The Billionaire’s Muse
“Thank you. I know I don’t deserve this help after what I did on the roof.”
I backed away into the grass.
“You’re absolutely right,” I replied. “You don’t.”
I turned back to the service entrance of the mansion, my heart pounding as if it were in excruciating pain.
We had made an agreement, and the trap was set. I was his savior, and he thought I was his golden ticket to the executive suite.
He had no idea I already had my own plans to destroy his entire legacy.
I was going to stand in front of his billionaire father, his arrogant brother, and all the high-society press at that altar and say no to his face.