Pampered By The Heartless Billionaire Monster

Bridget stared at the black card for a long time. Her stomach twisted with a mixture of shame and anger. She shoved the card deep into the bottom of her leather handbag. She took a quick shower, put on a sharp, tailored business suit, and left the hotel. At noon, she pushed open the heavy glass doors of Le Bernardin. The air inside was quiet, filled with the soft clinking of silver on fine china. The hostess led her to a semi-private booth near the back. Bridget ordered a glass of sparkling water. She sat with her back straight, her fingers resting on the cold glass. Fifteen minutes later, David walked in. He wore a fresh suit and a confident, arrogant smile, as if the scene in the hotel room last night had never happened. He sat down across from her. "You made a scene last night for nothing, Bridget. Men have needs. You need to learn how to look the other way if you want to survive in this circle." Bridget did not speak. She unzipped her bag, pulled out a thick stack of legal papers, and slapped them onto the table. "Sign it." David looked down. The bold letters at the top read 'Termination of Engagement Agreement'. The blood drained from his face. He pushed the papers back toward her violently. "Are you out of your mind?" "Your family's trust fund is bleeding cash. You need the Vincent name to secure your next round of financing. I don't need you." David's arrogant mask shattered. He rubbed his nose aggressively, leaning across the table. "If you break this off, I will call Page Six right now. I will tell them exactly how your mother trapped your father, and how you are nothing but a dirty secret." Bridget let out a short, cold laugh. "Go ahead. I have nothing to lose. But I will send the high-resolution photos of you and that blonde to every board member in your company." David's eyes widened with pure rage. He reached across the table, trying to grab her wrist. Bridget picked up her glass of sparkling water. She threw the freezing liquid directly into his face. The ice cubes hit his cheek. The water dripped down his nose and ruined his silk tie. The diners at the surrounding tables stopped eating and turned to look. David gasped, grabbing a cloth napkin to wipe his face, his teeth grinding together. Bridget stood up. She looked down at him. "Sign the papers by tomorrow, or my lawyers will see you in court." She turned and walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt her ribs. She needed a moment to breathe. She turned down the quiet, carpeted hallway leading to the restrooms. The thick carpet absorbed the sound of her footsteps. As she walked past the most exclusive VIP dining room at the end of the hall, she noticed the heavy mahogany door was not fully closed. A sliver of warm light spilled out onto the floor. Bridget glanced through the crack. Her feet stopped moving instantly. Her breath caught in her throat. Sitting at the head of the table was the man from last night. The man who had left the black card on the nightstand. He wore a dark suit, his posture relaxed but dominant. Sitting directly across from him was Cheyenne. Her half-sister. The legitimate daughter of the Vincent family. Cheyenne was leaning forward, pouring wine into the man's glass. Her voice was dripping with artificial sweetness. "Damond, my father was hoping we could discuss the merger over the weekend." Bridget's brain short-circuited. Damond. Damond Oneill. The ruthless predator of Wall Street. The man everyone in New York was terrified of. The man she had slept with to get back at David. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She took a step back. Inside the room, Damond slowly turned his head. His gray eyes cut through the narrow opening of the door. He looked directly into Bridget's eyes. He did not look surprised. He did not flinch. His gaze was dark, calculating, and full of amusement. He knew she was there. Bridget's stomach dropped to the floor. The realization hit her like a physical weight. Their meeting at the bar was not a coincidence. He knew exactly who she was. Cheyenne noticed Damond looking away. She started to turn her head toward the door. Bridget moved instantly. She pressed her back flat against the wall in the blind spot of the hallway, holding her breath. Her chest burned. "What are you looking at, Damond?" Cheyenne asked. "Nothing," Damond's deep voice drifted through the crack. "Just a lost kitten." The humiliation burned Bridget's skin. She bit her lip to keep from making a sound. She turned and practically ran down the hallway. She pushed through the front doors of the restaurant. The cold autumn wind of New York hit her face, but it did not cool the heat in her cheeks. David ran out of the doors behind her. "You are going to regret this, Bridget!" Bridget ignored him. She raised her hand and flagged down a yellow cab. She got into the back seat and slammed the door. She stared out the window at the restaurant's sign, her fingers rubbing her collarbone rapidly. She had just declared war on her ex-fiancé, and she had accidentally slept with the most dangerous man in the city.