Don’t Fall for the Billionaire Lover



Chloe lingered at the entrance for a moment, hesitating. Just as she was about to step inside, a waiter came by, pushing a cart loaded with a fruit platter. Chloe noticed some paper and a pen on the cart, so she quickly tore off a sheet and scribbled a note. The waiter looked a bit confused but assumed Chloe was a guest from room number 8.

"Are you a guest here, miss?" he asked.

Chloe, seizing the opportunity to get in, nodded quickly. "Yes, I am. Let me take this fruit cart. I'll bring it in myself."

Though he seemed a tad skeptical, the waiter didn't think too much of it and watched Chloe push the cart through the door before turning away.

As soon as the door swung open, the room buzzed with life. It was a spacious private room packed with people. Every corner was alive with activity- some playing mahjong, others belting out songs, and a few tossing dice and playing cards over by the sofas.

Chloe took it all in with a swift glance, recognizing several of the young elites from Eldridge City. Among them was a familiar face, Devon. Wasn't he Connor's childhood buddy? Chloe maneuvered the cart further inside, scanning for Connor, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, her eyes landed on her intended target.

Her gaze fixed on a group lounging on the sofa in the rest area. Most of them had companions draped over them, but one man sat alone, right in the center of the large sofa. His presence radiated an air of undeniable authority. He sat with perfect posture, his brows slightly furrowed, and wore an expression that suggested he wasn't particularly pleased with the world.

The most striking feature was the noticeable scar on his forehead. It was him-the guy those two in the hallway were scheming against. Kash.

For reasons she couldn't quite

explain, Chloe's heart did a little flip

е

when she saw his face. There was a strange sense of familiarity, like meeting someone you're sure you've seen before, even if it's the first time. Maybe it was his cold, steely demeanor that set him apart. Others seemed to keep their distance.

A girl curled up in Devon's arms pouted, "Devon, why doesn't he ever smile?"

Devon, wearing a playful grin, replied, "Kash isn't like us. Go on, try to make him laugh. If you succeed, this Patek Philippe is yours."

The woman's eyes practically

sparkled as she eyed the expensive

watch on Devon's wrist. Eagerly, she stood up her long, slender legs

striding across the room towar

Kash. But before she could settle down beside him, Kash, without

even looking up from his phone, cast a chilly glance her way and said, "Leave."

His voice was quiet, devoid of emotion, yet it carried a weight that was hard to ignore. The woman, taken aback, quickly retreated, returning to Devon's side with a pout. “He's so mean,” she complained.

Devon chuckled, gently pinching her chin. "You've got guts for trying. Kash isn't like Isaac. You and your sweet talk don't stand a chance with him.”

Nearby, a man in a sharp suit poured

a glass of wine and extended it

wine ar

towards Kash. "Kash, we've all got immense respect for your years in the military, protecting the country. We go way back with Isaac,

practically grew up to Fire

his big brother, so you're ours too.

We're here to give you a proper welcome, so how about a drink?" Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.