Billionaire Bed Warmer Novels & Stories

"I found out just a few weeks ago." "Then why didn't you seek treatment immediately? What were you thinking, Kimberly? Don't mention that you couldn't afford it," he said. Of course, financial concerns weren't valid, considering Kimberly was the only granddaughter of a wealthy tycoon like Arthur Rayder, a well-known figure in the construction and shipping industry. Meanwhile, Kimberly remained silent and chose not to answer Mario's questions until he pressed further. "How long are you going to stay quiet, Kimberly? Don't you care about Opa if—"

I tried to sit up and the shuffling of the sheets caught Max’s attention. He turned and walked up to me. He put his hands under my armpits and gently helped me up. He pushed a button and the bed rose a little. It was then I noticed that I wasn’t sleeping on the four poster bed that had been in the room previously but on one of those modern hospital bed with fancy buttons and all. It was very comfortable and must have cost a lot. Then it dawned on me how much it would have cost for Max to transform the room into one that was suitable for treating me. Yes, I knew that Max was clearly wealthy but now, it seemed that I had underestimated his wealth. Everything just made me more curious about who

She stood by the door, peeking in but she didn't get a good view of what the room looked like. "Come in," he knew she had an interest in checking out the room. She smiled satisfactorily as she took slow steps into the bedroom. The coziness of the bedroom enwrapped her, creating a warm feeling in her chest. The lights were not too bright but they were clear enough for her to notice everything important about the room. The King sized bed, another set of paintings. The vanity mirror and table, the tall mirror stand and… everything was luxurious, typical of how a billionaire's bedroom should be. She suddenly wished she could share the room with him, but she knew it was impossible.

Where do they get all this money? I crawl further into the center of the bed, pulling back the comforter. I slide underneath with ease, gawking at the enormous size of the mattress. It's pure heaven, almost like water this morning, easing my pain. Looking to the side, I see a remote control almost as big as my arm. With delight, I reach for the array of buttons, examining the temperature controls, the wonderful buttons that cause first-rate massages. It's really not necessary. Maybe they're using all this to bribe me into submission. I shouldn't be touching that nice remote, nor should I be diving into the swirl of sheets in the colossal mattress.

"Though I must admit, you present a particularly fascinating subject for observation." His response was to roll us smoothly, caging me beneath his powerful frame with careful control. "Do I now?" he asked, dark eyes finally opening to pin me with that predatory gaze that made thinking increasingly difficult. "And what fascinating observations has my genius fiancée made this morning?" I wound my arms around his neck, enjoying the play of muscles beneath my fingers. "That despite your reputation as Manhattan's most ruthlessly controlled billionaire, you actually sleep quite deeply when we're alone," I observed, watching satisfaction flicker through his expression. "That you unconsciously shift

Obviously he lives in a mansion right in the middle of Mayfair. I guess there is no other way to describe his home other than to say it is exactly what someone would expect from a Russian billionaire. Lofty ceilings, granite floors, leather walls, marble pillars, intricate moldings, all designer inspired and executed from head to toe. His housekeeper, Yana, comes out to the hallway to greet me. She is polite but stiff. She offers a tour, but I decline, so she takes me upstairs to my room. The room is cream and gold. It looks totally pristine. As if no one has ever lived in it.

Morning's golden radiance floods through a grand window and cascades over the mansion, visible from the balcony. Elegance defines the space; refined taste breathes through textured art adorning cream-coloured walls amidst an ensemble of neutral tones dominating the room. A queen-sized bed, neatly dressed in a brown duvet with an assortment of neutral-hued pillows, commands the room's centre. A white bedframe donned with gold designs exudes sophistication, complemented by a resplendent gold chandelier above. To my right, a thoughtfully arranged work table beckons with coloured pens and sketch pads. It's a gesture perhaps from the daughter, a sweet child whose favour I'm glad to have earned; h

The room is exactly what people expect when they hear the word billionaire—only cleaner, and sharper. There is a king bed dressed in black silk sheets, dark walls lit with warm amber sconces. The far wall is glass, giving me Central Park in full view. To the right, the open-plan bathroom gleams—white marble floors, a massive freestanding tub in the corner angled toward the skyline, and a rainfall shower big enough for four. My walk-in closet is a cathedral of order: rows of custom suits, shelves lined with Italian shoes, belts, and watches in perfect alignment. I strip down, toss my shirt onto the bed, step out of my pants, and the shower hisses to life, steam curling up the glass walls.

His shoe game was elite and he had stocked them up neatly with sneakers on one end, boots on the other, and office shoes on one side. The room exudes subtle ego, luxury, and style. It was spacious and occupied the top floor of the mansion. I noticed a sleek control tablet on the bed which was used to control the automated black-out curtains. I caught a glimpse of the designer lamp beside the reading nook. The king-size bed was draped with the finest sheets and I couldn’t resist the temptation to touch it. Two plush pillows were lying on the bed. There was a media wall opposite the bed with a massive screen. Next to it was a bookshelf and other luxury items. I strolled to the window and parte

“Why would you pay me such an amount? Even so, I still don't need it. I lied through my teeth. I was currently struggling even with all my profit shares over the years. I proceeded to lie some more. “I'm successful even though my career is over. I can take care of myself with the money I've accumulated over the years.” Finally turning to leave, his sudden dark chuckle sent a chill down my spine, and I felt unease wash over me. His following words even made me sicker. “I know about your sick nanny in the hospital. I know how much her health care costs and how much you've made from your books so far. From my calculations, you're back to square one.” I felt a sudden surge of anger, my brows rai