MR BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET: CHASING HIS IRRESISTIBLE WIFE

(JARED'S POV.)

I stood with one foot perched on the first of the short flight of steps leading up to Arielle's front porch. It felt like the door had hit me right in the face. And the blood vessels on my skin seemed very willing to visibly portray my embarrassment. And it had to be his fault. Dwayne.

I had just known about him a few hours ago, and he was already being a thorn in my flesh.

I turned around hotly on my heels and marched towards him.

"Now you see what you've done? All you had to do was get away from us, disappear from our lives, but no, you're so jealous you won't grow a brain!" I yelled in fury.

But he didn't answer. As soon as Arielle was out of sight, he fell silent, expressionless. The black suit he wore seemed to blend into the night, as though he was part of the shadows. The cold, intimidating presence I had felt at the dinner table returned, suffocating the air between us.

What the hell is wrong with this man? Was he acting all this long drive? For what? To make Arielle happy? I felt my anger boiling like I was being teased as a fool.

"Speak up, damn it!" I hissed, my voice sharp with fury. "Who the hell are you? How did you get into my family? What do you know about us?"

His reply was cold, too composed for my liking. "Don't put this on me, Jared. She's pissed because of you. You treated her wrong, made mistakes that cannot be forgiven. Don't act like you own her. She's not anyone's property. And if you ask me, the only thing she deserves is better than what you gave her."

I saw red. My blood was boiling, and I was about ready to punch something, preferably his smug face. He wasn't answering a single one of my questions!

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!" I spat. "She's the mother of my son. It's you who needs to stay the hell away."

He gave me a look that was a strange mix of amusement and irritation, as though I were a child throwing a tantrum. "Look, baby brother-"

"We're not brothers! I don't bloody know you from anywhere," I cut him short.

He let out a sharp laugh. "You think I want to be your brother? Become a Smith? Hell no. Here's how this is going to play out. You go back to your mother, and I'll head back to my hotel. My business is with Nana Jean and Arielle, not you."

"If you say her name one more time..." I said through gritted teeth.

Dwayne smiled, lips curling into a mocking grin. "What, are you jealous I know her better than you? Does it make you feel small, knowing your ex-wife is closer to me than you?"

I could hear the taunt in his voice and it worsened my already pent up anger.

"Look. I just need you out of our lives. What would that cost?" I asked.

Dwayne's grin only widened. "How about this," he said, a devil-may-care gleam in his eye. "Let's go have a drink. We'll talk about it, huh? What do you say?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and gritted my teeth in contemplation before letting out an exasperated sigh.

He raised an eyebrow and turned to lead the way out of Arielle's block.

I turned back to look at the windows, nursing the slightest hope that I would find someone looking down onto the street. I let out a defeated sigh and set my jaw in distaste as I turned to follow Dwayne.

For someone who had just entered our lives, Dwayne seemed oddly familiar with everything around him. He moved through the bar with the ease of someone who'd been here a hundred times before, making me wonder how long he'd been monitoring Arielle without me knowing. That thought churned uneasily in my gut.

We made our way to a high-end bar a few streets away from Arielle's place. I slid onto a high stool beside Dwayne at the counter, watching him signal the bartender as if he owned the place. My gaze flickered suspiciously to the bartender-was he another one of Dwayne's eyes and ears?

"Evening, gentlemen," he nodded professionally at us. "What would you be drinking tonight?"

"Scotch neat," Dwayne answered and turned to me.

"Just a beer," I answered. I had to keep myself as sober as possible to have a reasonable conversation with the man.

"Suit yourself then," Dwayne shrugged.

I studied him, trying to figure out what made him tick. He wasn't like me. There was no heat in his voice, no rawness in his eyes. He was cool, collected-too damn calm for my liking. He was already texting someone as we waited for our drinks, like this whole encounter was nothing more than a casual chat.

"How do you know Arielle so well?" I finally blurted out my thoughts. I had not meant for the words to stumble out that way. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of pride he wanted.

"You wanted to know how much it would cost to keep me out of your lives," he said, not even looking up from his phone.

I cocked my head to the side, keeping my face as firm as possible so he got the hint that I was not having the conversation on his terms.

He let out a sigh and whipped his head backwards to pour the drink into his mouth. "What use is that going to be to you? More please," he slid the glass over to the bartender.

"Of course, Sir," the bartender answered offhandedly, before catching himself. He looked from Dwayne to me, his face awash with anxiety.

So my intuition was right.

"You see what the hell I'm saying? You've been digging around my family for God knows how long. I want to know why!" I demanded, pounding my fist on the counter. I got a couple of irritated grunts and snide remarks in response to my gesture but I kept my gaze fixed on Dwayne.

He barely flinched. He shot the bartender a look that made the man scurry off, his face pale with fear. Then, turning back to me, he raised an eyebrow in casual amusement.

"You have a very cheeky tongue, my friend," he finally turned to address me.

"We're not friends. Don't make that mistake. I need answers. And you're gonna give them to me," I stated firmly, doing nothing to take down the hostility in my tone.

"Foolishness like yours gets a man killed. It's the very reason why you lost her to begin with. You talk more than you think and a man who does that would always lose," Dwayne said, his tone calm and neutral.

"And I suppose you're the better man, huh? You pay people to spy on others. How exactly does that make you any better than myself? The hell how do I know you didn't have a hand in the divorce to begin with?" I roared indignantly.

"You're making some very heavy allegations, Jared. And don't make the mistake of comparing yourself with me. We're two very different men. What I do, I do because I must and because I truly care. You're just a foolish prick who feels threatened by the presence of a better man," Dwayne shot back with that icy calmness. I couldn't take it anymore this time.

"I'll show you who the man is sucker!" I roared as I lunged at him.

The suddenness of my attack seemed to catch him unawares and sent him hurtling backwards in his seat. He was a large man so the fall would have been very heavy... Except he had the agility of a cat.

Before his back hit the wooden board floors of the bar, he overturned my body's weight and I found myself on the ground instead. Of course, I had to be involved in a fight with a ruthless Mafia thug.

The room was alight with buzzing murmurs, most likely gossip from the crowd of onlookers inside the bar. Everyone sized us both up and I could see the way they looked at me with pity, already judging me out of the fight before it even began. was hit with a wave of jealousy which

spontaneously mixed with ich

already bruised ego and Pbit the inside of my mouth in defiance. I struggled out from underneath him and picked up a bottle from one of the tables. novelbin

"You'd be wise to give up this fight before you make a fool of yourself," he warned.

"You're the fool!" I spat and charged for him with the bottle.

I aimed to hit him on the head but he dodged with his insanely quick reflexes and had his arm twisted around mine. He easily disarmed me of the bottle and leaned in to whisper into my ear. "Arielle's heart is a jewel you can never win back. Take your defeat in peace, Jared."

"Liar!" I roared and headbutted him. For a couple of seconds following my attack, the room around me went blind and I saw tiny flashes of light on the edges of my vision.

He seemed unfazed by my attack and held out his forearm. Before my eyes, he broke the bottle on his extended forearm, his lips stretched out in a devilish smirk. There was a collective gasp of wonder from the other customers, some of whom had started to leave the bar. Only the more drama loving fellows stuck around for the rest of the show.

"I warned you, Jared. This is a fight you can't win. I'll give you the chance to turn around and accept your defeat. I'm the stronger man and I intend on proving that to Arielle. You've had your chance. Now take a bow and leave," he said.

"Shut the hell up!" I roared. "I'd sooner die than let you take her from me!"

I picked up a stool lying in the corner

and hurled it at him. I used the diversion as a ruse and charged for him simultaneously. But he seemed to be expecting every move I made and before our bodies could make contact, I tripped on his extended leg and landed face first on the floor. I felt sharp blinding pain shoot up my head with the intensity of a million tiny needles.

Bits of broken bottles decorated the side of my face and my blood mixed up with the residue of alcohol pooling on the floor.

The flickering sound of camera shutters also caught my attention and I realized that a great deal of people had caught the entire scene on camera.

Completely livid with the thought of losing to Dwayne, I cussed under my breath and grabbed his ankle violently. He had let down his guard now, so the move took him by surprise. I pulled him down to the floor and he landed on his back, in the remainder of the broken bottles and booze.

I quickly rolled away from him and rose to my feet. For a man who had just taken a bad hit, he stood up too quickly. His lips stretched in a smile, friendliness.

It was that of a man who had misjudged his opponent's strength. We squared each other, chests heaving from the effort of our encounter, until he gave it up and went back to the counter.

but it held no warmth

"Give me that refill," he said to the bartender, who obliged with shaking hands.

I walked over to the counter and settled into a different high stool far away from Dwayne's. I looked around the bar at the mess we had made.

"It's on the house," the bartender announced with a nervous smile.

Dwayne dropped his glass down on the counter with a loud clang and rode to his feet.

"Goodnight, little brother," he said and turned to leave the building.

I watched him walk out through the door with a slight limp and I looked down at my hands which were still balled up in fists by my side. My shirt was stained with blood. As much as I hated him, I couldn't deny it: I didn't win. But neither did he. I let out a satisfied smile.