Playing with Billionaire's Fire

Chapter 5: The Invitation

Donovan lay naked in her bed, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the plain wall. A thin sheet draped low across his hips, doing little to hide the reason her legs were still trembling.

“Have you ever thought about how your husband has the worst taste in everything—except for having you as a decoration in his boring life?” he suddenly asked.

Celine, brushing her hair at the vanity, caught his sinful reflection in the mirror but immediately withdrew her gaze.

The sight of him being shamelessly beautiful was enough to make her want to cross herself. Just one look, the urge to pray for forgiveness was already knocking at her heart.

“What kind of wall is that?” he mocked, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, gesturing toward the flat expanse of white.

Out of all the men she’d brushed shoulders with, Donovan was… one of a kind. Dangerous. Not just because he was reckless and shameless, but because his words could do to her what his hands did.

“Has your husband even heard of colors other than white? He made this place look like a f*****g hospital."

Releasing a slow breath, Celine rose to face him. “It’s getting dark,” she murmured, glancing toward the window where she could see the sun kissing the land. “I think you should go.”

Donovan’s gaze shifted to her, lips curling into a pout that was just a shade too deliberate. “Why do I feel like a stray cat stealing a fish from your table?”

“Because you are,” she retorted.

He laughed, it was low and sexy, until he tossed the blanket aside. Her throat tightened at the sight of holliness, heat rushing up her neck before she could stop it.

“Can you please get dressed?” she said, voice thinner than she liked.

“You’re blushing,” he teased, stepping in close and bracing his arms on either side of her. His eyes swept over her face with hunger that made her chest tighten. “I like it when you do that. It’s a sight for sore eyes.”

“And something’s poking me,” she muttered, pressing a palm to his chest and pushing, though her hands trembled from the effort.

He only pulled her closer, his warmth crowding her space and it made her feel both more alive or suffocated.

“Mr. Fordham, I’m serious.”

That earned a flat “Ouch” as he finally released her, one hand resting over his heart. “After everything we did in bed, I’m still Mr. Fordham to you?”

“Yes. And it will stay that way if you keep stalling. Take a shower and leave before someone catches you here.” Her fingers fidgeted at her side, betraying the tension she tried to hide.

“Who’s going to catch us? Your butler?” He gave a short, humorless snort. “You told me we can trust him, didn’t you? So why are you worrying so much? The only thing you need to worry about is him stealing me from you,” he chortled.

Wanting to beg him to just leave quietly, Celine’s pulse climbing with every second he stayed. She knew that he can give her a heart attack with his teasing.

"I don't want my husband to know that I'm cheating on him," she mumbled, her fingers were already knotting each other.

For a beat, Donovan’s grin faltered, something sharper flickering in his eyes before the charm slid back in place.

"So what if you're cheating on him? He did it first. It's even-Steven, sweet Celine." He hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face up, his gaze dragging over her swollen lips. "Dang it, you have the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen."

Her stomach twisted. Part panic, part those butterflies he kept setting loose inside her. Wilder than him.

"I want to take you with me," he murmured, his breath brushing her mouth before laying shallow, fleeting kisses that teased rather than claiming.

Her lips felt numb from what they shared earlier—until he sucked gently, his tongue sweeping over her. Another shiver shot through her, the tingling sensation raced along her nerves in a way that made her knees weaken.

"Ever been to Paris? I’ve got a place there. You can see the old tower from the balcony. Everything’s luxurious. I’ll buy you a beautiful dress then rip it off when I need you." His words rolled lazy and smooth, but his eyes burned hotter than his smile. "Or maybe Hawaii… Maldives… anywhere you want."

She caught her breath.

She wanted that. But the image of her husband’s eyes, dark with rage, slid into her mind like a an eclipse to Donovan's brightness.

"We’ll make love before the sun sets, and keep going until it rises again," Donovan murmured as his fingers trailed the length of her arms, treating her like a delicate flower. "I’ll make you feel like the only woman on earth. I’ll give you the finest jewelry to wear around your neck… damn, I’d kiss it every night."

Her eyes dipped as his hand slipped beneath her lingerie. Without thinking, she looped her arms around his neck, fingers clasping at the nape where his hair brushed her knuckles.

He pressed his mouth to her throat, inhaling her scent, dragging his lips up to her chin.

"And on your ears, the most glittering diamonds…" he kissed her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. "And a ring worth the world—but meaning less than you."

He caught her hand in his, lifting it to his lips. The kiss stayed for a moment, gentler than his words. But when he looked at her, his warm gaze faltered just a second of uncertainty before it returned.

"Tell me, Celine… if I asked, would you come with me?" He coaxed. "We could go where we can be us. Just you and me. Away from all this."

Her lips parted. "I…" The sound broke, air felt tighter.

"Yes?" His grip on her hand tightened, almost pleading as he anticipated for a specific answer she can't give.

"I can’t." She stepped back, her arms folding around herself. "And I wish not to see you here anymore."

Donovan nodded, too easily, like the conversation cost him nothing.

Too easy.

“Okay,” he muttered, the corners of his mouth still holding that smile.

“I don’t want this… I don’t want to live in false hope.” Her fingers fumbled for her wedding ring as a reminder that she should right the wrong. “Yes, you can give me pleasure, you can give me what I need, but… I’m married.”

“Sure.” His reply was simple, almost careless, as he reached for the clothes she’d neatly hung over the backrest.

He slid the shirt off the chair with his lazy movement, glancing at her from under his lashes.

“If that’s what you’re scared about, why not divorce him then? Find what makes you feel… you. And when it’s done, come back to me.” He leaned in, the heat of his breath brushing her skin. “I’ll give you not just a piece of heaven, but the whole damn thing.”

He winked before his hand came up tilting her chin and kissed her quickly before he turned away and vanished into the bathroom, leaving the faint scent of his cologne and the reek of their s*x in the air.

Suddenly, emotions drowned her.

The room felt heavier without him, but not in a way that comforted. Donovan walked through her life like nothing could touch him, like all of this was just another game.

And maybe… maybe she was just another sick joke to him.

The next day, Celine stayed in bed, curled under the covers, until Henley knocked on her door.

“Breakfast is ready, miss,” he said from the other side.

The sheets were cold now, but they still carried yesterday’s memory of hours spent with Donovan.

She remembered how her worries faded after he left quietly just as she had asked, only giving her a kiss before leaving.

Her thighs still ached a little, her lips still tingled, and it all reminded her of what she had done.

“Good morning, miss,” Henley greeted when she came to the dining table.

“Henley,” she said softly as she sat down. “Did Hector call?” She began filling her plate a little too much for her appetite.

“Yes, miss. He only asked how the house was and reminded us of our duties,” he said, passing her the salt before standing behind her chair.

Her hand paused for a moment.

Yesterday felt both right… and wrong in ways she couldn’t explain.

"I may have forgotten to mention to him that you had a visitor yesterday. I didn’t think it was something the mister needed to be told," he said, and she felt a quiet wave of relief. "But… if I may speak freely, Miss Celine, would you allow an old man to offer his honest thoughts?"

She slowly poured the salt. “Henley, you know I always listen to you.”

“Thank you, miss.”

He stepped where she could see him. His uniform was neat as always, only his pink tie changing pattern each day. His hair was clean and tidy, his face calm and kind.

"I understand my place in your life, and I’m fully aware of my role in this household. But, if I may be candid about your… undefined relationship with Mr. Fordham, I believe it would be in your best interest not to see him, miss."

Henley had been like a father to her since she was a child. His advice was always right.

But now, she had her own mind. She knew the truth and understood what was wrong.

“That was my plan,” she said quietly.

As tempting as Donovan’s promises were, she had to choose what was right.

This mistake had to stay buried. Deep enough to never be found again.

"And he left you a note before departing," he said, handing her a small scrap of paper torn from a notebook. "I’ll be in the study reviewing the household accounts, miss, if you need me."

She waited for Henley to leave before unfolding the paper. In a man’s handwriting, it read: “Paris. Midnight. Meet me at my place — Fordham.”