My Billionaire Ex-Lover

The harsh clinking of the glass bottles should have been her first warning sign; it should have been the only one she needed.

When the man had entered the kitchen on stumbling legs, the young woman quickly placed herself in the furthest corner in front of the counter and folded her hands in front of her.

“Is there anything I can do for you, dear?” she asked.

The man only grunted. When he reached for the refrigerator door, she moved quickly, intending to reach into it and retrieve another cold drink for him—but her blood ran cold as he froze in front of it.

Her large hazel eyes widened as his thick hand pulled away from the handle of the refrigerator—wet and covered in soap suds. The woman looked down to her gloved hand, dripping cold water onto the floor – she still had her cleaning gear on. She had forgotten to wipe down the fridge door after stopping in the middle of washing the counters to put away the leftovers.

It happened before she could even blink—first the loud slam of the refrigerator door, so harsh it sent the appliance wobbling on its unstable legs, then that same hand grabbing at her throat.

“Mark,” she gasped out as she clutched onto his forearm. He threw her against the opposite island, and added a harsh slap across her face with a growl.

“You bitch,” he seethed. “Are you incapable of doing anything correctly?”

“I’m sorry, I was cleaning and—" But he stopped her before she could continue.

“Cleaning?” came his mocking response. “You call this filthy pigsty a clean kitchen?”

She shook her head as violently as she could.

“Look at it! Do you call this clean?” His voice was booming now, and the hair on her arms stood up. Something deep within her mind told her this was an overreaction, even for him—even over something like this. But she couldn’t find in her memory an explanation for how she might have angered him recently.

And then it came crashing down—“Maybe you wanted to save all your energy to clean that little apartment in Paris you intend to run away to.”

And, in that moment, she knew her death was sealed. Her blood didn’t even run cold; all she heard was that thrumming of her heartbeat.

He threw her onto the floor in front of the small coffee table, and she scratched her arm on the corner’s sharp edge. As she crawled away, he pulled out her plane tickets from beneath the pillow he had been laying on and threw them in her face.

“You were going to leave me,” he said in a whisper. “How could you, Holly?” And his voice broke on that sentence, as though he could never understand—but she knew he never would. She knew he would never want to.

She lunged for the door. But before she could make it, he yanked her by her ankle, causing her to fall on the hard tiled floor of the foyer. He turned her around and onto her back as he trapped her arms beneath his large legs. She stared up at his wide, ravaged eyes, and, just as she was about to shut hers against the oncoming assault—the doorbell rang.

They froze.

Mark pressed down onto her chest as he got up from her, a warning to tell her to stay quiet. She got up slowly as he did, and stood behind him as he opened the door.

Behind it stood a young woman, big eyes staring half lidded into Mark’s. The stranger looked past him at Holly, and, for a split second, flashed her a smile. Hope ignited in Holly’s chest; but she squashed it before it grew. She knew better than to believe in hope anymore.

***

As she peered into the house’s entranceway, Samantha felt anger rising in her at the sight of the battered girlfriend – “Holly,” according to her tip-off. But she composed herself and turned a charming smile to the man who had answered the door.

“Hello!” she said. “You must be the boyfriend!”

“Who are you?” The man—Mark—questioned stiffly. She could see his knuckles whitening on the door handle.

Samantha gave a dramatic gasp and placed her hand on her chest, then stared at Holly and—to the woman’s evident surprise—addressed her.

“You didn’t tell him about me yet? Why, I’m so hurt. And here I thought you and I were friends!” Holly’s eyes widened even further. Samantha pushed herself through the front door and threw her hands over Holly’s shoulders.

She needed to make this ruse work to get the woman out of there. She whispered into her ear quickly, “Go along with it.”

Then she turned to Mark. “Holly and I here have a date, you see—girl’s night. I’d invite you, but it’s strictly females only!” She crossed her arms over her chest in an affirmative gesture. “Isn’t that right?” she asked Holly, praying the shell-shocked woman could think on her feet.

Now Mark’s dagger-filled eyes shot toward his girlfriend, who quailed. Samantha wasn’t sure what would have happened if she weren’t there in that moment, but she could guess it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Finally, the frightened young woman spoke. “That—that’s right, dear. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner but it must have slipped my mind—I made plans earlier with...” She froze for a split-second, realizing she didn’t know Samantha’s name.

“Sally,” Samantha, sensing the mistake, quickly made to cover it up by introducing herself to Mark. “Don’t be too harsh on our dear here, it seems she’s forgetting a lot of things recently.”

Her laugh was cut off as her phone rang, and, before anyone could object, she answered it.

“Hm?” Samantha said into the phone. “Oh I’m just at Holly’s house.” She shot the woman a wink. “Her boyfriend is here too—Mark! Oh, you don’t know them—no, well maybe that’s because you never leave your apartment. We’ll just be gone for a few hours. Okay, three – yes, Dad.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “Well, you act like you’re my father, even he isn’t this strict about—okay, okay! I’ll see you later!”

Samantha watched as Mark’s jaw tensed. Her eyes rose from his set jaw to the way he still held a harsh grip on the door handle. She made sure to mention her exact location over the phone to her friend, knowing that men like Mark were too smart to try and do anything in this sort of situation.

“Well,” Samantha tapped Holly’s shoulder as she moved out of the house with the woman trailing behind her, “Shall we go have some fun?”

———————Tobias’ Cathedral Office

Father Tobias, the priest of the St. Mary's and Director of a women’s shelter, was losing his mind.

He had been entertaining a dear friend of his for the past half an hour, most of which he had done all the talking as the taller man sat and lounged on his couch and picked at the plant that sat next to him.

“Did you come here all the way from your office to assault my innocent flowers?” He asked his friend curiously.

The man in question ceased his movements on the flowers for a moment, and Tobias took in his friend’s presence. For as long as he had known him, Richard had always been a serious man; a sharp jaw always locked and set in a frown.

The man was much taller than his own large figure; even sitting down Tobias could easily understand anyone intimidated by his friend. He was an attractive man, taking his features from his father—a strong jaw and sharp features—where the only thing he inherited from his mother were her piercing silver eyes and obsidian hair.

For all the riches and power he held, it would be a shock to anyone if they learned how unhappy he was.

Richard stretched out his long legs and then placed one on top of the other, crossing his arms over a broad chest, and raised his brow at his friend.

“Am I not allowed to visit my favorite childhood friend?” the man asked.

“I’m your only childhood friend, no one else liked you.” Tobias tapped his fingers against his chin. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think much has changed since then.”

“Of course it has, you became a priest and I…”

“You took over a multi-million-dollar company,” Tobias finished for him.

“See? Growth.”

Tobias rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why no one likes you.”

“I don’t particularly care what anyone else thinks of me, Tobias.” He gave the older man a side-eyed look from where he sat on the couch, daring him to say something snarky in turn.

But the priest only kept quiet as his friend accidentally pulled off one of the leaves of his office lily plant from tugging it too hard. Muttering a soft apology and that he’d buy him a new one when he visits again.

The man stood up and began to pace around the room, looking at various items and books he’s seen before from his various visits to his friend’s cathedral.

And growing sick of the tense air in the room, Tobias groaned before he spoke, “Can you just ask already so we can continue this lovely visit of yours?”

The man paused for a second, and then murmured, “How is she?”