Page 113 of Money Reigns
I move the tray off my lap, every nerve suddenly screaming wrong, and gather the comforter up to cover my chest as I swing my legs off the bed.
I need out.
I need air.
I need to think without him watching me like he owns every breath I take.
I spot my dress on the floor. My underwear. I grab both in one frantic motion and step into the panties like I’m on fire.
He’s still watching.
Warren fucking Beaumont takes a seat, shirtless, in a chair like a king watching a prisoner try to escape. His eyes are molten steel, pupils blown wide, and still,stillhe doesn’t move.
I pull the dress over my head.
Fuck the bra. I don’t care.
I just need to get out of this bed, this tower, this trap.
“Olivia.”
One word. Just one. And it stops me.
His voice slices straight through the noise.
I freeze, halfway to the door.
“I’m not doing this,” I say quickly, not looking at him. “I’m not playing house in your penthouse. I’m not your girlfriend of the month.”
Silence.
No footsteps. No outburst. Just pressure. His silence is heavier than most men’s screams.
“We had fun,” I push, my voice rising. “We had sex. That’s all this was. You don’t get to order my clothes and plan my calendar and decide where I live like I’m one of the properties you buy and control.”
Still nothing.
I can feel his stare on my back like heat.
My throat tightens. I hate the way my voice wavers next.
“I don’t want to be in your loop of women, Warren.”
Finally, I hear it. The soft creak of the chair as he rises.
My body locks up.
“I said—”
“You’re spiraling,” he says, voice calm. Too calm. “I can hear the thoughts bouncing around in that pretty head of yours, and not a single one of them is real.”
I turn to face him, and it’s a mistake.
He’s close.Too close.
“Stop talkingatme,” I snap. “You don’t know what I’m thinking—”
“I do.” His eyes flash. “You think I recycle women. You’re right. I do. But not you.”
