Semua Bab THE BILLIONAIRE'S BARGAIN : Bab 1 - Bab 10

Carmilla leaned back in her office chair, the soft leather creaking beneath her. The phone was cradled between her ear and shoulder as she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the city pulsed with life, car horns blared, people shouted over the noise of construction, and somewhere in the distance, music drifted from a cafe patio. Normally, the chaos energized her. But today, it felt static. "I'm telling you, Mia, I'm done. These meetings, these investors... it's like I'm stuck on repeat," she said, rubbing her temple. “I don’t even feel present anymore.” Mia’s laugh came bright and clear through the phone. “Welcome to adulthood. And hey, it’s not just you, Cam. Even modeling gets exhausting when you're constantly trying to look better than someone two inches taller and five years younger.” Carmilla smirked. “You're still the best in the game, and you know it.” “Well, you’re still the most stubborn CEO I know. You just need a break. Maybe a spa weekend—me, you, and some ov

On the other side of the city, Mia sat before the vanity mirror, her long legs crossed, hands folded neatly in her lap. The soft hum of conversation drifted through the dressing room, barely registering in her ears. Her makeup artist dabbed foundation gently across Mia's flawless skin, chatting aimlessly about fashion trends and runway gossip. It was all part of her routine—sit still, look pretty, play the role. But today, Mia’s mind wasn’t in the room. Just days ago, a call from her friend’s assistant had shattered her world. Julian was dead. The words still echoed in her mind, sharp and surreal. Julian wasn’t just a friend—he was like a brother. And now, he was gone. Her chest tightened as she thought of Carmilla, the grief she must be drowning in. A soft sigh escaped Mia’s lips, unintentional but loud enough to cause the makeup artist to pause. “Is something wrong, Mia?” the woman asked gently, her brush still in hand. Mia shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “Let’s just fi

The grand entrance of the Harrington mansion stood silent and regal, cloaked in the heavy stillness that follows grief. As Carmilla's family stepped inside, they were met almost immediately by the hosts. Margaret Harrington, the matriarch, greeted them with a practiced warmth, her hand extended, her voice polished yet oddly hollow. “Welcome, dear family,” she said, her tone steeped in solemn courtesy. “We are deeply sorry for your loss. Julian was an extraordinary young man.” Carmilla’s mother, her face pale and drawn, managed a fragile nod as she accepted Margaret’s handshake. “Thank you, Margaret. Your support... means more than you know.” The lavish foyer filled gradually with murmurs as mourners approached the grieving family, offering condolences and fragmented memories of Julian. Carmilla stood quietly, her heart tightening with each mention of her brother’s name. Smiles tugged at faces, but they never quite reached the eyes. It was all ceremony something Julian had hated.

Carmilla and Mia sank into the plush cushions of the vintage couch. The air inside the house was calm, almost too calm, as if holding its breath around their conversation. "Thanks, Mia. You know it better than anyone," Carmilla said with a faint laugh, trying to mask the weariness in her voice. Mia smiled, but it didn’t last long. Her face quickly turned somber as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Cam... I’m really sorry I didn’t make it to Julian’s burial,” she said quietly, her voice thick with guilt. “I feel awful. Life’s been a mess, and I— I just couldn’t make it work. But that’s no excuse.” Carmilla's heart squeezed at the mention of her brother. The pain never fully left. It merely tucked itself away during the day and returned with full force at night. She gave Mia a small, understanding smile. “It’s okay. I know you would’ve been there if you could. Julian… he always liked you.” Mia exhaled, visibly relieved, though a trace of guilt lingered in her eyes.

Warm light spilled gently through the sheer cream curtains of the spacious bedroom, casting soft golden streaks across the marble floor and the edges of the king-sized bed. The soft rustle of linens accompanied Carmilla’s groan as she stirred awake, shielding her eyes from the rays that signaled the beginning of a new day, her first full morning as Mrs. Harrington. She slowly opened her eyes and turned her head toward the other side of the bed. To her surprise, Harrison was already awake, sitting up against the headboard, his face calm and content as he looked down at her. “Morning,” he said in a low, affectionate tone. “Did you sleep well?” Still groggy, Carmilla sat up, rubbing her eyes before offering a sleepy nod. “Yeah… I did,” she replied, her voice husky with sleep. As she stretched and yawned, a warm, savory aroma filled her senses—something rich, buttery, and undeniably inviting. Her stomach let out a small, traitorous growl. She blinked, eyes widening as she noticed a bre