MR BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET: CHASING HIS IRRESISTIBLE WIFE

(ARIELLE'S POV)

In the following days, things kept falling into place. My new life was taking a new shape soon, and I couldn't be more excited. The house, the restaurant, everything was coming together for food. Just as Maverick and I were building towers with his blocks, my phone buzzed.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

"Girl! Guess what?" Ashley's voice screamed through the speaker.

I laughed. "What now?"

"Guess!" she insisted.

"Did you get a promotion?" I teased.

"I wish! No, it's bigger. You'll love this," she giggled. "Your house is ready!"

"Oh my God! Are you serious?" I squealed.

She went on about the newly installed chandeliers, plush furniture, and the kitchen she knew I'd die for. As much as I wanted to joke about her theatrics, her excitement mirrored my own.

"You'll love it. Trust me," she assured. But her tone suddenly shifted. "But hey, I really think it's a good time for you to come back. You know there's something else..."

""What is it?"

"I heard some weird stuff going on in Italy. Mafia stuff," she whispered, lowering her voice like someone could overhear us.

I rolled my eyes, amused. "Ashley, come on. We've been over this-no one's after me."

"No, seriously. My guy? He's got connections with some insiders, and they're saying there's a power struggle because some old Mafia boss just died. And get this-he showed me pictures of the guy's stash. Wine, jewelry, gold, like something out of a movie." I laughed. "Ashley, I'm pretty sure I'm not on the mob's radar. And wait...are we talking about Keith? The one you called an annoying brat last week?"

She huffed. "Fine, mock me all you want. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Before I could respond, a knock on the door interrupted us. "I have to go. I think Dwayne's here. I'll call you later."

"Oooh, Dwayne, huh? Talk soon!" she teased before I hung up.

Maverick raced to the door, his voice high-pitched with excitement. "Uncle Dwayne!"

Dwayne entered, bringing in a gust of cold air. His usual warm smile was in place. However, there was something different today, like something...heavier in his eyes. I suddenly noticed his face was abnormally pale.

I smiled and crouched down to his level. "Hey, remember that drawing you made for Uncle Dwayne? Why don't you go grab it and bring it to him? I'm sure he'd love to see it."

Maverick's face brightened as he let go of Dwayne. "Oh, yeah! I'll go get it!" he exclaimed, running off to his room.

As soon as he disappeared, I straightened up and turned to Dwayne, my tone shifting.

"Ok. What happened?"

His emerald eyes flickered with surprise for a brief moment, then softened as he stepped closer. He extended his hand and forearm toward me, both wrapped in a makeshift bandage. "Just a little accident," he said, his tone casual, but his eyes lingered on mine as if testing my reaction. "Cut myself handling a massive fish at work."

I frowned, instinctively reaching for his hand. "Seriously? How could you hurt yourself like this, working in the kitchen? Are you a child?"

"Only when it comes to you." His

voice was low, teasing, but there was something simmering beneath the playful words. His gaze locked on mine, and for a second, I

ver

swallowed hard, pushing down the

flare of irritation.

"Come on," I snapped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the kitchen. Tried not to care about his hitched breath.

I grabbed the first aid kit, feeling his

presence toom behind me, close enough that I could feel the temperature of his body. I glanced over my shoulder. His eyes were still on me en

"You need to be more careful Dwayne." I signed. "This isn't a joke."

"I think I like it when you scold me." His lips quirked into a slow, lazy grin.

Ok Arielle, don't try to reason with the patient.

I huffed, trying to focus on cleaning his cut, but my hands trembled slightly. "Hold still," I muttered.

He winced as I pressed the antiseptic against his skin, but his gaze never left my face. "Mad at me?" His voice was soft, a little rougher than usual. "Should I be?" I shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know." He shifted, his arm brushing the curve of my waist now. His thumb lightly grazed the inside of my wrist as if testing how much of me he could touch without me pulling away. "I don't know why I can't help teasing you when you are angry."

I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible."

Dwayne suddenly asked, "So, when do you plan to leave?"

"Next week."

He fell silent for a moment, the tension between us thickening. Before either of us could speak again, Maverick's shout echoed from the other room, shattering the moment.

I pressed the bandage down with more force than necessary, trying to regain some control. He chuckled quietly. "See? You're always so good to me."

I crossed my arms. "Maverick's waiting for his uncle. Don't push your luck."

Dwayne reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin. "Am I?"

I sighed, trying to keep my composure. "When will you grow up, Dwayne? I'm leaving Italy, and you kno—"

"Ouch, my hand!" he exclaimed, wincing dramatically.

Startled, I moved closer to check. But when I saw the amusement in his eyes, I realized he was perfectly fine just trying to derail the conversation. "You..." I started, but gave up with a quiet laugh. "Forget it. I can't stay mad at you."

Dwayne's grin softened. "I know."