Damien Prince Net Worth Novels & Stories

Damien rolled his eyes at the aggressive prince " we've been friends since we were children Eric, you should know your harsh remarks don't work on me" The prince glared at his protector " you want me to kill you before you'll keep quite?!" Damien smiled at the Threat " you are only saying that. Now tell me what really happened " The price they're asking for a couple of seconds with a scornful look then he drowned another cup of alcohol and his expression relaxed considerably " my father wants me to use my soulmate as a sex toy"

He repeated the action on the other side, then soothed the reddened skin with gentle strokes. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “Bent over like a good little slut, ready for me to take whenever I want. Anyone could walk by and see how wet you are for a stranger’s cock.” The dirty words made her clench around nothing, a fresh trickle of arousal sliding down her thigh. “Damian…” she whispered. She had finally learned his name during a brief, breathless conversation between rounds earlier — Damian Vale, the business mogul whose companies controlled shipping routes, tech investments, and luxury developments across continents. A man used to owning everything he touched.

“You’ve been creaming your panties for me every day at work. Now cum on my fingers like the dirty girl you are.” His words made her clench hard around him. She tried to stay quiet, biting her lip, but moans kept escaping. “Damon… someone might hear…” “Let them. I want the whole city to know that my assistant screams for me.” He added a third finger, stretching her. “Say it. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.” “You,” she gasped, hips rocking shamelessly against his hand. “It belongs to you, Damon. Please—” “Please what?”

Kohl just laughed quietly and looked back out the window, her smile never fading as the car continued down the road toward the grand unveiling of DL Corp. **** Gilbert tossed his jacket onto the couch the moment he got to the Cruz hotel. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying Damien’s words... He paced the room, running a hand through his hair."Damien… the founder of DL Corp?" he muttered, then let out a short laugh. "Impossible." He sat down and shook his head in disbelief. "The same Damien who lost his credit cards and has nothing left? How could someone like that build something this big?" He chuckled again, waving the thought away. "I didn’t know Damien had become such a bluff. I guess poverty

“When I say it’s over, it’s over. Or should I find someone who understands simple instructions?” “No, sir!” The man’s voice cracked like glass. “We’ll take care of it.” Damien leaned back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, his fingers tapping against the armrest in slow, measured beats. Every movement screamed control—predatory, precise, absolute. He was thirty-two years old, and already the youngest billionaire in Switzerland. The world called him a financial genius. His rivals called him a storm in a Demon. His employees? They called him nothing—because no one dared to mention his name unless absolutely necessary.

"It’s an honor, Ms. Hart. Lucas talks highly of you.” His voice was smooth, confident, and a little too charming. “Adrian owns Cortez Innovations,” Lucas continued proudly. “A tech company worth… what is it now? two hundred million?” Couldn't he be a billionaire at least? God needs to punish Damian and demote him from being a billionaire. Someone has to beat his net worth. “Five hundred,” Adrian corrected with a modest shrug. “But we keep that quiet so people don’t ask for handouts.” Ugh, he is too cocky. Damian is a billionaire and does not even act that way.

Under a stack of quarterly reports, her hand brushed against a glossy business magazine. It was a heavy publication, the kind printed on thick, expensive paper. It must have arrived in the morning mail. Aria went to move it to the side, but her hand froze. The cover was dark, almost entirely black, except for the man standing in the center of it. Damian Cross. She had heard the rumors. She had heard the whispers at the few galas she had been forced to attend in the background. They called him the Shark. The Prince of Silence. A man who could dismantle a company with a single signature and ruin a life without blinking.

All I can think about is him. Damien Cross. My boss I pull up a browser and type his name into the search bar. The results are overwhelming. Damien Cross, CEO of Cross Enterprises. 34 years old. Estimated net worth: $15 billion. Self-made, apparently... no family money, no silver spoon. Built his empire from nothing. There are photos. Professional ones from business magazines and newspapers. There are pictures of Dante in a tux at charity galas, of him cutting ribbons at building openings, and of him shaking hands with politicians and celebrities and other billionaires.

His remaining net worth was now hovering right around two thousand dollars—money he had carefully saved from his presentation earnings at the Valeigh Summit. Ethan had no idea that Damien had seen the entire notification. Damien hadn't meant to pry, but because he was significantly taller, his gaze had naturally drifted down to the bright screen in Ethan’s hand. The numbers made Damien's brows furrow in deep concern. To a billionaire, two thousand dollars seemed like a desperately small amount of money. He genuinely didn't understand how Ethan was surviving on such a tiny balance, and he immediately made a mental note to set up a massive monthly allowance for the younger man as soon as possi

I didn’t speak. Damien chuckled, pleased. “Tomorrow. Noon. Café Laurent. Come alone.” “I said no.” “You’ll come,” he replied calmly. “Unless you’d like the world to know you tried to pin another man’s child on a billionaire CEO.” Calloway’s hand closed around mine. Hard. “I’m hanging up,” I said. “Five hundred thousand dollars,” Damien added smoothly. “That’s all I’m asking. Pocket change for your new husband. After all, all you ever were to him was a convenient womb for a billionaire CEO.”