I Chose The Ruthless Billionaire

Chapter: Fight the Fire Burning Inside

The rest of the night was an utter blur of clinking champagne glasses, polite nods, and the heavy weight of envious stares.

Whenever an influential executive or a curious socialite approached us, Xian kept his hand resting firmly on the small of my back. He didn't speak much—he never did—but his presence was a constant, solid warmth at my side. He answered questions about business with short, decisive statements, but whenever someone directed a question at me, he paused, turning his head slightly to let me take the floor.

I played my part flawlessly. I laughed at the right moments, offered polished, intelligent responses, and maintained the radiant smile of a woman who had the world at her feet.

By the time Master Lin brought the limousine around to the private exit at midnight, my feet were aching in my designer heels, and my head was pounding from the sheer exhaustion of keeping my guard up.

The moment the car doors shut and the quiet humming of the engine filled the cabin, the heavy atmosphere of the gala melted away.

I leaned my head back against the soft leather seat, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "I don't think I've ever smiled that much in my entire life."

Beside me, Xian unbuttoned his suit jacket, pulling off his tie with a quick, practiced motion. He tossed it onto the empty seat across from us, tossing his dark hair back.

"You did well," he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet interior of the car.

I turned my head to look at him. In the passing amber glow of the streetlights filtering through the tinted windows, his sharp features looked slightly relaxed, less like the cold king of the Zhao empire and more like a man who was simply tired.

"I had to," I murmured, staring down at the platinum lotus pendant resting on my chest. "I couldn't let them think I was easy prey. Or that your father made a mistake by backing me."

Xian turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine in the dim light. "My father didn't make a mistake. And neither did I."

My heart did a strange, sudden flip in my chest. I quickly looked away, clearing my throat to break the sudden intensity stretching between us.

"About... what happened on stage," I began, my cheeks warming up as the memory of our kiss flashed through my mind. "The kissing. And the... 'honey' comment."

"What about it?" Xian asked smoothly.

"I know it was just for the crowd," I said, trying to sound practical and composed. "To establish my standing and shut down the rumors. I just... wanted to make sure we're still on the same page regarding our agreement."

Silence settled over the backseat. For a long moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the tires against the wet pavement.

When I glanced back at him, Xian was staring at me, his expression completely unreadable.

"Our twelve-month agreement," he stated, his voice flat and devoid of the warmth it had carried moments ago.

"Right," I swallowed, forcing a small nod. "Twelve months. Then a quiet divorce."

Xian didn't answer immediately. He leaned back against his headrest, turning his gaze toward the dark scenery passing outside the window. The cold, impenetrable wall he always wore seemed to slide back into place, thicker and higher than before.

"Of course," Xian said quietly, his tone dropping several degrees. "A deal is a deal, Althea."

A strange, hollow ache settled in the pit of my stomach, but I ignored it. I had to. I was the one who had drawn the boundaries in his study, holding the contract in my hands. I couldn't afford to get swept up in his fake affection, no matter how real his touch had felt under the bright lights of the ballroom.

When the car finally pulled up to the Blackwood Residence, Xian opened his door before Master Lin could even step around to assist.

"Go up to your room and rest," Xian said, stepping out into the cool night air without looking back at me. "I have documents to review in my study."

"Xian, it's past midnight—"

"Goodnight, Althea," he interrupted, his voice firm and distant as he walked toward the heavy front doors of the fortress.

I sat in the back of the car for a few seconds, watching his tall figure disappear into the shadows of the estate. I touched my lips, still feeling the faint, lingering phantom of his kiss.

Twelve months, I reminded myself as I stepped out into the night, wrapping my arms around myself against the chill. Just twelve months.

So why did the thought of those months ending suddenly feel less like a victory and more like a sentence?

The stillness of my bedroom was suffocating.

By 1:30 AM, I had shed the spun-silver gown, washed off the heavy makeup, and unpinned the intricate headdress. I stood in front of the bathroom sink clad in an oversized cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, looking at the tired face staring back at me.

Except for one thing.

The platinum lotus necklace was still resting against my collarbone. I reached behind my neck to undo the clasp, but my fingers froze. My mind instantly replayed the heavy, velvet whisper near my ear from the night before: Wear it every day.

"Get a grip, Althea," I muttered to my reflection, my fingers dropping away from the chain.

I turned off the bathroom light and began pacing the wide, polished floorboards of my bedroom. Sleep was completely out of the question. My heart rate refused to settle, my skin still buzzing from the sheer heat of his hands, the possessive grip around my waist, and the intoxicating, ruthless passion of that kiss on stage.

It was infuriating.

I was a sensible woman. I was a educated, grounded teacher who had built her career from scratch, survived poverty, and navigated every obstacle with cold, calculated logic. I had literally drafted a non-interference, twelve-month divorce contract just two days ago!

So why was my body reacting like this?

I sat at the edge of the bed, burying my face in my hands. It’s purely physical, I told myself sternly. That’s all it is.

It made total sense. Zhao Xian was built like an absolute model tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp, aristocratic features and a voice that could make steel melt. Any woman with a pulse would feel a spark of physical attraction if a man like that pulled her against his chest and kissed her senseless in front of a room full of billionaires. It was basic biology. A fleeting, involuntary chemical reaction.

"It's just lust," I whispered into the quiet room, trying the words on my tongue to see if they offered comfort. "He's stunning, he's powerful, and I'm human. That's all."

It wasn't love. It couldn't be. You don't fall in love with an icy billionaire in less than a week. He was protecting me because of his pride and our deal, not because he held genuine feelings for a former schoolteacher. The moment I started mistaking his cold possessiveness for actual affection, I would end up broken—just another victim of the Zhao dynasty.

Satisfied with my logical explanation, I stood up to pour myself a glass of water from the carafe on my nightstand.

That’s when I noticed the faint line of golden light spilling from underneath the crack of my bedroom door.

I walked over and pulled the heavy door open a fraction. The long hallway of the east wing was silent, but down the corridor, the double doors to his study were slightly ajar. A warm glow emanated from within, cutting through the dimness of the estate.

He was still awake. Working past 2:00 AM after a grueling gala.

Before my rational brain could stop me, my feet were already moving down the quiet corridor. I told myself I was just going to check if he needed anything—or maybe return the gesture of courtesy. But the truth was, my traitorous body just wanted to see him again.

I stopped outside the study doors and knocked softly.

"Enter," his low, raspy voice called out.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The study was bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. Xian sat behind his massive desk, his dark hair slightly rumpled, the top three buttons of his white dress shirt undone, revealing a hint of his tanned chest. He had pushed his sleeves past his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms, and a pair of silver-framed reading glasses rested on his nose as he reviewed financial reports.

He looked so dangerously, effortlessly handsome that my throat instantly went dry. My heart did a violent, traitorous thud against my ribs.

Just physical, I reminded myself desperately. Strictly physical.

Xian slowly removed his glasses, setting them down on top of a leather folder. His dark, sharp eyes tracked me as I walked toward the desk.

"You're not sleeping," he observed, his voice deep and smooth in the late-night quiet.

"Neither are you," I replied, resting my hands on the back of one of the leather armchairs across from him. "It's past two in the morning, Xian. Even ruthless tycoons need rest."

"I have quarterly earnings to authorize before the Asian markets open at eight," he said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. His gaze drifted down to my plain t-shirt, then moved up to the platinum lotus glinting at my throat. A subtle shift occurred in his dark eyes—a quiet satisfaction that made my cheeks flush. "I see you kept the chain on."

"I... forgot to take it off," I lied, looking away for a split second.

Xian let out a low, almost silent hum that vibrated through the quiet room. "Is that so?"

"Yes," I cleared my throat, forcing my voice into a businesslike tone. "I just came to see if you needed anything. Tea, or... coffee. Before I go to sleep."

Xian stood up slowly. Without the barrier of the desk between us, his sheer physical height and commanding presence filled the room, making the air feel suddenly thin. He walked around the desk, stopping just a foot away from me.

The subtle scent of cedar, fine whiskey, and rain wrapped around my senses instantly.

"I don't need coffee, Althea," he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my knees feel dangerously soft.

"Then what do you need?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my gaze involuntarily dropping to his lips—the same lips that had thoroughly undone me on stage hours ago.

Xian reached out, his long, warm fingers brushing lightly against my jawline, tracing the soft skin down to where the lotus pendant rested. His touch sent a sharp, electrifying shiver straight down my spine, pooling low in my stomach.

"I need my wife to stop pacing her room at night, trying to convince herself that she regrets choosing me," Xian said softly, his thumb lightly stroking the hollow of my throat.

I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my chest. He was too close. His touch was too warm, his presence too overwhelming for my flimsy self-control.

"I don't regret choosing you," I admitted softly, unable to look away from his dark, hypnotic eyes. "I just... need to keep my head clear."

"Your head is fine," Xian murmured, leaning down just an inch, his warm breath fanning across my lips. "It's your heart you're afraid of."

My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I was certain he could feel it through the thin fabric of my shirt. I gripped the back of the chair behind me, holding on for dear life as I forced a small, confident smirk to my face.

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Zhao," I said, forcing a cool edge into my voice despite the wildfire burning under my skin. "I told you. I'm just appreciating the view. You're a very attractive man, but a contract is still a contract."

Xian stared at me for a long, silent moment. Then, to my absolute shock, a genuine, low chuckle rumbled in his chest—a sound so rare and intoxicating it practically melted what was left of my composure.

He didn't push me. He didn't pull me into another breath-stealing kiss. Instead, he slowly withdrew his hand, stepping back with that frustratingly calm, arrogant grace.

"Go to bed, Althea," Xian said softly, picking up his glasses from the desk. "Enjoy the view while you can. But remember... eleven months is a very long time to fight what's right in front of you."

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

I turned around and walked out of the study, my cheeks burning, my heart racing, and my body practically humming with a dangerous, undeniable desire.

Back in my room, I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I touched the cold metal of the lotus pendant.

It was just physical attraction. It had to be.

Because if this intense, breathless feeling turned out to be something deeper... I was going to be completely ruined long before those twelve months were up.