Love Game With The Rebel Billionaire

I heard him laugh again, his voice growing louder with each passing second.

"Since when did you start believing things were impossible, Sapphire?" he asked, his tone mocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful, sexy, rich... and feisty." "Shut the fuck up," I shot back without hesitation.

I swear I heard him groan faintly. A chill ran through me as my imagination conjured what he might be doing while talking to me. "Damn. You're turning me on, just like the old days," he whispered.

I quickly climbed the stairs. I decided to change my approach. If I couldn't force him to move, I'd be the one to close the distance. "Now, look to your right."

I froze mid-step at his command, immediately turning my gun toward the direction he indicated.

My heart nearly stopped when I saw him standing there, leaning casually against the wall.

He wore a black tank top and faded jeans, a smirk on his face as he raised his phone.

My hands trembled so much that I almost dropped both my gun and phone. Fuck. I couldn't pull the trigger.

Ash...

They looked so eerily alike. Every detail-from the build of their bodies to their voices-was identical.

"It's unsettling, isn't it?" he said, running a hand over his face without breaking eye contact. "How does it feel? Do you still hate me?" "Fucker. I know your secret," I growled, glaring at him.

He laughed, fueling my frustration. His mocking tone chipped away at my patience.

"Do you think it's a mask? It's not." His words made my brow furrow. "This is my face now."

I ended the call, shoving my phone into my pocket as I steadied the gun with both hands.

His statement confirmed it. This wasn't just a mask anymore.

He had fully replicated Ash's face. It reeked of insecurity, and I could feel it even from this distance.

I knew it. This wasn't about Ash-it was about me. He wanted to take me down.

"Soon, you'll come to me willingly," he said with unsettling confidence. "You'll follow me without me even asking."

"That won't happen."

I told myself I could figure this out. No matter how similar they looked, there had to be a flaw in the replication.

Every copy has a weakness, something that sets it apart from the original.

The question was, how could I uncover his true identity when he had Ash's face?

"Are you sure?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You can't even tell us apart."

His smirk widened, knowing he had me under his control.novelbin

"Stop." My grip on the gun tightened.

My breathing grew heavier, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I wanted to move forward, to get closer, but my body refused to obey. "I'll kill you," I said, trying to convince myself as much as him.

"You'll kill someone who looks like your lover?"

I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. I had to show him I wasn't the same person I used to be... but I failed.

When I opened my eyes, he stood there, unfazed, smirking. He gestured to where the bullet had hit, knowing full well I couldn't shoot him as long as he wore Ash's face. Ash was both my strength and my weakness.

"Stop fighting me. It's a losing battle for you."

Those were his final words before he turned and walked away. I couldn't stop him. I didn't have the strength or resolve to act.

Now that I had seen him, I felt more powerless than ever. I had waited long for this moment, only to lose control when it mattered most.

I used to think that doubting Ash was the most foolish thing I'd ever done. But now, another thought plagued me.

It couldn't be true.

Could it?

I killed him years ago... didn't I?

***

"ONE MARGARITA, please."

I was perched on a high stool. Honestly, I felt this overwhelming urge to get wasted tonight. My mind was so screwed up it was messing with my sanity-hard.

It was better to let the alcohol hit me than lose my mind over what happened earlier.

But I decided against repeating the mistake I made last time. I didn't want another pounding headache, and I definitely didn't want to look powerless or vulnerable again.

"Pardon, ma'am?" the bartender asked dumbly as he leaned closer to hear me better.

I fought the urge to smack him with the wine bottle next to me. Instead, I closed my eyes tightly and rubbed my temples.

"I said margarita," I repeated coldly. "Do I have to say it again?"

Why do I keep running into bartenders like this? It reminded me of the one where I went before. Were they testing my patience?

"S-Sorry." He averted his eyes and prepared my order.

"Damn people," I muttered, kicking the stool next to me in frustration.

It helped ease my annoyance a bit, but as the events from earlier replayed in my mind, I felt like I was on the brink of losing it.

I crossed my legs and turned to watch the women on the dance floor. They were so stunning that men flocked to them after just a few moves. Either they'd make out on the spot or rent a room to have sex. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if there were a live show going on in places like this. I'd already overheard moans and kissing noises on the sidelines.

"Here you go, ma'am."

I turned to the bartender as he handed me my drink. Maybe I'd down three glasses before finding someone to fuck.

It had been too long since my last orgasm. The stress from the past few days had been overwhelming, and I desperately needed someone to bring me some pleasure.

I smirked at him and took a sip of the drink. The bitterness and sweetness of the margarita woke me up. Finally, I'd made the right choice.

"Hi, baby."

I was lost in thought when a voice interrupted me. I looked up to see a man in his 40s, wearing a checkered shirt with three buttons undone, black faded jeans, and white sneakers.

I didn't care what he thought of me as I sized him up from head to toe.

I immediately noticed the wedding ring on his finger. Fucking cheaters. They deserved to have their balls kicked until they were crushed.

Luckily, I'd kicked the stool away earlier. He tried to set it beside me, but I stretched my leg out and rested it on the chair he was holding.

I caught him staring at my leg, his eyes traveling upward. He even gulped, and I swore I could see his boner from where I sat.

"I'm not interested," I said curtly and ordered another margarita.

At least the bartender was quicker this time-he got my order with just a glance at my raised glass.

"Would you like me to buy you a drink?"