Black Tie Billionaire Novels & Stories

I whispered as I turned back to the table. "They're the Royal elites of Lakeview Academy. They are the richest people in America. You see the guy in the center with the dark brown hair and grey eyes? He's Elijah Easton, the sole heir of Eastons Designs. Next to him on his right is Jaxon Walters and his twin Aspen Walters. Finally we have Austin Cooper." Lena answered my question with a dreamy gaze towards Austin.

It was hungry and desperate and confused — like he was trying to remember what it felt like to want something. I kissed him back. One thing led to a coatroom. The coatroom led to his penthouse. His penthouse led to his bed, which was cold and white and big enough to lose yourself in. I lost myself in it. And in the morning, he was already gone. --- Present day The note was on the pillow. "Enjoyed the act. Name your price." Attached to it was a business card: Alexander Black, CEO, Black Industries. I'd seen that face on magazine covers. The youngest billionaire in New York. The man who fired his own father from the family company. The ghost who never smiled.

Aiden expensive private jet rested in the runway like it owned the city. Aiden sat in the back seat dressed in a black tuxedo. The white shirt he wore clung to his body like a second skin, highlighting his muscles and perfectly framed features. Aiden was more than just a celebrity billionaire, he was a man who never failed at making an entrance.

He chose a sleek, tailored charcoal-grey suit—a color that perfectly matched the sheets of our marital bed—paired with a pristine white silk blouse. Stellan stepped in front of me, his own lower half clad in dark slacks, his broad chest still bare and gleaming with moisture. He helped me into the silk blouse, his massive, calloused fingers working the delicate pearl buttons with a terrifying, concentrated precision. He draped the charcoal blazer over my shoulders, adjusting the lapels so they sat perfectly. Then, the billionaire CEO dropped to one knee on the plush carpet.

He spoke with a parfait straw in his mouth. “Tyleratte Brooke, I wish I was him.” “What do you mean?” I asked him with disgust. “Please, don’t tell me you don’t know the Tylerattes?” “Well I don’t.” “Tyleratte Brooke is listed as the richest billionaire in Singapore.” He replied, smiling mischievously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But the mysterious and attractive charm from the man in the black nightgown made Vivian unable to resist but had to look back. Her first impression of Dominic was that the man was so beautiful. He was as handsome as a knight or some god out of a myth, with a tall body, broad shoulders, long arms, and an angular face full of masculinity. His gaze was sober and calm, he casually passed others but made them pay attention to him. Vivian watched him until the figure of the man disappeared behind a turn in the hospital corridor. It was not until later that she learned that he was Dominic Arnold, the richest famous billionaire, wielding fearsome power and also a notorious arms dealer. She was lucky

The word hung in the air, sharp and immovable. Elias stopped typing. He took a slow breath, then swiveled his chair around to face me. He looked tired—really tired. The facade of the untouchable billionaire was slipping, revealing a man who looked haunted by his own choices. "You’re angry," he observed, as if he were discussing the weather. "I assume you’ve been standing outside this door for quite some time."

Not a‌nym‌ore. Za⁠n‍e st​r​aightened hi‍s cufflinks, the mask of the un​touchable bi‌l‌lio‌nai⁠re sliding back into place even as a flicker of somethi‍ng‌ r‍ec‍k​less stirre​d in his​ che​st. The s⁠oft click of her​ heel​s grew lo‌u‌der in the hallway.‌

The headlines flashed dangerously before me: “Billionaire Big-shot busted in bathroom bonanza with another dude;” “Toilet tryst torches tycoon’s rep: caught pants-down with a guy;” “Filthy rich and filthy habits: billionaire’s bathroom boy-toy bust;” The morbid names kept coming, each worse than the order that held me bound to where I was as I watched him leave the bathroom. As soon as his presence left I felt some sort of motion in my bones. I moved slowly, pushing the door.

“Did you see anything in the room at least, that could help you Identify him? I hesitated, the watch flashing in my mind. “I know he's rich, like filthy rich. He had a Patek Philippe Grandmaster chime on the nightstand.” Laura blinked, “I've heard that name before,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Isn't that Scott's dream watch?” She asked. I nodded, my chest tightening. “ It is.” “Oh Linda, I'm so sorry for bringing him up.” She apologized. “It's fine,” I said softly.