I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 175

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I didn’t open my eyes. “What kind of something?”

His mouth brushed mine. Light pressure, nothing more.

Then his lips moved again, more deliberately this time.

His hand hovered near my hip but didn’t touch.

The slower he went, the harder it was to think.

My fingers curled in the sheets.

My breath caught halfway out of my throat.

Ashton finally let go after what felt like forever.

He tugged the covers down a little and nudged my shoulder.

Oxygen–deprived, I felt more lethargic than before. “Not getting up. Let’s just sleep a bit longer. I’m not going to the studio today.”

I shoved my face against his chest and curled closer

He let out a sharp breath near my ear.

“You can continue to use the bed, but I demand more payment.”

I mumbled, “What do you want then?”

He rolled over me in one movement.

The mattress dipped under his weight, and when I blinked up, his face hovered inches from mine.

His eyes looked darker than usual, almost black.

I could feel the pressure of him everywhere, especially below the waist.

Sudden clarity hit.

I shoved both hands against his chest.

“Alright! I’m up! I’m getting up now! I wasn’t planning to steal your bed, Jesus—

I scrambled out from under him, caught my foot in the duvet, tripped halfway to the floor, and bolted for the bathroom.

The door slammed behind me a second later.

I heard his laughter.

By the time I came downstairs, it was past noon.

Lunch was already on the table.

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Ashton sat across from me, cutting his steak like he hadn’t just tried to ravage me upstairs.

I stabbed a cherry tomato and glanced over at Geoffrey. “When’s the heating getting fixed?”

Geoffrey hesitated.

His eyes flicked to Ashton, who didn’t even pause chewing.

Geoffrey cleared his throat and said, “Mrs. Laurent, we’re still waiting on a few parts. They need to be shipped in from Italy. Could take a week, maybe longer.”

I dropped my fork. “You’re telling me the radiator needs Italian imports now?”

He nodded. “This heating system isn’t standard. It runs on a closed–loop radiator circuit, built for high–pressure flow. If the internal stabilizers aren’t calibrated with the original manufacturer’s components, the system becomes volatile…”

Geoffrey droned on, throwing in half a dozen words I didn’t recognize.

Something about a thermostatic valve, a bypass manifold, and–Christ, was he talking about glycol now?

I stopped listening after thirty seconds.

My brain drifted straight into panic–planning mode

Ashton was back. Which meant I had to move out of his room.

On paper, we were married.

In practice, we’d just started dating.

Sharing a bed with him was premature. And dangerous.

Especially with the way he kissed.

What if he decided to take things further?

What if I didn’t have the willpower to say no?

My face went hot.

My spoon slowed halfway to my mouth.

Ashton scooped salad onto my plate with the serving spoon. “What are you thinking about?”

“What? Nothing.” I shook my head too fast and laughed like an idiot. “Just zoning out.”

looked up and caught Geoffrey’s eyes.

He smiled and launched straight back into it.

I caught phrases like “family–run factory” and “founded in 1907,” and something about northern Italy’s copper industry.

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I held up both hands. “Okay, okay, I get it. It can’t be rushed.”

Geoffrey nodded. “Exactly.”

I pushed back my chair. “Okay. I’m full. Completely stuffed. I need to swing by the studio. Gotta run.

11

I grabbed a napkin, wiped my mouth, and bolted before anyone could stop me.

I told them I was going to the studio, but I ended up at Sugar & Whim, wedged into the booth across from Yvaine, clutching a hot cappuccino.

Hotels felt too obvious.

And I wasn’t sure how Ashton would react to it.

Oakwood was out too.

Priya was living there and there was only one bedroom.

That left me with one option.

“Let me stay with you for a bit?” I asked.

Yvaine smacked me on the forehead as an answer.

“Are you thick? You’re the one who said you’d give the relationship a try. Now the universe throws you a setup with mood lighting and a king–sized bed, and you want to leave?”

I rubbed my temple. “I just—”

“No. Shut it. Do you know how many women would stab each other with heels just to be in your shoes right now? I used to worry that ghost–of–girlfriend–past would come waltzing back into his life. But now he’s made it very clear he wants YOU. So you need to hold your ground. Keep your name on that mailbox. And for the love of God, stop acting like a coward.”

I groaned. “It’s not about the bed.”

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