All Chapters of Engaged To The Ruthless Billionaire : Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

“Oh God, I had actually forgotten how annoying these events usually are,” Katherine said as she glided beside me with her third glass of champagne tonight. I nodded in agreement. Being one of the event planners for this charity gala meant that I had to observe every detail, ensure that the party was running smoothly, and ensure that the guests received the best service. When I first went into business, it felt weird working events I would otherwise be invited to as a guest. But I'd gotten used to it over the years, and the extra income allowed me a small degree of Independence from my father. “Tell me about it. I've faked so many smiles tonight, my cheeks are actually starting to hurt,” I replied as I scanned the opulent ballroom, my eyes darting from the Veuve Clicquot station to the swag table like a general surveying a battlefield.“Please tell me you saw that woman in the Valentino swipe an extra gift bag,” Katherine said, with an arched brow. “She looked like she was committi

The soft clink of silverware echoed in the cavernous dining room, a delicate sound almost swallowed by the weight of silence.Everything was perfect, as always—hand-cut crystal, French linen napkins, an oak dining table long enough to seat royalty. My father never tolerated less than excellence. And Alexander Grayson fit right in, all clean lines and cool indifference, a man moulded for power and untouched by warmth.He sat across from me, his expression unreadable, his every move calculated. He hadn't said much since he arrived. Not that I expected him to. Still, I waited, watching. Listening.Then came the first strike.“The wedding will take place in six months,” my father said, reaching for his wine with the ease of someone making small talk.”No, it won't.” Alexander objected. ”No one will believe I’m marrying someone with such short notice unless something was wrong,” he continued smoothly.My father's lips thinned. ”What would you suggest then?””A year is a more reasonable tim

Eliana's POV“I’m sorry. You’re marrying who?”Katherine’s voice hit an octave only dogs and divas could hear.“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, glancing around the café. “This place is crawling with people who donate to my father’s foundation. If one of them hears I’m being bartered off like a Birkin bag in a tax write-off, he’ll have a full-blown aneurysm.”“I’m not whispering until you explain to me what the hell is happening.” Katherine leaned over the table like we were conspiring to rob a royal bank. “You’re marrying Alexander Grayson? The Alexander Grayson?”“That’s what the press release will say,” I murmured, stirring my coffee even though I had no intention of drinking it.“The same man who once shut down a tech startup by accident and didn’t apologize?”“It was a strategic acquisition. The founder failed to read the fine print.”“Oh my God, Eliana. He’s basically a Bond villain with a better skincare routine.”I gave her a look. “And your point?”“My point is—since when do

Eliana’s POVI had three rules going into this photoshoot. Do not kiss him.Do not look like you want to kiss him.Do not let anyone capture photographic evidence that suggests rules one or two were ever in danger.By the time we finished the first pose, I was failing all three.The studio was a minimalist’s wet dream—concrete floors, massive white walls, lighting so soft it could turn a mugshot into Vogue-worthy glamour. The team buzzed around us with designer enthusiasm: makeup artists retouching my lipstick, stylists tugging on Alexander’s lapels, the photographer shouting things like “YES! That’s it! Give me that tension!”Tension, huh?We had it in spades.Not the romantic kind. The kind where you fantasize about setting someone’s shirt on fire while making out with them against a wall.Alexander hadn’t said much since we arrived. He didn’t need to. His silence was louder than most people’s shouting.He looked good. Annoyingly good.Black suit. Crisp white shirt. The top button

Eliana's POVI was a law-abiding citizen, but if anyone could drive me to mariticide, it was my future husband.I hated his arrogance, his rudeness, and the mocking way he called me Princess.I hated the way my pulse kicked at the rough span of his hand around my neck.And I hated how he always seemed larger than life, like the molecules of any space he entered had to fold in on themselves to accommodate him.Are. We. Clear?His maddening voice echoed in my head.It was clear, all right. It was clear that Alexander Grayson was Satan in a Tom Ford suit.I forced my lungs to expand past the burn of my anger. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three.Only when my blood pressure settled back into semi-human levels did I open the door to my new room instead of hunting down the sharpest knife I could find.As promised, a business card with Alexander’s assistant’s number and a black Amex waited on the nightstand next to a red velvet ring box. When I popped open the lid, a six-carat diamond