Page 54 of Merciless Billionaire's Savage Desire

“Yes! And Mom, I don’t want a boring birthday,” Zara said dramatically. “I want to book an entire flight. I’ll invite a few of my overseas contacts.”

“Are they your friends?” Valentina asked, one brow arched.

“Not really. Just some people I know... but imagine how amazing it’ll look when people see we have many international guests. Everyone will think we’re even more rich and important.”

Valentina nodded. “Alright then. How about we also invite the Kingsleys? We’re not exactly close, but their name’s been in every headline lately—especially that Dante Kingsley. If he agrees to come, maybe we could even talk about marriage. You’d be at the top of society, darling.”

“Yes, yes! Please!” Zara clapped, her heart racing. She’d seen Dante in magazines—tall, powerful, devastatingly handsome—and read about his immense wealth. Just the thought of standing beside him made her chest flutter.

‘If I marry him, I’ll be the richest wife in the country,’ she thought smugly. ‘Everyone will look up to me.’

“Wait, I’ll give him a call,” Valentina said, grabbing her phone confidently. “I got it from a woman I met at a party recently—just in case. Good thing I did.”

The phone rang only a few times before a deep, calm voice answered.

“Yes?”

Zara’s breath caught in her throat. Even his voice was magnetic. Cold. Commanding.

Her breath hitched. ‘This man… I want him.’

“Dante, this is Mrs. Valentina Fox,” she said sweetly, keeping her voice smooth and poised.

"Who?" Dante’s voice came from the other side of the line, sounding confused.

Valentina's smile faltered slightly. She let out an awkward laugh before answering. "Do you know James Fox? He's your grandpa's friend. I'm his daughter-in-law."

"Oh, right." Dante’s voice hardened instantly. It was no longer soft, no longer polite—and that shift made Valentina straighten, her posture suddenly stiff, her expression faltering.

"I called you, Dante—"

"It’s Mr. Kingsley," he muttered, cutting her off coldly.

Valentina blinked, stunned. The air around her bristled with tension. Still, she forced herself to swallow the insult, eventhough her fists clenched tightly around the phone. "There's a party soon. We're celebrating my daughter’s birthday. My daughter, Zara? It’s her birthday, so I wanted to invite you to come this Sunday."

"Isn’t it Anya’s birthday as well?" Dante asked, his voice calm, but razor-sharp.

Valentina’s face dropped. Her voice turned sour, clipped with bitterness. "Yeah. Anya and my daughter Zara have the same birthday." She paused, her tone shifting from stiff to suspicious. "You know Anya?"

"Yes, she is my secretary. Since it’s her birthday on Sunday, I won’t be attending your party. I’ll be celebrating with her.”

“But—”

Before she could finish, the call ended. The line went dead. Valentina sat frozen, her face twisted in fury. Her nostrils flared, and fury surged through her as she flung the phone onto the table with a sharp exhale.

She stared at her phone in disbelief. Then slowly, her expression twisted. Her nostrils flared, and fury surged through her as she flung the phone onto the couch with a sharp exhale. "That little bitch!" she snapped. Her voice rose in volume, echoing through the room.

Zara, seated nearby, looked up. Her mother’s face was red with rage.

"How the hell… How can she? Zara!" Valentina barked. "That bitch. She’s already wrapped herself around Dante. He wouldn’t even come toyourbirthday party! Did you hear how he spoke to me? That rudeness, that disrespect—because ofher! She’s hooked up with him already, hasn’t she?"

Zara’s face darkened, and color flushed into her cheeks. "How’s that possible?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone. Her voice trembled, disbelief laced with jealousy. "How can he accept someone like her? How can she get someone like Dante?"

***

"What would be the best gift for a woman?" Dante asked calmly, phone pressed to his ear.

Triston, on the other end, blinked. "For a woman…?" He paused, thinking. "For moms, usually jewelry or luxury bags. You don’t have to pick them yourself—just pick something expensive, and she’ll love it."

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