The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 61

Aveline

Days had passed since that disastrous dinner, and I still couldn't shake the lingering effects of that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I could feel the weight of Orion's body beneath mine, the way my treacherous body had responded to his proximity despite everything rational in my mind screaming danger.

It was infuriating. Humiliating. I was a trained psychologist—I should have been able to analyze and dismiss these physical reactions as mere biological responses with no deeper meaning. But instead, I found myself lying awake at night, replaying every moment of contact, every heated exchange, every dangerous look he'd given me.

The man clearly had serious psychological issues. What he'd displayed that night was classic possessive control disorder—the pathological need to own and dominate when faced with rejection. All the warning signs were there: escalating from charm to threats when his desired outcome was refused, inability to accept 'no' as an answer, and the destructive impulse to eliminate what he couldn't possess.

Orion Blackwell was a prime example of someone who would rather destroy something than allow it to exist beyond his control.

But my professional analysis did nothing to ease the ache in my chest when I thought about Ryan.

He hadn't been to school in four days. Four days of me checking the attendance rolls, hoping to see his name, hoping Orion had changed his mind. But Principal Foster had confirmed what I'd dreaded—the Blackwell family had officially requested transfer paperwork for "Master Ryan."

The thought of him starting over at some new school, with teachers who didn't understand his sensitivity, his brilliance, his need for gentle encouragement rather than harsh correction, made me physically sick. We'd been making such progress. He'd been laughing, participating in group activities, even showing off his musical talents to the other children.

What if his new teachers tried to force him into their rigid expectations? What if they stifled that beautiful, creative spirit I'd worked so hard to nurture?

But beyond my professional concerns was something deeper, something I couldn't quite name. Ryan had always felt... familiar to me. From the very first day, there had been something about his mannerisms, his expressions, the way he tilted his head when he was thinking, that tugged at memories I couldn't access. It was like looking at someone I'd known in another life.

By Saturday morning, I was climbing the walls. I caught my reflection in the bedroom mirror and had to stop and stare at the evidence of that night's confrontation.

The bite mark on my neck was still clearly visible—deep indentations from teeth that had been applied with deliberate force, not the playful nip of someone caught up in passion. The bruising had darkened to purple and yellow, making it look like I'd been attacked by some wild animal.

Which, I supposed, wasn't far from the truth.

I wrapped a silk scarf around my neck, arranging it to hide the worst of the marks. The last thing I wanted was for Grandmother to see them and worry about me. As for the rest of my family—well, let Monica and Vivian draw their own conclusions. They'd probably assume the worst anyway.

I needed a distraction. Something to get me out of my own head before I drove myself completely insane with worry about Ryan and anger at his insufferable father.

"Luna?" I said when she picked up her phone. "Are you free for coffee? I need to get out of the house."

An hour later, we were settled in our favorite corner booth at a quiet café in SoHo, steaming lattes in front of us and the comfortable buzz of weekend conversation around us. But I must have looked as miserable as I felt, because Luna took one look at my face and immediately went into concerned friend mode.

"Okay, spill," she said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. "You look absolutely wrecked. What happened? Did you and your mysterious billionaire have a fight?"

I stared down at my coffee, trying to find the words to explain the crushing weight in my chest. "It's like... like losing a baby, Luna."

Her eyes went wide with alarm. "Aveline, what are you talking about? You don't have children!"

The words hung in the air, and suddenly I was horrified by my own reaction.

Had I really started thinking of Ryan as my child? When had this little boy with his serious dark eyes and careful way of speaking become so important to me that losing him felt like...

Like losing my own baby.

The memory surfaced unbidden—sterile hospital walls, the gentle voice telling me there was nothing they could do, the devastating emptiness that had followed. I'd carried that grief for years, buried it deep, convinced myself I'd moved on.

But now, thinking about never seeing Ryan again, never hearing him call me "Miss Aveline" or watching his face light up when he played piano, it felt exactly the same. The same hollow ache, the same sense of something precious being ripped away.

My hands were shaking as I reached into my purse and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with unsteady fingers.

"Aveline," Luna said gently, "you're scaring me. And since when do you smoke?"

I took a long drag, letting the nicotine calm my frayed nerves. "It's an old habit. When I'm stressed, when I can't sleep, when I need something to do with my hands besides fall apart. I know it's terrible for me, but..."

I shrugged helplessly, taking another drag.

Luna reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Honey, what's really going on? You've been different since the last time we hung out. More distant, more... sad."

I was about to answer when I felt the silk scarf slip slightly from my neck. Luna's gasp told me she'd seen what I'd been trying to hide.

"Jesus Christ, Aveline! What happened to your neck? That looks like—" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "Did someone bite you?"

Heat flooded my cheeks as I quickly adjusted the scarf. "It's nothing. Just... I was attacked by a dog. A really aggressive one."

Luna's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "A dog? Aveline, that looks human-sized. And way too deliberate to be an accident."

Despite everything, I couldn't help but laugh at her expression. "You're right, it wasn't exactly a dog. More like a rabid wolf in an expensive suit. Very territorial, very bitey when he doesn't get his way."

"Oh my God," Luna breathed, her eyes lighting up with understanding. "It was him, wasn't it? Your billionaire! What did he do? Should we call the police? I know people who can—"

"Luna, stop," I said, waving away her protective instincts. "It's complicated. And it's over now anyway. We had a... disagreement about boundaries, and now I'll never have to see him again."

"But you don't look relieved," Luna observed, studying my face with those perceptive green eyes. "You look heartbroken."

Before I could respond, my phone rang. The caller ID made my stomach drop: Mitchell.

Why would Orion's butler be calling me? Had something happened? Was Ryan hurt?

"Hello?" I answered, my voice tight with anxiety.

"Ms. Reeves!" Mitchell's voice was strained, panicked in a way I'd never heard before. "Thank God you answered. I'm so sorry to bother you, but we have an emergency. Ryan has run away from home!"