Your Lips to Mine #1: The Billionaire's Sassy Girl

I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting the sleek black dress that I’d picked out after trying on at least six others. It wasn't really my thing to attend this kind of grand party. After all, I am not the type of person who likes this luxurious event. I would rather lay on my bed, wearing sweatshirts, and watch a movie. I sigh. Tonight’s charity gala wasn’t something I was looking forward to, but it came with the territory of my job. Why does she have to get sick at this time? Why? I wanted to smack my friend's head for getting sick at times like this, but what would it do? I sighed, smoothing a stray lock of auburn hair behind my ear. These events always felt like a chore—a room full of people pretending to care about each other while secretly calculating how they could get ahead. I really hate this. Just now I feel so tired; I haven't been to that party yet. “Alright, Aliyah, let’s get this over with,” I muttered to myself as I grabbed my clutch and headed out the door. T

The following week passed in a blur of meetings, deadlines, and the usual grind of work. I purposely did a lot to get Logan out of my mind. It's hard for me to get this person out of my mind. I tried to put Logan Pierce out of my mind, focusing on the work I was running. But no matter how hard I worked or how late I stayed at the office, he kept creeping back into my thoughts. Why can't I get Logan out of my mind? What is wrong with that man? His offer to collaborate lingered, tempting me even as I tried to convince myself that getting involved with someone like him was a bad idea. But sometimes things are really scary. Logan is not an ordinary person. He's a powerful man and it's really scary to fight him but I don't intend to be afraid of him either. It just makes me think. By Friday, I was running on caffeine and willpower alone. The office was mostly empty, with only a few stragglers finishing up their work before the weekend. I'm not used to leaving early. Not because of the a

I was buried in emails when a soft knock sounded on my office door. I looked up to see Logan leaning against the frame, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Busy?” he asked. “Always,” I replied, not breaking stride on my keyboard. “What’s up?” He stepped inside, looking oddly formal, even a little nervous, which caught my attention. Logan Pierce wasn’t one to fumble over words. He waited until I looked up, raising a brow, before he said, “I wanted to ask if you’d join me as my date for a fundraiser event tomorrow night.” His words hung in the air, and I blinked in surprise. “Date?” I repeated, as if testing the weight of the word. “Yeah,” he said, smiling. “It’s a charity event at the Met. Black tie, very much a who’s-who situation. I thought you’d make a better impression than anyone else I could bring.” He gave me a slight smirk, though I could tell he was waiting for my answer. I leaned back, crossing my arms. “And you think it’s a good idea to bring a colleague as your da

Aliyah knocked on Logan’s hotel room door, her heart pounding with worry. After the chaos at the event, she'd insisted on accompanying him back to his room, wanting to make sure he was alright after being drugged. Logan opened the door, looking slightly better but still affected, his gaze hazy yet intense. She helped him inside, guiding him toward the couch. But as she leaned in, she felt his body shift closer, his arm brushing against her back as he steadied himself. Then she felt it—a tension between them that was impossible to ignore. Logan’s gaze drifted down, his face inches from hers, his breathing slow and deliberate. “Aliyah,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Stay. Please.” Her body responded before her mind had the chance to reason it out. She could feel a warmth blooming within her, mirroring his intensity. She wanted to pull away, to tell him it wasn’t right, but something in her hesitated. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, raw and vulnerable, or maybe

I stepped into my father’s office, instantly comforted by the familiar smell of leather and mahogany. He was buried behind a mountain of paperwork, only glancing up briefly to acknowledge me with a warm smile. “Hey, sweetheart,” he called, waving me over. I leaned against the desk, watching him work, until he finally set his pen down and gave me his full attention. “So,” he began, eyes twinkling, “how was the event? Did you get any closer to Mr. Pierce?” His teasing tone held an underlying sincerity, and I couldn’t help but smile at how well he knew me. I rolled my eyes playfully but answered honestly. “It was good, actually. Logan’s… different than I expected.” I hesitated, my curiosity bubbling to the surface. “But, Dad, can I ask you something?” “Of course,” he replied, looking at me intently. I took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of concern and curiosity. “You know what people say about Logan, right? The rumors… Doesn’t it worry you? I mean, you’re not at all concerned