BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Ryan’s POV

The rage that fills me up even after apologizing to her is unexplainable. I can’t explain the tightness in my chest and the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I can’t even control my anger anymore as I grit my teeth while sitting down in front of the bar counter downstairs and drinking the combination of wine and whiskey in my glass cup.

I wish this never happened. I wish I never told her how I felt, then maybe this wouldn’t be happening.

She is still in love with him. He is her boyfriend. Or rather he was her boyfriend before I came along.

Perhaps, if she didn’t get to know about the betrothal, she would have accepted his apology and accepted him back.

I guess it’s not so easy to get rid of her first love. I guess she misses how he used to kiss her.

“Shit!” I voice out, slamming my fist on the counter and groaning in pain.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

I never saw this coming. I didn’t mean to be attracted but it just happened. I thought it wasn’t a bad thing to be attracted to her since she is my wife. I was even ready to ignore the rules we made guiding the silly contract we signed.

She still loves him and this thought is troubling.

Celina was right. I don’t know anything about Valerie and I am also suspecting that there is more to their break up.

How long have they been meeting up with each other? Where did they meet? Who took the pictures? Was it Celina or Fred himself?

They seem to be pretty close.

Taking a hold of another bottle of whiskey, I pour it inside the glass cup then stop when it’s halfway full, grab another bottle of wine and do the same.

I gulp it all down.

I slam the glass cup down and my head begins to spin.

I am drunk already but I am not satisfied yet. I am still thinking about her and that picture. I am still thinking about that kiss. I am thinking about how they look so good together.

Maybe I should just let her go to him. She should have told her she still loves him and it won’t be a big deal to let her go to him.

The sound of footsteps stops me from pouring more wine into the cup. I don’t turn to see who it is but I drop the bottle and hold my head between my hands.

“Ryan?” Her voice sounds so cool like she wasn’t the one who shouted at me a few hours ago, claiming to be innocent for kissing another man when she is married to me.

I do not raise my head. I don’t need her here. I don’t want to see her either. That dreadful feeling will come back and I don’t really like how pathetic I feel right now.

I guess this drink will help. I can think about her all I want tonight and then by tomorrow, I will pretend as if none of these happened.

“Ryan”, she calls, more loudly as she touches my hand to stop me from grabbing the wine bottle.

I try to free myself from her hold but she is set on not letting go.

Finally, I stare at her.

Whether her hair is down and packed up in a bun, she always looks beautiful. Whether she is mad or cool, she’s still beautiful.

Why does she have to be this beautiful?

“I’m sorry”, she apologizes immediately, her expression unreadable. “I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t mean to upset me.”

I was about to think about the real reason for her apology before she said the last statement.

Is she apologizing for kissing him or for shouting at me or for reminding me about our contract or for rejecting my feelings for her?

I do not respond and she arches a brow at me. I turn to grab the bottle again but her hand stops me.

“Ryan, did you hear me at all?” She asks. “I said I’m sorry. I didn’t meet up with Fred on purpose, we just bumped into each other by mistake and the jerk tried to kiss me…no, I mean he kissed me but I pushed him away. I don’t even know who the hell took that damn picture but it’s not what you think. I can’t possibly go back to my vomit. Fred doesn’t deserve that…”

“I. Didn’t. Ask. For. Any. Explanation.” I point it out carefully.

We both fall silent.

Why did she apologize? Did her Mother put her to this? I know Valerie has always been one hell of a proud woman but tonight, I saw how much pride she has.

She hates to apologize.

Since she has interrupted my lone moment and the beauty of my formulated whiskey-wine combination, I should go to bed. I am feeling dizzy already.

By tomorrow, everything will be back to normal.

Pushing the stool backward, I stand up and almost stumble to the floor but she grabs me before I can fall.

I yank my hand from her hold, I say. “Let go of me.”

“You are drunk”, she mentions as if I don’t know I am drunk. Of course, I know I am drunk. Getting drunk was the purpose of drinking. I need no reminder.

“Let go of me”, I repeat, moving away from her.

“Don’t be a douchebag and let me help you upstairs”, she snaps at me as she grabs my arm and slides it around her neck.

The dizziness sweeps over me again and I shut my eyes tightly as I allow her to help me upstairs and I try so hard to ignore how her body felt on mine.

The closeness.

It makes me feel so hot. Yet still dizzy.

When she gets to my room, she opens the door and I eventually open my eyes. I take my hand away from her shoulder and begin to walk to the bed myself.

“You can go to your room now”, I tell her before staggering towards the bed.

When I get there, I slump onto the bed and watch her with my eyes closing gradually as she stands peering at me with a sort of expression I can’t place.

I wish things were different. And I don’t have to feel this way.

I was careless. I should have been more careful about caring for her or even liking her. She doesn’t deserve it.

Henceforth, I don’t care.

Eventually, my eyes close on their accord. And sleep eludes me.