Covert Billionaire Novels & Stories

"One hundred and forty million. They’re calling you a visionary in the press. Behind closed doors? They’re calling you a liability." ​I didn't look up from the blueprints spread across my desk. I kept my compass steady, marking the perimeter of my new empire. "If you’re here to offer a post-mortem on my financial decisions, Mr. König, you’re late. The check has already cleared."

“Tristan Cole Hoult! That’s who you’re married to?” “No fucking way!” Aimee howls, jumping to her feet and snatches the card from Jo. “I knew I recognised him! Oh my god. Shay, do you have any idea who this guy is?” I shrug and shake my head, staring at the both of them in bemusement. “No, am I supposed to?” “Um, yes!” They both shout together startling me. “You of all people should know, Shayla! He’s a renowned architect and the man is also a billionaire! He’s the hottest and most sought after CEO in the country. Look, this is him, right?” She shows me a photo on her phone, and I nod.

Every day I was tempted to turn on my phone, but, I was scared I would find his messages telling me the truth. I was scared he would say the truth on my face that he was in a bet and he didn't regret it. That's why I couldn't bring myself to turn the phone on. He was after all Mister CO. I googled him and the businesses he owned, he was insanely rich at his age. Being 30 years old and a billionaire was something huge. He was even richer than his father. What baffled me was to realize his businesses were all clean. I adored the part where he had an entertainment organization with respect to his sister.

Valentino chose to ignore the message from the stranger and now that in the morning he started dressing up as himself and getting rid of all things to do with his disguise. He was Valentino Araya, a billionaire who chose to hide his identity from everyone. He was the hidden billionaire who had enormous wealth and would not run out in seven generations though. His wealth not only came from the inheritance of his father, but also he had become a billionaire before while still living in England. He owned some pretty big and very successful companies there. His name was widely known in England but very few people know his true face. In the country where he lived, everyone knew him as Valentino M

he asked as he examined me. “No, I'm okay, thank you,” I replied politely. I didn’t want to give up on him because I didn’t know what he had in store for me. He nodded and beckoned for one of his men to come. I stared at his suit. It was screaming affluence. It was then that I remembered what the internet said when I decided to look him up. "BRYCE GILBERT BILLIONAIRE. OWNER OF THE BIGGEST CONGLOMERATE IN THE COUNTRY, ROURMED TO BE THE LEADER OF THE POWERFUL GILBERT MAFIA GANG"

Her naiveness is like a balm to my soul, a respite in this harsh world I have found myself. I am the CEO and founder of Rob & Co. International. My company oversees tearing down multimillion-dollar companies and establishments into smaller parts and selling them to the highest bidder, but our specialty is hostile takeovers. I have met all manner and species of human beings, from the vilest to the most docile. I have had more brushes with death than I can count. After 20 years of being in this business, the world calls me a billionaire, but I feel like I have seen it all and it has gotten old fast.

“Forget the deal. You’re mine, papers or no papers. The only problem is you refuse to come home. I get it. But I want you to spend the day with us.” I crossed my arms, leaning back against the counter. “My time is too expensive to waste with a man who already has everything.” His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, unblinking. “I’ll buy you a McLaren if you spend the day with me.” I froze, staring at him like he’d just spoken another language. “Wait—what? For real?” “Yes, Red. Anything you want. Name it.” His voice was silk over steel. Oh, to be a billionaire’s baby mama, I thought, the smile threatening to break free before I bit it back.

I rose to my feet, staring blankly at Roshan. His gaze never wavered from mine—silent and unwavering. I turned around, about to take my leave— “Here’s my card if you change your mind,” he said, tossing his business card toward me. Then he stood up and left. It was his attitude for me. Of course, he had to act like the billionaire he was. One part of me wanted to take the card, but the other stood firm on walking away. The crazy part of it all? I was carrying his child.

Some people sitting on the sofas turned to look at him as he entered. He moved through the bustling club with an air of superiority. This is what happened the first time he brought me out of here. A head-turning billionaire, pretending to be good in the public eye. A narcissistic billionaire who carefully protects his image and reputation. He knows he's in control here. He makes people believe he's a good person by sprinkling and feeding them believable lies in his magazines, saying he supports and donates money to charity, and even has an orphanage at his house.