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The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress

The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress

Romance
last updateLast Updated : 2025-08-18
By:  Lily Grayson Ongoing
Language: English
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Synopsis

First-Person POV

Drama

CEO

Arrogant

Heir/Heirness

Betrayal

Forgiveness

Hate to Love

Sophie Laurent had everything until the Blackstones destroyed her world.   When her wealthy father was framed for embezzlement and forced to suicide by Arthur Blackstone and his brother Marcus.Sophie's life shattered. The Laurent empire was stolen, her name dragged through the mud, and she was left with nothing but burning hatred for the Blackstone dynasty.   Now Damien Blackstone, the ruthless heir to the empire that ruined her, offers a devil's bargain:   "Be my mistress for six months, and I'll give you back your father's company."   Sophie accepts but this is no simple transaction. She has other plans to   Uncover the truth about her father's death  and destroy the Blackstone empire from within   she wants to make Damien pay for his family's sins   Yet as she infiltrates Damien's world, Sophie discovers shocking truths.  Damien was just a pawn in his father's games   The embezzlement scheme goes deeper than she imagined   Someone is watching them someone who will kill to keep the past buried   When Sophie uncovers proof that   Damien knew the truth all along, she must choose to either to complete her revenge and destroy the man she's come to love   Or risk everything to expose the real killers knowing it may cost both their lives  

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120 Chapters
Chapter one
Sophie's POV The Vanderbilt Hotel's grand ballroom smelled like money and malice. Champagne and ambition hung thick in the air as New York's elite swirled beneath crystal chandeliers that dripped light like liquid diamonds. I pressed myself against a marble pillar, my thrift-store heels—dyed black to hide the scuffs digging into the Persian rug worth more than my yearly rent. Every nerve in my body screamed that I didn't belong here. But I had to come. The invitation had arrived like a cruel joke slipped under my studio apartment's door: *Blackstone Charity Gala - Honoring the City's Finest. .*Black Tie Required* My hands had shaken so violently when I opened it that the heavy cardstock nearly slipped from my fingers. Blackstone. The company that had systematically dismantled my father's life. The empire Damien Blackstone built on the bones of men like him. And yet, here I stood. Because tonight's silent auction included Lot #217: my father's final masterpiece, "Winter's
last updateLast Updated : 2025-06-30
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Chapter Two
Sophie's POV The boardroom table was a slab of black marble, polished to such a mirror finish that every man seated around it could admire his own reflection while pretending to care about mine. The cold surface reflected the chandelier above, fracturing its light into dozens of glittering shards that danced across the walls like trapped fireflies. I sat perfectly still in my chair, back straight, hands folded on the table, watching the men who thought they could take everything from me. Their tailored suits and practiced smiles couldn't hide the hunger in their eyes—the kind of hunger that came from decades of waiting in the shadows for their moment to strike. Damien leaned back in his chair, the leather sighing beneath him, letting the silence stretch like a noose. He wanted them to sweat. Wanted them to remember who had rebuilt this empire from the ashes of his father's failures. The tension in the room was so thick I could taste it—coppery and electric, like the moment befor
last updateLast Updated : 2025-06-30
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Chapter Three
Sophie’s POV The private elevator smelled like betrayal and expensive cologne—a suffocating blend of sandalwood, leather, and something darker, something that coiled in my lungs and made it hard to breathe. I stood rigid in the corner, his jacket still draped over my shoulders, the fine Italian wool scratchy against my wine-stained skin. The mirrored walls reflected every flaw—my smudged mascara, the way my ruined dress gaped where the straps had stretched from Daniel’s rough handling. And him. Always him. Damien Blackstone leaned against the railing, watching me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. His gaze was a physical weight, tracing the curve of my throat, the tremble in my fingers. "You didn’t thank me," he said, voice smooth as aged whiskey. The elevator hummed as it climbed the Blackstone Tower, the numbers flickering too fast. I wiped at the dried wine on my chest, the stain a burgundy Rorschach blot of humiliation. "For what?" My voice was raw. "Turning my pub
last updateLast Updated : 2025-06-30
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Chapter Four
Sophie's POV The cold came first. Not the controlled chill of Damien's penthouse climate system, nor the crisp autumn air beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. This was the lethal cold of honed steel pressed against my jugular - so sharp it burned like fire where it touched skin. I didn't need to look down to identify the blade. I'd memorized its contours last Tuesday when I'd found Damien cleaning it at his desk, the ritualistic precision of his movements revealing more than any confession could. Damascus steel, hand-forged, with those hypnotic rippling patterns that caught light like liquid. Now those same deadly waves kissed my throat with silent promise. "Last chance to walk away," Damien murmured, his breath warm against the shell of my ear. The contrast was dizzying - the heat of his body pressed against my back, the glacial bite of the knife at my front. His free hand settled at my waist, pulling me flush against him in a cruel parody of intimacy. Through the thin silk
last updateLast Updated : 2025-06-30
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Chapter Five
Sophie's POVThe penthouse doors hissed shut behind me like the jaws of a beautiful trap sealing forever. I stood frozen in the foyer, my fingers tightening around the handle of my battered suitcase the last relic of my old life. Before me stretched an expanse of polished marble so pristine it mirrored the glittering city skyline twenty-three stories below. Vaulted ceilings arched overhead like the ribcage of some enormous beast, swallowing the sound of my hesitant footsteps. Every surface gleamed under recessed lighting, sterile as an operating theater and twice as cold. "Five million dollars", I reminded myself, dragging a fingertip across the lacquered console table. Not a single fingerprint remained in my wake. "Six months. Then you burn this place to the ground." "Mrs. Blackstone." The voice could have frosted glass. I turned to face a woman carved from ice and wrapped in a Chanel suit two shades darker than her soul. Silver hair pulled into a punishing chignon stretche
last updateLast Updated : 2025-06-30
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Chapter six
Sophie's POV The emerald Dior gown slithered over my hips like liquid envy. "Christ," Damien muttered from the doorway as the stylist fastened the clasp at my nape. His reflection in the vanity mirror was all sharp angles and restrained fury the same way he'd looked for three days straight since I'd stabbed his surveillance system. I turned slowly, letting the dress's thigh-high slit gape dangerously. " Is there any problem, husband?" His jaw flexed. "Yes the neckline." The stylist froze. I trailed a finger along the diamond choker, his "wedding gift" that doubled as a GPS tracker. "Too vulgar?" I asked while still gazing in his direction."Too transparent." He stepped close enough that his breath warmed the hollow of my throat. "You're not here to be liked, Sophie dear. You see my darling wife,he said with a smirk on his face.“You're here to be seen." “To be noticed.” He added.I smiled sweetly and adjusted the emerald between my breasts to the exact shade of Daniel Carte
last updateLast Updated : 2025-07-03
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Chapter seven
Sophie's POVRain furiously lashed the penthouse windows as I pried open the dusty crate marked “Laurent Holdings Liquidation”. The movers had delivered it this morning with a smirk, another one of Damien's twisted gifts. Inside I found : Father's favorite Montblanc pen (cap cracked) A framed photo of us at the Hamptons (glass shattered). And his ledger. The fucking ledger. I smiled sheepishly while holding it up into the air. “Blackstone Acquisition File #1147 stamped across the cover in blood-red ink.” My hands shook as I flipped to the last page to the numbers that had killed him. “Margin call: $42 million due by 5PM Friday. Collateral: Primary residence, art collection, daughter's trust fund. Authorization: D. Blackstone”The signature glared up at me, bold as a gunshot. * Two Years Earlier* I found him in his study at 3:17AM. Papa sat at his desk, the ledger open to the same damn page, his tie loose and a bottle of Macallan empty beside him. The Wall S
last updateLast Updated : 2025-07-03
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Chapter eight
Sophie's POV **1:07 PM at THE PLAZA HOTEL** The Plaza’s Grand Ballroom smelled like gardenias and generational wealth. I adjusted the straps of my cream Valentino dress, another "gift" from Damien’s endless parade of designer armor as a waiter refilled my champagne flute with liquid gold. Across the room, my husband held court with a circle of silver-haired investors, his smile as calculated as the Fibonacci sequence. And then I saw *her*. A manicured hand on his forearm. A Herve Leger dress clinging to curves that screamed “personal trainer”. It was none other than “Victoria Kensington”. Socialite. Hedge fund princess. And according to Page Six in the files, the woman Damien had spent three years not marrying was her, before our little arrangement was arranged. She whispered something in his ear that made his knuckles whiten around his tumbler. When she caught me staring, her lips curled into a smirk that could curdle milk. I raised my glass in mock salute. “Game on,
last updateLast Updated : 2025-07-03
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Chapter nine
**10:17 AM at BLACKSTONE HEADQUARTERS** The conference table was a fifty-thousand-dollar slab of polished ebony, cold enough to leave frostbite on my bare thighs. Twelve billionaires in Brioni suits stared down their noses at me, the decorative wife who'd been trotted out like a show pony for this merger pitch. "Smile and sip your champagne, Sophie," Marcus sneered when I arrived. "The adults are talking."I smiled alright. The same way a guillotine smiles at a neck. Marcus cleared his throat now, sliding a document toward Reynolds, the silver-haired vulture from Hong Kong who held the fate of the deal in his liver-spotted hands. "Page fourteen outlines the Laurent Gallery rebrand. We'll scrap the current exhibits for more lucrative ventures." The air left my lungs in an instant. My father's gallery. The place where I'd taken my first steps between his easels, where the smell of turpentine and oil paints still haunted my dreams. Reduced to a bullet point in a PowerPoint p
last updateLast Updated : 2025-07-03
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Chapter ten
Sophie's POV Damien's office looked like a mausoleum designed by a sadistic minimalist. I trailed my fingers along the sterile white walls, the only "art" a depressing black-and-white triptych of skeletal trees that screamed corporate ennui. Even the air smelled like disinfected sadness, a crisp blend of lemon cleaner and repressed emotions. "This is worse than I remembered," I muttered, unrolling the first canvas with a snap. Mrs. Whitlock's voice crackled through the intercom like overcooked bacon. "Mr. Blackstone's car just left the airport." "Perfect."Forty-five minutes for me to work my magic . And forty- five minutes until the Ice King returned to his frozen kingdom. I snapped my fingers at the team of movers. "The corpse trees first. Then the monochrome abomination over Chesterfield." As they dismantled Damien's bleak empire, I unveiled my arsenal: First was the "Blood Meridian" – A Rothko-esque oil painting with crimson so deep it looked freshly spilled Next w
last updateLast Updated : 2025-07-03
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