Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 82

Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire

Chapter 82

Hannah’s POV

As they assisted me onto the yacht, Brian rushed to my side, his voice low and urgent. “You’re pregnant?”

I nodded. “Two months along.”

“Holy shit,” Brian whispered, looking genuinely stunned. “Does Finn know that?”

I didn’t answer directly, instead asking him to take me to Finn. As we navigated through the crowded yacht interior, the heavy smell of alcohol and smoke made my stomach turn. Finally, we reached a quieter area at the back of the yacht, where Finn was asleep in a corner of the VIP lounge, his custom shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his face relaxed in sleep.

A blonde model was draping a blanket over him, her movements possessive and intimate. She looked up as we approached,

her eyes narrowing at the sight of me.

“Who’s she?” she asked Brian, her hand still resting on Finn’s chest.

“I’m his assistant,” I said, suddenly questioning Victoria’s information. This scene was a far cry from “never having women

around him.”

The blonde’s lips curved into a dismissive smile. “He doesn’t need an assistant here, honey.”

I stared at her hand on Finn’s chest, a strange feeling twisting in my gut that I refused to acknowledge as jealousy.

The blonde model’s hand lingered on Finn’s chest, her possessive stance making it clear I wasn’t welcome. Brian stepped forward, positioning himself between us.

“Who’s she?” the blonde asked, her eyes narrowing at me.

“I’m his assistant,” I repeated firmly.

Brian gently guided me away from Finn’s sleeping form. “Let’s give him some space. He’s been… exhausted lately.”

As we moved to a quieter corner of the yacht, Brian glanced back at the VIP area where another woman was already being shooed away from Finn by the protective blonde.

“Listen,” Brian said, lowering his voice, “this circle is just for fun, you know. Don’t get too eager to be part of it. In the end, you’ll be the one getting hurt.”

His warning sent a chill down my spine, but I stood my ground. “I’ll wait until the party’s over. Then we can talk.”

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Chapter 82

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Brian shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He handed me a glass of water before returning to a group of models lounging on the deck. I found a quiet spot near the back of the yacht, away from the thumping music and raucous laughter. From my position, I could still see Finn, who

hadn’t moved from his corner.

The music grew louder, the bass vibrating through the floor. I dug into my purse and pulled out my noise–canceling headphones–a small luxury I allowed myself for grading papers in coffee shops. Putting them on, I settled into the relative quiet, watching the party unfold like a silent film.

Time passed slowly. I observed the complex social dynamics playing out before me–the jockeying for position, the fake laughter, the calculated touches. It was like watching a nature documentary about exotic creatures with dangerous mating

rituals.

My attention snapped back to Finn when I saw the blonde model becoming increasingly bold. She’d been hovering protectively around him earlier, but now her behavior turned possessive. Leaning over his sleeping form, she pulled a lipstick from between her barely–covered breasts. With practiced precision, she drew a heart on his exposed skin, just at the collar of his shirt. Then, she leaned in, preparing to kiss him.

In an instant, Finn’s hand shot up, grabbing her by the hair. His eyes were open, cold and alert, showing no signs of having just woken. He yanked her head sideways and plunged it into a nearby ice bucket.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

When he pulled her head back up, blood streamed from her nose, mixing with the mascara running down her face. The woman’s scream pierced through my headphones. She stumbled backward, sobbing and clutching her face, before running

out of the VIP area.

The party fell silent. Everyone froze, drinks midway to lips, conversations hanging unfinished in the air. Finn sat up, his expression murderous as he surveyed the crowd. No one dared to meet his gaze.

I removed my headphones and approached him cautiously. He turned to me, his eyes narrowing in recognition.

“Let me help you,” I said quietly, pulling an alcohol wipe from my purse. I reached for his collar where the lipstick heart stood out starkly against the white fabric.

He didn’t stop me as I carefully cleaned the mark, my fingers working methodically against the stain. The silence around us was deafening, every pair of eyes in the room watching our interaction.

“Can we talk again about getting board support?” I asked softly, focusing on the task at hand rather than meeting his gaze.

“How convenient,” he sneered. “One day your courage fails you, the next you’re eager to talk. Make up your mind, Hannah.

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Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted