Page 20 of Big Billionaire

I step in, and the doors slide shut with a metallic click, trapping me in the confined space with him.

“Well,” he drawls as I step in. “If it isn’t Daddy Dearest. Or should I say…Lena’s savior?”

I narrow my eyes. “Careful, Logan.”

“I told her to watch her back,” he mutters with a careless shrug. “Guess she didn’t take me seriously.”

I clench my jaw, the muscle ticking. “Are you saying you had something to do with all of this?”

“What if I did?” Lucas asks with a scoff. “What are you going to do about it?”

My voice is low, lethal. “Don’t mistake my silence for weakness.”

Logan chuckles, a mocking sound that grates. “Touchy, aren’t we? Almost like you’ve got something to hide.” He tilts his head, studying me with sharp, malicious curiosity. “Wait—” His smirk falters into something darker, crueler. “Have you fucked her?”

I clench my fist, resisting the urge to ram it into his face.

My son searches my face for a few seconds, and then his eyes light up with sick realization and a spark of jealousy. “Oh, you have.” He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. “God, that’s rich. She wouldn’t spread her legs for me, so she moved on to my father. How pathetic is that?”

My warning is quiet, razor-sharp. “Don’t.”

But he doesn’t stop. He leans in, his sneer deepening. “You think she’s special? She’s just a desperate little dancer who knows her only chance at keeping that scholarship is warming your bed. You’ll see. She’ll bleed you dry, old man.”

Something primal surges within me, but I curb it. I step closer, invading his space until his back is pressed against the mirrored wall. “You will never speak her name again. Not like that. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

“You’re seriously going after her, aren’t you?” he asks with a defiant grin. “My sloppy seconds. You’ll ruin everything just to—”

My hand shoots out before he can finish, grabbing the front of his suit jacket and slamming him back against the mirrored wall. The glass shudders. His smirk falters.

“Listen to me,” I snarl, my face inches from his. “Stay. The fuck. Away from her. If I even hear you’ve breathed in her direction, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life. You understand me?”

His eyes flash with something—fear, anger, maybe both—but I don’t loosen my grip. Not yet.

Finally, he scoffs, trying to cover his unease with arrogance. “She’ll realize what you are eventually. Old. Obsessed. Pathetic.”

I loosen my fist in his jacket, letting him see the disappointment in my eyes. “No, Logan. You are the pathetic one. How haven’t you realized that?”

The elevator dings again. The doors open. I release him with a shove, watching him stumble before composing himself, his glare sharp but shaky.

“Stay away from her,” I repeat, my tone final. Then I step out without looking back.

In the lobby, my assistant scurries toward me, tablet in hand. “Mr. Blackwell, there’s an urgent issue with the—”

“Not now.” My voice cuts like steel, and she stops dead in her tracks. I don’t break stride.

I push through the glass doors, stride across the pavement, and slide into the back seat of my car. “Drive,” I order the chauffeur.

But the ride doesn’t last long. My patience snaps two blocks later. “Out,” I bark. The driver pulls over in a panic, scrambling out. I slide behind the wheel myself.

I need speed. I need the wheel in my grip, the road under me, and only one thought pounding in my skull. Lena.

I slam my foot on the accelerator, and the city blurs past. I don’t care about red lights, about horns blaring as I push well past the limit. All I care about is getting home. To her.

My chest tightens with the need to see her. To hold and reassure her. To make sure she’s safe.

I pull into the driveway and jump out of the car, my pulse hammering. But the house feels wrong. Too still. Too quiet.

I storm inside. “Lena?” My voice echoes through the halls.