Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Finn’s POV

From the moment I stepped out of the bathroom, I sensed her

presence. The slight catch in her breath, the subtle shift in the air

current, the faint scent of her shampoo–peach and something floral.

I didn’t need eyes to know she was staring at me. My hearing had

become unnervingly acute since the explosion, compensating for

what my eyes no longer provided.

I stood perfectly still, water droplets trailing down my chest, just a

towel wrapped around my waist. Waiting. Would she come forward to

help me navigate this unfamiliar room? The seconds stretched, and

she remained silent, frozen in place.

Of course. Even my so–called “assistant” was useless when it

mattered.

“Stop staring,” I said coldly. “I can hear you drooling from here.”

1–I wasn’t- she stammered, finally moving toward me. “Let me

help you to the bed.”

Her hand touched my bare arm, and something like electricity shot

Chapter 8

through me. Her fingers were soft, warm, nothing like the clinical

touches of doctors and physical therapists I’d endured for months.

This was different–gentle but firm, respectful yet confident. I hated

how much I noticed, how much it affected me.

I allowed her to guide me to the bed, though every fiber of my being

screamed against this dependence. Each step was a reminder of what

I’d lost–my independence, my power, my identity.

“You know,” she said as we reached the bed, “a walking cane might

help you move around more independently. I could help you learn-”

“A blind man’s stick?” I yanked my arm away as if she’d burned me. “I

don’t need that shit. If you’re not willing to do your job, just get out.”

The word ‘cane‘ hung between us like a slap. Weeks ago, I was the

youngest executive in Sterling Group’s history, overseeing

developments worth billions. Now this woman wanted me to tap

around like some helpless old man?

“That’s not what I meant,” her voice grew softer, retreating. I just

thought… never mind. I’m sorry.”

The bed dipped slightly as she sat beside me. Too close. Her warmth

radiated against my side.

Chapter 8

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” she said suddenly,

her voice stripped of pretense. “I’d be happy to be your eyes for these

five days. Whatever you need, just ask.”

I turned my face away, unsure how to process such straightforward

praise. Women had always complimented me, but usually with

agenda–laden voices, calculation dripping from every syllable. This

sounded… genuine. Dangerous.

“Who said I need your eyes?” I replied, but the edge in my voice had

dulled. I lay down on the bed, turning my back to her, feeling the

mattress shift as she adjusted her position.

My grandmother Victoria’s voice echoed in my head: “Finn, would you

really let your father’s mistress’s son inherit Sterling assets–assets

that include your mother’s portion? If you don’t agree to this

arrangement, I might as well hang myself outside your door…”

That manipulative old woman. To the world, she was the shrewd

matriarch who’d doubled the family fortune. To me, she was the

emotional terrorist who’d used the same suicide threats since I came

back.

I felt Hannah’s hand hesitantly reach for my waist, and I grabbed her

wrist instantly. Her pulse jumped beneath my fingers.

Chapter 8

“What do you think you’re doing?” My voice was tight, wary, yet

somewhere beneath the surface, anticipatory.

“I need to complete my assignment,” she said simply. “I only get paid

when I’m pregnant…”

The raw honesty caught me off guard again. No seduction, no

pretense. Just a transaction laid bare. It was both repulsive and

refreshing.

I released her wrist, fighting the desire her softness had awakened.

“You don’t have to do that. Stay here for the five days, then tell them

you didn’t get pregnant. I’ll make sure you get your money.”

I didn’t want to be a breeding stallion for the Sterling lineage. And I

didn’t want this woman–this strangely direct, warm–scented woman

-to force herself to bear my child for cash.

Silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken questions. Then came

the words that ignited my temper.

“Is it… are you gay? Is that why-

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Those damn rumors. They

followed me everywhere, whispered at meetings, laughed about at

parties, spread around like cheap talk.

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Chapter 8

My teeth clenched so tight they hurt. My skin felt hot, then cold. Even

here, in this bedroom, with this woman I barely knew, I couldn’t get

away from the lies people made up about me. The shame and anger

twisted in my stomach. I’d already lost my eyes, my job, my freedom-

and still, people weren’t done taking things from me. Now they were

trying to take away who I really am.

What hurt most was hearing it from her. This woman who’d just seen

me almost naked, who’d touched my arm, who just minutes ago

seemed different from others. She was just like everyone else–quick

to believe bad things about me.

I moved with the speed and skill that kept me alive in the fighting

pits. In one quick move, I flipped over and pinned her under me,

feeling her small body freeze up. My face hung just above hers, my

hands holding her wrists.

“Who told you that?” My voice had dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“N–no one specifically,” she stammered. “It’s just something I heard

around-”

“Bullshit! I know exactly who it was. That idiot Amy, right?” The fury

building inside me had nowhere to go. “You’re all the same–believing

whatever garbage people spew about me!”

Chapter 8

Those rumors. Started by Olivia Grant after I rejected her advances,

spread by business rivals who couldn’t compete with me directly.

But Hannah’s betrayal felt different, more personal. I’d offered her a

deal, shown a sliver of decency, and she’d responded with this insult.

My control snapped. I crushed my mouth against hers, partly to

silence her, partly to prove a point. But the moment our lips

connected, something else took over.

Without sight, every touch felt stronger. Her lips were so soft against

mine, warm and giving. The light smell of her skin–peaches and

flowers–filled my nose. I could taste mint on her breath.

Under my hands, I felt her smooth skin. Her heartbeat was fast under

my fingers. I could feel tiny bumps rise on her arms as I moved my

hand over her shoulder. The heat of her body pressed against mine

was intense.

Damn it, everything about her was soft–her lips, her skin, the small

sound that escaped her throat. That little gasp vibrated against my

mouth, sending shivers down my spine in a way I’d never experienced

before my accident.

I pulled back slightly, my hand moving from her wrist to her breasts,

feeling her heartbeat thundering beneath my palm. Reason was

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Chapter 8

rapidly giving way to something primal, something I hadn’t allowed

myself to feel.

“Still think I’m gay?” I growled against her lips, my hand sliding

lower.

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