Billionaire's Bounty Cost Of Love And Revenge novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97

Taylor’s POV

The dimly lit lounge was a haze of cigar smoke mingled with the sultry hum of jazz playing faintly in the background.

Women clad in undersized lingerie and six–inch heels sashayed across the room, their movements slow and deliberate as they entertained the leering eyes of the men sprawled in oversized chairs.

I stepped inside, my heels clicking against the marble floor. The dress I wore was exquisite, a deep emerald green that clung to my curves and complemented my eyes, plunging low in the back and high at the thigh.

It was the kind of dress that commanded attention. My jet–black hair cascaded in waves down my back, and I wore the brightest red lipstick. One could never go wrong with red lipstick.

I spotted him immediately. Don Mariano. The big man at the center of the room, surrounded by his cronies like a king on his throne. He was over sixty now, his face weathered and craggy, with skin the color of aged leather.

His eyes, however, were as sharp as ever, dark and penetrating beneath heavy brows. He had a face only a mother could love. I wondered how I had tolerated this man, let alone dated him.

His presence commanded attention and fear; I could see it in the way all the men acted around him, like perpetual lapdogs. I rolled my eyes far back, and

then our eyes met.

Mariano rose as soon as he saw me. He was large and imposing, his broad frame wrapped in an impeccably tailored suit. But his movements carried a weight to them, he was quickly showing signs of aging.

He stubbed out his cigar, the motion deliberate, and his lips twisted into a smirk that made my skin crawl with utter disgust.

“If it isn’t la mia regina (my queen),” he opened his broad arms to embrace me.

I leaned in for a hug, regretting it the moment those hands wrapped around me. He smelled of sweat and cigarettes. I felt the steel he always kept in his jacket pressed up against me, a subtle reminder of where I was and the man I was dealing with.

I was treading scary waters; all the men here were violent people, and the only reason I was able to get an audience with the Don was because of our shared past together.

I flashed him the sweetest smile I could muster and stepped away from him. “I trust you’re well, my Don?”

He growled, a low sound in his belly, and grinned at me. “You know, I like it when you call me your Don…”

I was stepping further away from him when he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, his hand gripping my ass cheek through the thin material of my dress.

Eyes turned in our direction. They were alert, their weapons within reach, waiting for an order from their boss.

I stuck my nose high in the air, unwilling to show fear, especially not in front of him. It was one of the many reasons he liked me, and we had done this dance one too many times.

Those dark, menacing eyes bored into me, and then they softened, breaking into a smile. He glanced at the other m valued guest.”

He let go of me. “Why are you here, Taylor?”

Relax, boys, la mia regina is my

Taylor. I wasn’t his queen anymore. He was cutting straight to the chase. I straightened up. “I need a favor from you, my Don.”

He took a while to respond. “Let me get this straight, bellezza,” he said, his voice grave and thick with his Italian accent. The word rolled off his tongue like a taunt, beautiful in a way that felt like mockery.

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Chapter 97

I relaxed. At least we were back to the use of pet names.

“You’ve come back to me to ask for favors?” His brows perked up in surprise.

I smiled, a perfectly poised curve of my lips that betrayed nothing of the disgust boiling beneath my skin. I sat down gracefully in the chair opposite him, crossing my legs and leaning back as though I were at ease. Inside, my stomach churned.

Being here again, in this den with men who had done vile things my mind couldn’t even begin to fathom, felt like crawling back to the vomit I’d vowed never to touch again.

I swore I’d never stoop this low. But here I was, playing the part of the supplicant, swallowing my pride for the sake of one thing. One flimsy thing.

Ivy.

She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve my sacrifice. The thought of her smile, sickly sweet and almost too perfect, tightened my chest.

She was the reason I was here, groveling to a man whose touch still haunted me in my nightmares. A man who had terrorized me in every way imaginable.

I didn’t tell Max I was coming. He wouldn’t have understood. He would have pleaded with me not to go, not to hurt ivy in any way. He was misguided in his foolishness that Ivy still loved him, that they could get back together.

But Max was a coward, too afraid to face the world head–on. I wasn’t like him. I couldn’t afford to be.

Mariano slumped back into his chair, gesturing for a drink. A young woman in a slinky red dress appeared at his side, placing a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes never left me.

“I had big hopes for us once, Taylor,” he said, his voice oozing nostalgia laced with bitterness. “You were something special. Smart, beautiful, and dangerous. You had the world in the palm of your hand. And then you broke my heart.”

He raised his glass, taking a slow sip as though savoring the memory. I didn’t flinch, didn’t react. Let him wax poetic about the past. It didn’t matter anymore. I’d buried that part of me long ago.

He continued to yap on, recounting dreams of what we could have been, as though I hadn’t been the one to tear those dreams apart.

I didn’t care. I tuned him out, letting his words fade into the background as my thoughts drifted back to Ivy.

I pictured her face, perfect and polished, plastered on the covers of magazines, staring back at me with that same self–satisfied smirk. She had everything, beauty, fame, fortune.

And no matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to get out from her shadow. All my plans to humble her had proved futile. As if things weren’t bad enough, my career was struggling because she had let out the information about the affair with Max.

My deals were crumbling. I was getting fewer invites to events. No one wanted to be against the perfect love story of Asher and Ivy. A love story I had poked holes in, and yet it refused to crumble.

I came here for her. It was an act of a desperate woman

“You’re not even listening, are you?” Mariano’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I blinked, refocusing on him. flickering in their depths. “You always did have a way of shutting me out when it suited you.”

“What do you want, Taylor?” he asked finally, leaning forward.

The moment stretched. The room fell silent. I could feel the weight of his gaze, the anticipation thick in the air.

es narrowed, amusement

I smiled then, a wide, maniacal grin on my lips. I leaned in, matching his intensity, and whispered, “How do you destroy a model’s life?”

For the first time that night, Don Mariano seemed taken aback. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin as though considering the question.

C

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