MR BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET: CHASING HIS IRRESISTIBLE WIFE
A fight between a man and a woman.

My head snapped back from the forceful impact of Arielle's punch, my calm demeanor briefly shifting as I tethered on the brink of losing my cool. But I steadied myself; the impact of her fist on my face was intense, and I could tell my face had turned red, but I have been in

(DWAYNE 'S POV) tougher spots before.

I didn't flinch, didn't retaliate. Instead, I just looked at her, an amused look in my eyes.

Arielle's skills were undeniable. Few women her age could maintain the regular exercise regimen she did, and it showed in her toned physique. Her arms were sleek and well-defined, her fists clenched in anger.

But I wasn't just any man. Standing at 6 feet 4 inches in height, my strength was matched only by my professional training -I was a Mafia enforcer, a man who thrived in control and power.

As I kept staring at Arielle, I couldn't help but be drawn in by the fire in her eyes. I had always been fascinated by strong-willed women, and Arielle was no exception. Her eyes blazed with fury, her face drawn in a determined expression.

When her fists clenched in anger, it didn't escape my notice. My instincts, judging from years of training, recognized the subtle sign in her body language. I noticed the way her weight shifted into the balls of her feet, the way her knees bent slightly as she prepared to strike. It was a subtle movement, but it spoke volumes about her intentions.

And just as she tried to throw a second punch, before she could react, I beat her to it with a flash of movement a blur in her vision, and suddenly, her body was weightless, twisted, and pressed against the bench.

It was swift, controlled, and almost effortless for me. Her back and joints were locked into place, leaving her no room to move. I could feel her heart racing, could feel the firm press of my body against hers.

"Arielle, I should be sorry for calling you an ostrich before. Because you're quite a wildcat, aren't you?" I whispered my voice low with amused curiosity, inches away from her ear. I could feel her body tense, her muscles straining against my grip.

But I held firm, refusing to let go. I could smell the sweet scent of her lavender perfume and feel the warmth of her body against mine. It was a heady feeling, one that left me almost breathless.

"What do you think?" I continued, letting the tension build. "Do you really think you can beat me up?"

(ARIELLE'S POV)

I glared at the texture of the bench beneath me, my breath coming out shallow. I wasn't one to cower easily, but this...this was different. The position was humiliating, and my pride was wounded. But I refused to let him see the extent of my discomfort. "Do you think you're very manly by fighting with a woman?" I spat out, my voice thick with frustration.

But he didn't budge, the pressure of his body still pressed against mine, causing a strange sensation. My breath caught in my throat, and to my surprise, tears welled up in my eyes-not out of anger, but out of sheer humiliation. My buttocks also felt a sharp pain, and I knew it was because of the force with which it had been pressed on the bench.

He must have noticed the tears in my eyes because his expression softened slightly, and he stepped back, lifting me with ease and letting me stand to my feet.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?' He asked, his voice now surprisingly gentle as if he was offering some form of sympathy.

I refused to answer him, my face heated with anger and embarrassment. I didn't want his sympathy, didn't want his comfort. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

Dwayne sighed when I gave no response, his hand reaching out to rest on my shoulder. The feeling sent shivers down my spine and it took a lot not to shrug him off. But he took the clue when he saw how my body tensed, and he withdrew his hand.

"Do you know," he began, his voice

conversational, "that even female special forces soldiers are discouraged from engaging in hand-to-hand combat with male? They usually use tools, because the difference in strength is too much. And close fighting between opposite sexes? It's often portrayed in the media as something... intimate," he said the last words with a chuckle, the sound low and knowing.

Just then, his hand on my waist slid down to wrap around my buttocks, kneading it slowly to ease the pain in it. His palm was so big, and the way it covered my butt cheek made my heart face and my face flush.

refused to acknowledge

implications of his word my

body betrayed me.

He shook his head with amusement, and his voice dropped to a lower tempo, almost a whisper. "Because intense physical confrontation between men and women is...different. It often leads to desire and arousal even."

I could barely keep up with his words as all I was concerned about was how long his fingers felt and how they proved into my buttocks through the thin gown, gently stroking it. I felt a strange convulsing sensation and couldn't help but gasp. "Let me go," I said, my face burning with embarrassment, my emotions swirling.

Dwayne released me, stepping back slowly as if giving me space to collect myself. His gaze lingered on me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. I felt a shiver run down my spine under his intense scrutiny, and my tears finally fell. They streamed down my face in hot, salty trails. They were not the tears of defeat or sadness, but of something I couldn't quite put my finger on, something I refused to acknowledge and recognize.

Dwayne's expression shifted, his expression softening as he stepped closer to me. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a warm, comforting hug.

He didn't speak for a moment, just held me, letting me cry out the confusion, the anger, the pain. His chest was solid and reassuring. As sobbed, Dwayne's hands stroked my hair, his touch h gentle and soothing. He murmured soft, indistinct words, the words tumbling out like a low rumble, vibrating through my body.

When my sobs finally subsided, I pulled away, wiping my tears with the back of his palm. I felt a knot of embarrassment twist in my stomach, for letting myself cry in front of him, but I refused to let it consume me. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "You owe me an explanation," I said, my voice hoarse but serious. I looked up at Dwayne, my eyes locking into his. I wanted answers.

He let out a long sigh, his eyes momentarily straying to the ground before he finally spoke up. His voice was unexpectedly somber, and it made me wonder what he was going to say.

"I never wanted things to be like this, Arielle," he said. "But..there are things about me, about my life, that you don't understand. Let me explain..."