At the table tucked away in the farthest corner of the restaurant, Robert leaned forward, his hands folded loosely on the table, his expression calm but tinged with irritation.
Sky stared at him, barely hearing his words, because her brain was fried.
Literally fried.
Because her fiancé was sitting right in front of her, sweet, perfect, caring, thoughtful, telling her about some family scandal while she was sitting here with billionaire c*m still dripping between her thighs.
Jesus. f*****g. Christ.
Robert let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples.
“You wouldn’t believe the kind of mess my uncle has gotten himself into,” he started, shaking his head. “The man is sixty-two years old, Sky. Sixty-two. And instead of retiring quietly or, I don’t know, finding a hobby, he’s out here… impregn
