THE BILLIONAIRE SECRET

CHAPTER-7

"You don't even trust me?" The words glared at me from my screen, as cold and razor-sharp as the November wind that whistled through the cracks of my apartment window. I stood stock-still, my phone in my hand, the sound of Finlay's voice still echoing in my ears.

"I wasn't sure you'd survive tonight without telling everyone your secrets," he had teased, leaning in too close, his breath warm against my skin during the dinner.

Now, I was caught between the tension of his flirtation and Madison's cryptic message.

Earlier that evening

"Do you ever feel like someone's watching you?" I had asked Finlay when we were seated at the restaurant. His smirk widened, his gaze locking onto mine.

Not until now."

The weight of his words clung to the space between us. I fidgeted with the edge of my napkin, trying to ignore the way his presence tugged at something deep inside me.

"You're relentless," I muttered, looking around the table only to catch Madison's dagger eyes staring at us. She quickly glanced away, feigning a laugh at something our boss said.

"Just observant." Finlay's voice drew me back. "You're not as guarded as you think."

Before I could respond, Orla, who had strategically seated herself across from me, spoke up.

"It must be exhausting keeping up with the façade," she said, her words laced with venom although her smile was painted with innocence.

My pulse quickened. "Excuse me?"

“Oh, don’t play coy, darling,” Orla continued, her voice a mockery of sincerity. “You’re hiding something. Aren’t you?”

The table grew uncomfortably silent, save for the faint clinking of cutlery. My hands tightened around my fork, my mind racing. Did she know about Mia? Had Madison told her? Or was this some cruel bluff?

“I’m sure Orla’s just being dramatic, as always,” Finlay interjected smoothly, though his eyes stayed locked on me, probing for a reaction.

Orla’s smile didn’t falter. “Dramatic? Maybe. But you, Finlay, you’ve always been terrible at noticing the obvious.”

Later, back at my apartment

I paced the small living room, reading Madison's message for the fifth time. Anger and fear tugged at my chest with equal force. After Orla's comment over dinner, neither of us had said much; still, I could feel Madison's eyes burning holes in my skin.

What could she want to say now? I debated for a minute, then typed out a response.

"Come over."

She didn't leave me hanging for too long. "Be there in 10."

I sat and began running the evening's occurrences through my head-the way Orla seemed to relish in pushing my buttons, the way Finlay's gaze lingered too long, Madison's strange behavior-her guarded expression, her clutching the phone at dinner as if some unspoken truth lay there,.

It wasn't until that knock finally did come, I opened my door to Madison, her arms crossed, her usual warmth replaced with something colder.

"We need to talk," she said, stepping inside without any sense of invitation.

"I got that from your message," I replied, closing the door. "What's going on?"

Madison faced me, her eyes scanning the room as if she were searching for evidence. "You tell me, Luciana. What's going on with you and Finlay?"

I blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." Her voice was sharp. "You've been acting strange ever since he showed up. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"Acting strange? Madison, he's our boss. I'm trying to keep things professional.

Professional?" She scoffed. "The way he looks at you isn't professional, and you're not exactly pushing him away."

Heat rose to my cheeks. "That's none of your business."

"None of my business?" Madison's voice cracked with frustration. "I'm your best friend, Luciana. Or at least, I thought I was.

I stared at her, unsure how to respond. There was an edge in her voice that I hadn't heard before, a mix of jealousy and something else I couldn't quite place.

"And what about Orla?" Madison pressed on. "Do you think she's just going to sit back and let you waltz into Finlay's life?"

"Orla means nothing to me," I said, but my voice lacked even a little bit of conviction. "And neither does Finlay. I have more important things on my mind."

"Like what?" Madison asked, her eyes narrowing. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks to me like you're hiding something. And Orla is not the only person who has noticed that."

My heart sank. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying," Madison said, stepping closer, "if you don't tell me the truth, someone will figure it out. And they won't be as forgiving as I am."

The air between us was thick; the weight of unsaid truths pressed down on me. I wanted to believe that Madison was still my ally, but something in her eyes made me question everything.

Before I could say anything, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I looked at the screen and froze.

It was Finlay.

"Are you going to answer that?" Madison asked, her voice filled with suspicion.

I hesitated before picking it up. "Hello?"

"Luciana." He sounded calm but urgent. "We need to talk."

"Now's not a good time," I told him, looking at Madison.

"It's important," Finlay insisted. "I know about Mia.

The room spun, my grip tightening on the phone. "What?"

"You heard me," Finlay said, his voice softer now. "We need to talk. In private."

I ended the call without answering, my hands shaking as I set the phone down. When I looked up, Madison was staring at me, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt.

"Who's Mia?" she asked softly.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The walls I had built around my secrets were starting to crumble, and there was no way to stop it.