Renting Billionaire Boyfriend

Renting Boyfriend - Chapter 2

Raisel’s POV

“I agree,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, yet Soren’s smirk told me he’d heard. The paparazzi swarmed us, their camera flashes blinding, questions bombarding me from every direction. My head swam with dizziness, but Soren’s arm was already around my waist, pulling me close, shielding me from the onslaught.

“Mr. Soren Dalton, we need to ask Mrs. Raisel Warden some questions!” one of them shouted, his voice cutting through the chaotic din.

Soren didn’t even flinch. “You will not be asking any questions of my girlfriend,” he said firmly, his voice a calm but commanding presence. His eyes found mine, steady, and without a second thought, he guided me into the sleek, black limousine. I could still hear the frenzy outside, the scandalous murmurs, the flashing headlines practically writing themselves in real time. Wife caught in scandal… Secret affair exposed… Beloved couple torn apart… Their words buzzed in my ears, but Soren gently covered them with his hands, blocking out the noise, the venom.

The car lurched forward, though I could still feel the paparazzi scrambling to follow us, their cameras glued to the windows, desperate for a shot.

“You’re safe now,” Soren whispered, pulling his hands back as the car sped away from the madness.

“Thank you,” I managed, my voice breaking. Tears stung the back of my eyes as I stared at him, a faint smile playing on his lips. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to me.

“Did you really not know?” he asked gently, referring to Alaric and Davina—the affair that had ripped my life apart.

I shook my head, sniffling, my hands trembling as I dabbed at my wet cheeks. “I ignored all the signs,” I admitted, my voice barely holding together. “I thought he was just stressed from work, from his new project. I didn’t want to believe—” I swallowed, choking on the words. “I never thought he’d humiliate me like this.”

Soren stayed quiet, his gaze distant, as if trying to piece together something I couldn’t see.

“I should call Hazel,” I said after a long pause, wiping away another tear. “I can stay with her tonight.”

“No,” Soren said, his voice firm. “You’re my girlfriend now, remember? And you see that car behind us? They’re not giving up. The paparazzi would be all over you if you went anywhere else.”

My chest tightened with anxiety. “What are we supposed to do then?” I bit my lip, the weight of it all suffocating me. I’d been in the spotlight before, but this felt different—ugly. After marrying Alaric, I had tasted public attention, but this…this was a nightmare. Before him, my life had been simple. Quiet. It was just me and my aunt before she passed. Now, I was caught in a media storm I didn’t ask for.

Soren’s eyes softened, and he gave me that old familiar grin. “You stay with me, Raisin.”

I groaned at the nickname, which only made his smirk grow. “Soren, I can’t stay with you,” I protested weakly.

“Why not? You didn’t mind me calling you my girlfriend in front of the entire press. Now you’re making a fuss?” His tone was teasing, but I knew he was serious. “I’ll call Hazel. She can come to my place.”

I nodded, realizing he was right. Where else would I go? The home Alaric and I shared was out of the question. The thought of facing him—and her—made my skin crawl. There was no way I could walk back into that house, into that life. Not after tonight.

Soren’s penthouse was sleek, luxurious, but somehow still had the warmth of a place lived in. The sprawling city skyline glimmered through floor-to-ceiling windows, the light from outside casting long shadows across the room. He punched in a code, unlocking the door with practiced ease. This wasn’t the Soren I remembered—the carefree, nerdy guy from college. He’d changed. His face was sharper, more refined, his body lean but muscular, his movements deliberate. He shed his blazer, the tailored fit clinging to his broad shoulders. Even his hair, soft brown and perfectly styled, added to his polished look. He wasn’t the boy I remembered—he was very much a man now.

I quickly glanced away as my phone rang. It was Hazel. I texted her the address, my fingers fumbling over the keys.

“When did you move back to New York?” I asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from the mess that was my life. “Last I heard, you swore you’d never come back. Your family business is in London, isn’t it?”

Soren didn’t answer right away. He crossed to the bar and poured two drinks. Handing me one, he raised an eyebrow as I downed it in a single gulp.

“You remember what I like,” I murmured, impressed—and a little touched—by the small gesture.

Soren stayed silent, watching as I poured myself another drink. He’d always been quiet, the type who held his thoughts close, only speaking when he had something worth saying.

“What are you going to do, Raisin?” he asked softly, his eyes searching mine.

I grimaced. “First of all, stop calling me Raisin—it’s Raisel,” I snapped, but there was no real bite in my words. He only rolled his eyes, unbothered. “Second, I’m going to divorce that bastard.” My voice trembled as the anger surged again, hot and raw. “No, not just divorce him. I’m going to destroy him. I’ll ruin him for what he’s done to me.” My anger bled into a bitter laugh before dissolving into sobs. The pain of betrayal, the humiliation, it all came crashing down, harder and harder, until I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Soren’s gaze softened, but before he could respond, the doorbell rang. Hazel rushed in, her arms wrapping around me tightly as I broke down all over again.

“I told you,” I sobbed into her shoulder. “I told you he wouldn’t cheat, and now look at me.”

Hazel rubbed my back soothingly. “We’ll get through this. First, you need to divorce that asshole,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. I nodded, sniffling as she stepped back.

Then she turned her attention to Soren, narrowing her eyes. “And you—pulling the college stunt, pretending to be her boyfriend? Really?” she scolded him. “The internet’s already losing its mind. Some people are on Raisel’s side, but others are calling her a gold-digger, saying she’s after your money.”

“Why is my name the one getting dragged through the mud?” I snapped, the injustice of it all igniting the anger inside me again.

Hazel sighed. “Alaric has a good PR team. He knows how to play the media.”

“He’s not my husband anymore,” I said coldly, my jaw tightening.

Hazel raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Calm down.”

Soren’s voice broke through the tension, steady and composed. “What do you want, Raisel?” He looked at me with that same intensity, as if he was ready to follow my lead.

I met his gaze, my tears mixing with fury. “Revenge,” I said quietly, the word dripping from my lips like venom. Alaric had only seen one side of me—the doting housewife who never pushed back. But there’s another side of me, one I’m not sure even I fully understood until now. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.

Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “How are you planning to pull that off?”

I looked at Soren, remembering the ridiculous ‘rent-a-boyfriend’ stunt from college. Between the two of us, I knew he’d be up for it.

“You’re going to help me, Soren,” I declared, my voice bold despite the alcohol buzzing in my system. “You’re going to be my rented boyfriend again—only this time, we’re going to turn the drama Alaric started right back on him. I’m going to make his life a living hell.”

Soren smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m in.”