Desired by the Billionaire Playboy

Emily's pov

Becky was truly the golden child.

I'd get straight A's, but that was 'expected.' Becky would manage to avoid straight 'F's, and my parents would shake the house down to its foundation, congratulating her like she just solved world hunger.

After I left that house, I thought I'd left all that behind.

But nope!

It wasn't bad enough that she already had everything; she had to take the little I had as well.

"I want to go back home," I told Wendy quietly. I thought she'd argue and nag, but she agreed easily. When we passed the sliding doors of the hotel, I was still thinking of Brad; he had never once kissed me like that, leaning in with his whole body while he craved with need.

That was my wake-up call.

I held Wendy tighter.

"You know what?" I said, a rush of determination entering me, "Fuck Brad, the night is young and I deserve to have fun. Who cares about him?"

Wendy looked at me worriedly at first, then squeezed my hand with support, smiling back in approval.

We went to the hotel bar just like we had been planning at first. My heart was pounding with every step, expecting to catch Brad and Becky again from the corner of my eye.

To think that he still went ahead with his plans for her tonight propelled me forward.

That night, for the first time in years, I got lit, chugging bottle after bottle until I was wasted. My mind was so blurred with the alcohol that I could hardly process the ache in my heart. The most romantic thing that Brad had ever done for me was taking me to that two-star restaurant that ended up closing down a few days later because of how poor their service was.

Yet, he brought my sister to this lovely hotel that reeked of luxury and opulence. I guess all the money troubles that he was having in his business were yet another lie meant to deceive me.

I pressed another glass to my lips again, remembering that damn kiss.

Then I got up to dance.

With a pull that felt stronger than gravity, I found myself shifting closer to a man on the dancefloor, each clumsy step wobbling me closer to him until I collapsed in his arms. I know it was wrong, but for some reason, it felt so right. I looked up at him, sparks flew, and then, we kissed.

••••••••

I woke up the next morning on the floor of my best friend's apartment, spread out next to the coffee table in the living room. She was snoring on her couch when I woke her up, both of us groggy and stumbling over each other, trying to find the hangover pills. After that, a shower and a strong cup of coffee, I could feel some semblance of life flowing back to us.

I spent the entire morning with my best friend just chatting and pretending like my whole life had not collapsed.

It was nice, the escape from reality, but those stolen moments ended after I got a text from Brad.

I looked at the text and then at Wendy.

"He asked me when I'm coming home," I said, my voice breaking into a strange laugh as I put my phone and the coffee mug aside. "He asked when I'm coming home, Wendy! What home? The audacity of this man!"

That was no longer my home. In fact, I don't think it has ever really been my home. I just deluded myself into believing it. I felt like such an idiot for not realizing it, the smell of women's perfume he always had on him, working overtime even though there was never enough money to show it, getting irritated over every little thing.

It was screaming affair in every way, but I chose to turn a blind eye to it.

I especially didn't want to believe that of all the women he chose to be with, it had to be my sister.

There was no way to salvage this.

"I'm going to see him, Wendy," I said, covering my face, and I could already guess that she was worried even without saying her expression. "Don't worry, nothing he says will make me get back with him, but I just need to know why he did it. Maybe I'll get closure, maybe not... Then we'll talk about the divorce."

I broke down again, and Wendy hugged me.

Half an hour later, I was dressed in her clothes and parked in front of the house I'd soon have to split.

"Do you need me to come in there with you?"

I chuckled, grateful for my friend's support.

"Thanks, but I have a feeling that there won't be much talking if you come along with me."

Her shoulders slumped, unable to deny it.

"All right, I'll be waiting here. Don't listen to anything he says, no matter what. This is his fault. He ruined your marriage, okay?"

I nodded, stepping out of the car and taking reluctant steps until I was inside the house.

Brad was waiting.

But he wasn't alone.

Next to him, pressed to his side like a kitten, was my younger sister Becky. She saw me and gasped dramatically.

"Emily, you look like a ghost." I could always trust my younger sister for a compliment, but right now was not the time to deal with her. Still standing, I looked at Brad.

"I came to discuss with you, not your mistress."

Brad's face clenched with anger.

"How can you call your sister something so vile?"

I almost broke into that odd laughter again, my entire face twitched, and this indescribable urge to clinch my face and swing it at either one of their faces overwhelmed me.

He still had the audacity to get angry, to fume at me for being just fully upset after they both betrayed me. Wasn't he worried that he had shattered my heart? He was still concerned about how I addressed my sister. I thought I was going to throw up. This was beyond sickening.

If there was any hesitation before, it's immediately dissolved as I said; "Brad, I want a divorce."