Owned By The Billionaire Devil

Chapter 3

Still, his masked face gave nothing away. It was a complete mystery, hiding any reaction he might have had. Before he could decide to give me an answer, I took matters into my own hands. Acting on a wild impulse, I clenched my hand into a fist and grabbed the front of his shirt. I pulled him down toward me and crushed my lips against his in a sudden, desperate kiss.

He didn’t resist.

For one single moment, he was completely still and passive against me. Then, everything changed.

He responded.

But this wasn't just a kiss. It felt like a reclamation… like he was taking something back.

His mouth moved over mine with a skilled and devastating hunger that instantly stole the breath from my lungs.

It was nothing at all like Alistair’s calm, polite, and gentle kisses. This was deep, consuming, and utterly ruthless. One of his hands tangled firmly in my hair, not to cradle my head lovingly, but to hold me exactly in place. His other arm wrapped like a steel band around my waist, pulling me tight against him. The possessiveness in his grip felt less like simple desire and more like a declaration of ownership.

"What if he was someone dangerous? Isn't this putting myself in danger?"

Even with these thoughts, I didn't want him to stop.

When he finally broke the kiss, I was left gasping for air. He didn’t speak a word. In one smooth, fluid motion, he stood up, lifting me effortlessly off my feet as if I weighed nothing. I didn’t protest. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck, my lips finding his once more. He carried me through a private door, down a quiet, hushed hallway, and into a tastefully decorated bedroom.

The moment he placed me on the edge of the large bed, I reached for him again, pulling him closer and connecting our lips in another kiss, this one full of desperate longing.

"Make me forget him," I whispered, the words breathed into the kiss itself.

He pulled back just enough to stare down at my face, his eyes dark and intense behind the mask. His voice was low and certain.

“I won’t just help you forget,” he said. “I’ll make sure that even when you go back to him, when you kiss him and pretend tonight never happened… my taste would forever linger in your mouth.” He paused. “I’ll become something you can’t erase.”

Before I could read meaning into his words, he claimed my lips again, more fiercely this time. His hand traced a slow, deliberate path up my thigh, slipping between my legs. I shivered. Even in my foggy, drunk state, a quiet voice in my mind whispered that this was wrong.

I didn’t even know this man…

But the moment my mind tried to picture Alistair, I flinched and stopped kissing the stranger.

I pushed him back onto the bed and climbed onto his lap, facing him. My hands came up, reaching for the edges of his mask, needing to see who was behind it. But he caught my wrists, stopping me. In a swift move, he flipped our positions, laying me back on the bed and coming over me, his body caging mine.

His lips found the sensitive skin of my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes shutting on their own and the night seemed to disappear, becoming history the moment he pulled down the strap of my dress.

……

The next morning, the piercing ring of my phone dragged me from a deep sleep. I groaned. My body ached all over, a dull throb of pain in my muscles. Last night had been… rough and intense. The memories flooded back in a dizzy rush, and a wave of disbelief washed over me.

I couldn’t believe I had really stooped so low as throwing myself at a complete stranger.

Shaking my head, trying not to dwell on it, I reached clumsily for my phone on the nightstand. It was a missed call from my mom. I checked the call log and saw another missed call from Chloe. And somehow, what hurt most was noticing that Alistair’s name was not included in the list. He hadn’t tried to call.

"That's for the best," I muttered to the quiet room, trying to convince myself. I left the warmth of the bed and began to dress quickly, my movements stiff. As I finished, I turned and finally faced the man who was now sleeping with his back to me.

I paused, my eyes catching the shirt he wore. I thought I saw black last night? But this... this looked… familiar. A cold trickle of unease started in my chest, but I didn’t want to believe it. Slowly, hesitantly, I walked closer. His mask was gone, discarded somewhere in the night. I took another step, moving to see his face, when he spoke. His voice stopped me dead in my tracks, my eyes widening in shock.

"You’re leaving already?" he asked, his tone still thick with sleep.

"That voice…?" I muttered to myself, a tremor running through me.

The voice was slightly deeper, but terribly familiar.

My heart began to hammer against my ribs. The man sat up, turning, and his face came into clear view in the morning light.

All the blood drained from my face. I gasped, barely able to believe what I was hearing.

“Alistair?”

The man from last night… was my fiancé?

The reality crashed down on me with force. My mind reeled, struggling to piece together the impossible.

"I got drunk, and my one-night stand… was my fiancé?"