Billionaire's Chase For His Thorned Rose

“Amara!”

I jerked awake to the sound of Damon’s voice, loud and intrusive. My heart raced as I blinked against the morning light streaming through the curtains. My body stiffened when I saw him standing before me. His hair was disheveled, his tie loosened, but he still looked infuriatingly composed.

He leaned down, his hands braced on either side of me as if to kiss me, but I flinched and leaned back. My voice came out cold. “What are you doing here?”

His brows furrowed. “You slept on the couch?”

I didn’t bother answering, pushing the blanket off as I stood. I kept my gaze steady on him, taking in the faint crease of annoyance on his forehead. For a fleeting moment, I thought about confronting him outright, demanding answers, but I decided against it. What was the point?

I turned to leave, but his hand shot out, gripping mine. “Hey, what’s going on?” His voice carried an edge of confusion, as if he were the victim in this mess.

I yanked my hand free, glaring at him. “Where were you last night?”

He sighed heavily, his fingers running through his hair. “At the company. I was working my ass off, as always.”

I scoffed. “Oh, I see. And Miranda? Has she suddenly become part of your work schedule now?”

His head snapped up, his expression shifting. “What are you talking about?”

“You went with her to Palm Springs Aerial Tramway,” I spat, my voice shaking. “Then you spent the night at her place. And now you have the guts to stand here and lie to me.”

His jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. “Were you spying on me?”

A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped me. “Spying? Are you serious?”

“You know I hate that,” he said, his tone low and accusatory.

“Oh, and I love being shamed and kept waiting outside Le Château Étoilé for three hours in the freezing cold!” I stepped closer, poking his chest with every word. “Three hours, Damon. I stood there, eating snow and feeling like a fool.”

His expression softened for a moment, as if realizing his mistake, but it quickly hardened again. He waved dismissively. “Three hours? Come on, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure you left after ten minutes.”

I stared at him, my disbelief giving way to fury. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, exhaling sharply. “About Miranda—she needed me yesterday. She’s my best friend. I couldn’t just ignore her after all she’s gone through.”

“And me?” My voice cracked, my eyes stinging as tears threatened to spill again. “You made her happy at my expense. It was our seventh anniversary, Damon. Seven years. But to you, it was just another day. You sidelined me and turned me into a laughingstock. All for Miranda.”

“Come on, Amara.” He reached out as if to console me, but I stepped back. “I thought you’d understand. She was recalling bad moments, and I just wanted to lighten her mood.”

“And I’m supposed to just accept that?” My voice rose, thick with anger and hurt. “The last three months, you’ve done more for her than you’ve done for me in years. You don’t even talk about our wedding anymore.”

He waved a hand dismissively, his expression indifferent. “Is that what you’re upset about? We can postpone it.”

My jaw dropped. “W-what?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, as if it were a simple decision. “Miranda’s been going through a lot. You can’t imagine how hard her life’s been since her breakup. She feels shattered.”

“She’s pretending,” I hissed. “She came back because you’re successful now, and she wants to ruin what we have.”

“Stop it, Amara.” His voice was sharp now. “She’s not vile. She means well—for both of us.”

“No,” I snapped. “She only means well for herself.”

“You’re wrong,” he said firmly. “Yesterday, she helped me secure the Daven Technologies contract. That’s huge for my company.”

“She…” I faltered, my heart sinking. “No. That wasn’t her.”

“It was,” he insisted. “Tasha said she saw her dropping the contract documents on my desk. She didn’t even tell me about it until after closing hours. She’s so humble.” He paused, his expression almost reverent. “The last two months she’s worked for my company, we’ve flourished.”

My stomach churned as I stared at him. “You’ve got it wrong, Damon. That contract—I got it for you.”

His head tilted, his gaze doubtful. “Look, I know you’ve helped us bag some deals, but this is different.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He shrugged, his voice casual but cutting. “It can’t be you. You dropped out of college. You’re not as experienced as she is at convincing top companies.”

My vision blurred as the words sank in. “You…” My voice trembled.

He stepped closer, taking my hand. “Let’s forget about yesterday, okay? I’ll make it up to you.”

I stared at Damon, his words echoing in my mind like a hammer striking fragile glass. It can’t be you. My knees wobbled as a sharp ache spread through my chest. Those words weakened me, carving deep into my soul. How could he so easily dismiss me, the woman who had stood by him through every storm?