Page 116 of Billionaire’s Ruin

Something deeper, older.

As though my soul recognized hers before my brain could catch up.

It flooded my veins, hot and wild, and I didn’t want to stop it.

I didn’t want to be rational.

I didn’t want to be good.

For once, losing control didn’t register as danger.

It settled into me as something undeniably right.

A need to consume her surged—pull her close, taste her, bury my face in her hair, breathe her in until I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.

Creepy? Maybe to anyone else.

But to me, it was the purest thing I’d ever felt. The only solid truth in the chaos of the past weeks.

Then June eased back, creating a sliver of distance.

Just a small movement, barely a breath of space—but it sliced clean, sharp.

A rejection I felt all the way to my ribs.

Stillness became my shield, pretending the ache didn’t exist.

Pretending I wasn’t dizzy.

Pretending the world wasn’t tilting sideways from the sedative Lucy had slipped into my bloodstream.

Everything around me blurred.

Unreal.

“It’s nice to see you, June.”

Lucy’s words drifted in like a muffled echo from underwater—soft, uncertain.

Just like that, she slipped away from me.

Snatched away from me in a blur of motion, Lucy guiding her out of the room as if they were old friends catching up over tea.

Old friends.

Right.

They’d barely spoken.

What could they possibly be discussing?

“You look wrecked.”

The sound sliced through the haze—clear, familiar, grounding.

I didn’t need to see the face to know who it belonged to. My vision steadied just enough to confirm it.

Lincoln—my best friend.