Tempting The Billioanire

Emily's POV

I stared at the pack of condoms in my hand, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest. Louis stood in the doorway, his face pale as he struggled to find the right words.

"Who are these for?" I asked again, my voice steadier than I felt.

He seemed to stutter, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he managed to wheeze out, "It's for a friend. I was just helping him hold it."

I shook my head at his pathetic attempt to lie. Even now, even when caught red-handed, he couldn't give me the truth.

"Liar!" I yelled, my voice breaking. "You think I don't see it? You think I don't see the blog posts? You're getting married to Karen? You're getting married to my own sister!"

His shoulders relaxed, as though he knew there was no point in denying it anymore. The relief on his face made me sick.

"I didn't want you to find out this way," he began, his voice calm now. Too calm. "We were going to talk about it with you over dinner tonight. I already talked to your parents and-"

"You talked to my parents and what?" I screamed, cutting him off. "They allowed you to do the little switch between their daughters? Do you even think I'm a joke to you!"

The tears were coming now, hot and angry, streaming down my face. I hated myself for crying in front of him. I didn't want him to see how much he had broken me.

"It's not a big deal, Emily," Louis said, and those words hit me like a physical blow. "I know I made the wrong choice with you ever since I saw Karen. She's the one I love and I don't want to let go of her."

Not a big deal. Five years together. Five years of planning our future, of building a life, of believing in us. And it wasn't a big deal.

Something inside me snapped.

I walked toward him, my vision red with rage. Before I could think about what I was doing, my hand connected with his face. The slap echoed through the room, sharp and satisfying.

Louis stared at me, his hand going to his reddening cheek. For a moment, shock registered on his face. Then his eyes darkened with something I had never seen before.

Anger. Pure, terrifying anger.

His hand shot out and wrapped around my neck. I gasped as he squeezed, cutting off my air. My hands flew to his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away, but he was too strong.

"Never ever in your pathetic life raise your hands at me again," he snarled, his face inches from mine. "Or I swear to the Lord that you won't live to tell the story."

He released me suddenly, shoving me backward. I stumbled and fell to the floor, gasping for air. My throat burned where his fingers had been.

Louis stood over me for a moment, breathing hard. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out. The door slammed behind him so hard the walls shook.

I sat there on the cold floor, one hand on my bruised throat, the other still clutching that damn pack of condoms. And I cried. I cried until there were no tears left, until my chest ached and my eyes were swollen.

This was a side of Louis I had never seen. A side I never knew existed. How had I been so blind?

My phone buzzed sometime later. I didn't know how long I had been sitting there. Long enough for my legs to go numb.

It was my mother calling.

I almost didn't answer. But some stupid part of me still hoped that maybe, just maybe, she was calling to check on me. To tell me she was sorry. To choose me for once.

"Hello?" My voice came out raspy and broken.

"Emily, you need to come to the house tonight," my mother said without preamble. No "how are you," no "are you okay." Just a command.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's your grandfather's memorial service. Everyone will be there. Your father and I expect you to attend and behave appropriately."

"Behave appropriately?" I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. "Mother, did you know? About Louis and Karen?"

There was a pause. A pause that told me everything I needed to know.

"Emily, these things happen," she said finally. "Karen is our biological daughter. We have to support her happiness."

"And what about my happiness?" I demanded, my voice rising. "What about the fact that my fiancé cheated on me with my own sister?"

"Don't be dramatic," my mother snapped. "You're young. You'll find someone else. Karen has been through so much. She deserves this."

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. My own mother was choosing Karen over me. Again.

"Seven o'clock. Don't be late. And Emily? Wear something appropriate. Karen will be there with Louis, and we don't need you causing a scene."

She hung up before I could respond.

I sat there staring at my phone, numb. Then I called Tasha.

"Hey girl, what's-Emily? Are you crying? What happened?"

I told her everything. The condoms. The fight. Louis's hands around my neck. My mother's phone call.

"That's it," Tasha said, her voice fierce. "I'm coming to get you right now. Pack your things. You're not staying in that apartment another night."

"I have to go to the memorial," I said dully.

"Then I'm coming with you. And Emily? Wear your sexiest dress. If they want to humiliate you, let's show them you're not broken."

After we hung up, I dragged myself off the floor and into the bathroom. My reflection shocked me. My eyes were red and swollen. My mascara had run down my face in black streaks. And there, on my neck, were the clear imprints of Louis's fingers, already turning purple.

I took a long shower, scrubbing my skin until it hurt. Then I stood in front of my closet, looking at my clothes. Most of them I had bought with Louis. Worn on dates with Louis. Chosen to please Louis.

Not anymore.

I pulled out a deep blue dress I had bought months ago but never worn. Louis had said it was too revealing, too attention-seeking. It was perfect.

I did my makeup carefully, covering the bruises on my neck with concealer. By the time I was done, you couldn't tell I had spent the last hour crying on the floor.

Tasha arrived just as I was putting on my heels.

"Damn, girl," she said, looking me up and down. "You look amazing."

"I look like I'm trying too hard," I said, doubt creeping in.

"You look like a woman who knows her worth," Tasha corrected. "Now let's go show your family what they're missing."

The drive to my parents' house felt both too long and too short. My stomach was in knots. I didn't know if I could do this. Didn't know if I could face Karen and Louis and my parents all at once.

"You can do this," Tasha said, as if reading my mind. "And remember, if it gets too bad, we leave. Just say the word and I'll get you out of there."

I nodded, grateful for her friendship. At least someone was on my side.

The memorial service was already in full swing when we arrived. The house was packed with people I had known my whole life. Business associates of my grandfather. Family friends. Distant relatives.

And there, right in the center of it all, was Karen. Looking radiant in a black dress that probably cost more than my rent. Louis stood beside her, his hand on the small of her back.

My mother spotted me immediately. Her eyes narrowed as she took in my dress, and I saw her lips press into a thin line of disapproval.

She made a beeline for me.

"Emily," she hissed when she reached me. "What are you wearing?"

"A dress," I said flatly.

"You look like you're going to a nightclub, not your grandfather's memorial. Go upstairs and change into something from my closet."

"No," I said.

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"I said no, Mother. There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing."

People were starting to stare. My mother's face flushed with anger.

"We will discuss this later," she said through gritted teeth. "Go stand somewhere out of the way. And try not to embarrass this family more than you already have."

She turned and walked away before I could respond.

I felt tears threatening again, but I blinked them back. I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

"Come on," Tasha said, linking her arm through mine. "Let's get some air."

We stepped out onto the balcony. The cool night air felt good on my flushed face. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

"You okay?" Tasha asked.

"Not really," I admitted. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come."

"Hey," Tasha said firmly. "You have every right to be here. This is your grandfather's memorial too. Don't let them make you feel like you don't belong."

I nodded, but I wasn't convinced.

That's when I noticed him. A man standing at the other end of the balcony, partially hidden in shadows. He was tall, broad-shouldered, wearing an expensive-looking suit. And he was staring right at me.

Our eyes met, and something electric passed between us. Something that made my breath catch.

He raised his glass slightly, a small smile playing at his lips. Then he turned and disappeared back inside.

"Who was that?" Tasha whispered.

"I have no idea," I said. But my heart was racing, and for the first time all night, I wasn't thinking about Louis or Karen or my mother.

I was thinking about the mysterious man with the knowing smile. And wondering if I would see him again.