The Alpha Billionaire's Fake Mate
He looked awful, with dark circles under his eyes, stubble on his jaw, his shirt wrinkled as he'd slept in it.
"Elena," he said.
"Cassian,"
I sat across from him, the table between us felt miles wide, two lawyers in expensive suits flanked us like referees at a boxing match.
"Shall we begin?" the older lawyer asked, sliding a thick contract toward me.
I picked it up, started reading it, even though my hands wanted to shake.
One year pretending to be his mate, public appearances at pack functions, living in his mansion, playing the devoted partner.
Six million dollars at the end.
Bab Populer