling."

If only he knew about Lucas Hamilton. The memory of his touch sent an unexpected shiver through me. I pushed the thought away and focused on Alex, my boyfriend of three years.

"Maybe," I teased, pressing my body against his. "But I came home to you."

Alex's eyes darkened as he slid his hands down to cup my ass through the silky fabric of my dress. The champagne had left me buzzing, my skin hypersensitive to his touch.

"Damn right you did," he growled, his mouth finding mine in a hungry kiss.

I moaned against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck as he backed me against the refrigerator. His tongue pushed into my mouth, tasting faintly of chocolate and something else I couldn't place.

"Someone missed me," I whispered, nipping at his bottom lip.

His hands found the tie of my wrap dress, tugging it loose with practiced ease. "You have no fucking idea."

The dress fell open, revealing my black lace bra and matching thong. Alex's breath hitched as he took in the sight of me.

"Fuck, Izzy," he muttered, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts. "Were you wearing this all night?"

I arched into his touch, my nipples hardening beneath the lace. "Maybe I was."

He pinched my nipples through the fabric, making me gasp. "You little tease."

Before I could respond, he hoisted me up, his hands gripping my thighs as he carried me to the kitchen island. The cold marble against my heated skin made me shiver as he set me down, pushing my dress off my shoulders.

"Alex," I panted as he unhooked my bra with one hand, tossing it aside. "What's gotten into you?"

He didn't answer, just lowered his head to take my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. My hands flew to his hair, holding him against me as he lavished attention on my breasts, alternating between gentle licks and sharp nips.

"God, I love your tits," he murmured against my skin, his stubble scratching deliciously. "Perfect fucking handfuls."

His hand slid between my legs, pushing my thong aside to stroke my already wet pussy. I bucked against his touch, desperate for more friction.

"So wet already," he said, sliding a finger inside me. "Is this all for me?"

"Yes," I gasped as he added a second finger, curling them to hit that spot that made me see stars. "Only you."

He worked me with his fingers, his thumb circling my clit until I was trembling on the edge. Just as I was about to come, he withdrew his hand, leaving me whimpering.

"Not yet," he said, fumbling with his belt. "I need to be inside you."

I watched, breathing heavily, as he shoved his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a condom.

"You came prepared," I said, raising an eyebrow.

He tore the packet open with his teeth. "Always ready for you, babe."

Once he'd rolled the condom on, he positioned himself at my entrance, teasing me with just the tip. I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer.

"Please," I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside me, stretching me in the most delicious way. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he groaned, setting a punishing pace. "So tight around my cock."

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of our ragged breathing and skin slapping against skin. I clung to him, meeting each thrust as he pounded into me, the edge of the counter digging into my ass.

"I'm close," I panted, feeling the tension building. "Don't stop."

Just as I was about to tip over the edge, a shrill ringing cut through our moans. Alex froze mid-thrust, his head whipping toward the living room.

"Ignore it," I pleaded, trying to rock against him.

He hesitated, still buried inside me. The phone continued ringing.

"Shit," he muttered, pulling out and leaving me empty and aching. "I have to take this."

I watched in disbelief as he tucked himself back into his pants and hurried to the living room, his cock still hard and straining against the fabric. I pulled my dress closed, suddenly feeling exposed and frustrated.

Alex grabbed his phone from the coffee table, and his back was to me as he answered. "Hello?"

His voice dropped to a whisper. I strained to hear, sliding off the counter on shaky legs.

"I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes," he said before hanging up.

When he turned back to me, his expression had changed completely. The desire was gone, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

"I have to go," he said, not quite meeting my eyes. "Client emergency."

"At midnight?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Big deal on the line." He was already grabbing his jacket. "I'm sorry, babe. I'll make it up to you."

I watched him straighten his tie, my body still humming with unfulfilled need. "This is the third time this week, Alex."

"I know, I know. I won't be long," he promised, already heading for the door.

After he left, I stood alone in our kitchen, my dress half-open, my pussy still wet and aching.

I picked up my bra from the floor, a sick feeling settling in my gut. Was I really that stupid? The late nights, the mysterious phone calls...

Isabella

I stared at the door Alex had just disappeared through, a hollow feeling spreading in my chest. My body was still humming with need, but my mind raced with suspicion. Who the hell has a client emergency at midnight? And why did he look so guilty?

I considered going back to my apartment, but exhaustion washed over me. The champagne buzz had faded, leaving me with a dull headache and the beginnings of what promised to be a nasty hangover.

"Fuck it," I muttered, heading to the bedroom.

I stripped off my dress, letting it pool at my feet before rummaging through the drawer Alex had cleared for me. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts, then went to the bathroom to wash off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her lipstick smudged and mascara slightly smeared under her eyes.

After brushing my teeth with the spare toothbrush I kept there, I crawled into Alex's king-sized bed. The sheets smelled like his cologne, a scent that usually comforted me. Tonight, it just made me feel lonely.

I tried to stay awake and confront him when he returned, but my eyelids grew heavy. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was checking the clock: 1:23 AM.

Sunlight streamed through the half-open blinds, hitting me directly in the face. I groaned, rolling over to escape the brightness. My hand bumped against something warm and solid.

Alex.

He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow, his face peaceful in sleep. His dark hair was messy, stubble darkening his jaw. I checked the time: 7:47 AM.

I watched him for a moment, trying to reconcile the man sleeping beside me with the one who'd rushed out in the middle of sex last night. He looked so innocent now, his lips slightly parted, his breathing deep and even.

As if sensing my gaze, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, focusing on my face.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "What time did you get in?"

He rubbed his eyes, rolling onto his back. "Around three, I think. You were already knocked out. Didn't want to wake you."

"That was considerate of you," I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Either he didn't notice or chose to ignore it. He stretched, the sheet slipping down to reveal his bare chest. "Sorry about last night. That client is a real pain in the ass."

"It's alright," I lied, sitting up against the headboard. "How'd the work go?"

"Finished just in time." He yawned. "Crisis averted."

"Great." I forced a smile. "I'm going to make coffee."

I slipped out of bed before he could pull me back in, padding to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. As the rich aroma filled the apartment, I leaned against the counter, trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts.

Was I being paranoid? Alex had always been ambitious, always putting work first. It was one of the things that had initially attracted me to him-his drive and determination. Lately, these "emergencies" have become more frequent, always pulling him away at odd hours.

The coffee maker beeped, jolting me from my thoughts. I poured two mugs, adding a splash of cream to mine and leaving his black.

***

The weekend rolled around faster than expected. After a busy week at the office, I was looking forward to some downtime with Alex.

I sat at the kitchen island, sipping my coffee and scrolling through Instagram. Sunlight bathed the open-concept space, highlighting the expensive finishes of his penthouse. Sometimes, I still couldn't believe I was dating a guy who lived in a place like this.

Alex wandered in, his hair still tousled from sleep. He was wearing only gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

"Morning, beautiful," he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

I glanced up from my phone, appreciating the view. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

"Like a fucking rock." He leaned against the counter, taking a long sip. "What do you want to do today? We could hit that new brunch spot on Melrose."

"Sounds perfect. I've been dying to try their avocado toast."

"Basic," he teased, nudging my foot with his.

His phone buzzed on the counter. He checked the screen and frowned slightly.

"Mark," he muttered before answering. "Hey, what's up?"

I returned to my Instagram scrolling, half-listening to his conversation.

"Today? Seriously?" Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Yeah, I can meet you in an hour... No, the usual spot... Yeah, I'll bring the files."

He hung up, shooting me an apologetic look.

"Work stuff?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, Mark needs to go over the proposal before Monday's meeting." He came around the island and wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing a kiss to my neck. "Two hours, tops. Then I'm all yours for the rest of the weekend."

I leaned back against his chest. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart." His hands slid up to cup my breasts through my thin tank top. "And when I get back, we can pick up where we left off the other night."

Heat pooled between my legs at the memory.

He squeezed my nipples lightly before releasing me. "I'm gonna shower."

"Need company?" I offered.

"As tempting as that is, I'd never make it to the meeting." He winked, heading toward the bathroom.

I finished my coffee, listening to the shower running. His phone pinged on the counter. I ignored it. Then it pinged again. And again.

Three messages in a row? My stomach tightened. I glanced toward the bathroom door, hearing Alex humming some pop song.

It was wrong to look. Completely wrong.

The phone pinged a fourth time.

Fuck it.

I picked up his phone, expecting to see Mark's name. Instead, the screen showed three promotional texts from his cell provider and one from DoorDash about weekend specials.

"Jesus, Izzy," I muttered to myself. "Get a grip."

I was about to put the phone down when I noticed Sarah's name sandwiched between the other chats.

Sarah?

My thumb hovered over the screen. This was a violation of trust.

I tapped the notification.

The message thread opened, and my blood turned to ice.

Sarah: Last night was fucking incredible. Still feeling you inside me

Sarah: Can't wait to ride that huge cock again

Alex: Your pussy felt amazing wrapped around me. Next time I want to bend you over and fuck that tight ass

Sarah: Yes, please. My nipples get hard just thinking about it

Sarah: Miss you already, babe. When can I see you again?

The phone nearly slipped from my hand. My heart hammered against my ribs. Who the fuck was Sarah? And why was she calling my boyfriend "babe"?