Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 877

A teasing voice drifted from the back of the crowd.

“Well, James, you really don’t waste any time.”

Dean strolled out, his smile all twisted arrogance, like he was a hunter enjoying the sight of a trapped animal.

“It’s a pity, though. You’re never going to meet the person you came for. This place is a trap, built just for you.”

He’d figured it out the moment Teresa and Andrew left. Dean knew they’d start asking questions, and the only one reckless enough to storm the island for answers was James. So he’d sent Emmy off in a helicopter, hiding her on an even more secluded island. Then he waited, laying this perfect trap, certain James would walk right in.

Seeing the fury carved into James’s face, Dean’s smile only grew. Tonight, James wasn’t getting out alive.

James clenched his jaw, his eyes icy and sharp as knives.

“Dean, what did you do to Emmy?”

There was no way Emmy would stay out of contact for this long, not with her skills. She would have found some way to send a signal, to reach out for help. Something must have happened. Dean had either locked her away somewhere, or—he couldn’t let himself imagine the rest. The thought cut through him, cold and deep.

Dean watched the pain and anger flicker across James’s face. He looked smug, speaking slow, like he had all the time in the world.

“She’s my wife now. Of course I’ll take good care of her. Love her, even.”

He glanced at James, his voice turning mocking.

“As for you, maybe it’s time to join your Jamie, wherever she is.”

He laughed and flicked his hand.

His heart clenched tight. She’d lived here, he could feel it. But there was no time to dwell. Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs.

James’s eyes went hard. He shoved over a heavy wooden desk, dragging it in front of him as a barricade.

Bullets hammered the desk, wood splintering, chips flying everywhere. Behind cover, James checked his wounds quick. Blood leaked from his shoulder and his leg, but nothing vital was hit. He could still fight.

He pulled a combat knife from his boot, gripping it tight and cold. His gaze locked on the door.

Two mercenaries burst in, barely registering the scene before James moved. He shot out from behind the desk like a shadow, knife flashing in the dim light.

The first man went down before he could make a sound. The second’s eyes went wide, finger tightening on the trigger...