Novel & Cerita Billionaires With Tattoos

It really is him. He was taking off his jacket along with his t-shirt showing off his ravishing body. A deep six-pack with a v-line, tattoos on his chest and upper arm. He raked through his hair and took a sigh as he unzips his pants slowly. I started to have a tingly feeling around my body, especially down there. Just looking at his body made me wanted to jump on him, leeching onto his scrumptious self. He's so fine, it's so unreal how he is a billionaire at a young age owning his father's business. And too unreal that I'm spying on my own fucking boss!

He’d lost the jacket and tie, and rolled up his shirt sleeves to show a pair of muscular forearms with tattoos all over them under the brown hair. My eyebrows went up. It took effort, expense, and magic to successfully tattoo a werewolf whose body was primed to reject anything it perceived as unhealthy. I’d never gotten any tattoos, knowing my father thought they made people look like lowlifes. But they’d always fascinated me. And they didn’t seem to go along with the casino-owner-in-an-expensive-suit image. He had a past, maybe. He’d also made a couple of remarks about my wealthy family background. A heavy, sinking sensation took over the pit of my stomach. If he had a past, if he had overe

She raised her head with a smile. "It is," She giggled as she fought the urge to jump on him. It was a letter from Chris Williams inviting him to make a portrait of his mother but it would be done in his mansion. He is paying him Two billion dollars. Chris Williams is one of the most successful businessmen in Chicago "Do we leave this evening?" She asked giggling with excitement. "No, we start tomorrow. I have to get some stuff today and we are going grocery shopping." "Grocery shopping?" She furrowed her brows. "Why are we going grocery shopping?"

Those billionaire kids that wanted tattoos and could pay any amount to get it done helped me through the rough first year. I won't forget my first real client. He was a billionaire himself from the slums, and when he came to get a tiger tattooed around his biceps, he paid me enough to cover my rent, buy other supplies for my tattoo, and even rent a small shop where I could work. He brought his friends the next time, and that is how I became very important and have a long list of names waiting. Reservations for months.

Thankfully, the wealthy kids who fancied tattoos were a godsend during my difficult first year. I'll always remember my first real client, a billionaire from humble beginnings. When he walked in requesting a tiger tattoo around his biceps, he paid me generously—enough to cover my rent, purchase additional supplies for my tattoo work, and even rent a small studio space where I could set up shop. Word quickly spread among his circle, and soon enough, he was bringing along his friends. Before I knew it, I had become a sought-after artist with a lengthy waitlist stretching months into the future.

The mask of the untouchable billionaire was cracked. Without a word, he set the glass down and shrugged off his ruined jacket. My breath hitched. He began to unbutton his bloodstained shirt. His movements were slow, painful. He hissed in a breath as he pulled the fabric away from his left shoulder. He let the shirt fall to the floor. I had seen him in t-shirts, but I had never seen him like this. His back and arms were a canvas of intricate, dark tattoos—serpents, skulls, and Latin script wrapping around corded muscle.

Before I knew it, we were married; her family was handing me checks to leave her, and I was walking around pretending there wasn’t an entire fucking empire attached to my last name. I should’ve told her I knew that, but every day I didn’t make the next day harder. And now? If Fafane walked into that gala, there would be hundreds of people in one room who knew exactly who I was. People who knew my family, People who knew my money. People who knew I wasn’t simply Quashawn Baker, the mechanic who liked getting his hands dirty. Either way, I was fucked. I tossed the invitation back onto the desk. Marie, yes, I needed to deal with one problem at a time.

The one was the billionaire beauty, the other owner of the Ostin group and the third person Carlos, he was the owner of diamond jewels. On Billina's last birthday he sent a pure diamond wrist watch from to Italy. His family business is of diamond jewels. And his family was the richest in Italy. Ashton was kind of nervous and uncomfortable around the hot boys. Both of them were rich plus they had the body of Greek Gods. What was he in front of them? They had no comparison with him. A lot of girls would be throwing themselves at the gorgeous and handsome men. "So, Ashton, would you like to have a swim race?" Conor asked wiping his mouth while Billina gave him a sideway glance.

Hans said to the man she had just met. He even went to the extent of asking permission with him regarding ridiculous things for his cunning. Instantly Edward fell silent because all this time he didn't think he would be serious with Audrey. Because all he's been after is his treasure. He himself had been lying to Audrey about his social status if he owned a company all this time. But in reality, he doesn't own a company at allin fact, he and his parents live in a small house. After a few moments of silence because he was planning something, he finally slowly raised his voice too.

he asked, interested in the deal “First, your company would need to give them credit for their work.” Tae-Hoon nodded his head as it was quite reasonable. “And second, all of your artists will not wear any other brand, no matter where, even when they are having their live sessions alone in the house with their fans, they cannot wear something that does not relate to our Oh industries.” she pursed her lips waiting for his reply. “Both conditions are reasonable and good but there is one problem.” Tae-Hoon gulped. “What?” Hani asked frowning her eyebrows.