Swoony Billionaire: The Kline Brooks Collection by Monroe Max

Author:Monroe, Max
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Tapping the Billionaire, Tapping Her, and Be My Billionaire Valentine
Publisher: Max Monroe LLC
Published: 2021-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

TAPRoseNEXT (7:00PM): You’re a very nice guy, but I can’t continue talking with you anymore. I’ve gotten more serious with the man I’m seeing and this just doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry. Good luck with everything, Ruck.

BAD_Ruck (6:45AM): I get it. I do. But I think we should meet in person, just the two of us. Please, Rose.

I white-knuckled my phone as I stared down at the screen in disbelief.

I don’t think I breathed for an entire minute. I felt like someone had reached down my throat and pulled my heart straight out of my body.

My eyes closed of their own accord, my mind in self-preservation mode. My heart roaring in my ears, I took a cavernous breath and found the strength to open my eyes again, hoping—no, praying—I had missed something along the line.

But I hadn’t. I fucking hadn’t. The screenshot, Kline’s response, it was real. One-hundred percent real.

I scrubbed a hand down my face, pressing into my lids to stop the tears wanting to spill down my cheeks. A shaky sigh escaped my lips as I tried to focus through the blurry mess of emotions.

His message was timestamped from this morning at 3:45 a.m. Pacific.

My throat constricted, cheeks straining in agony to stop myself from losing it.

I won’t cry. I will not sob in front of a plane full of strangers.

This morning. He sent that message in between playfully asking me questions and making love to me. Or was it faking love to me? Because that was what it felt like now. I’d never felt so betrayed, so utterly devastated in my entire life.

The pain built in my chest, burning like I had swallowed hot coals. I was hanging by a thread, my free hand gripping the armrest in a pathetic attempt to hold myself together.

“Miss, we’re about to take off. You need to turn your phone off now.”

I pulled my eyes from the screen, finding a flight attendant with long blonde hair and a pink smile standing above me.

All I could do was stare at her. Honestly, I didn’t even know what she was saying to me.

“Your phone?” She nodded to my hands.

I followed her eyes and realized what she was asking. “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, and with shaky hands, turned it off.

I felt like I was a passenger in a crash-and-burn landing, going from the highest high, only to be catapulted into the lowest of lows.

Memories flooded my mind.

The night at the Hamptons, when I had given myself to him.

I choked on a sob as a few tears slipped down my cheeks. I swiped at the liquid emotion, telling myself I could do this. I could get through this flight.

A man across the aisle glanced in my direction, his head tilted to the side in concern.

Oh, God, don’t look at me like that! I wanted to scream at him. I did not want pity. I couldn’t handle someone recognizing that I was falling to pieces. That would for sure make it impossible to hold this in until I was somewhere private.

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