Romans & histoires El Contraataque Del Multimillonario Disfrazado

“What’s your name?” “Cara.” “Well, Cara…” he said, handing over the money. “You’ve just saved my very elaborate disguise.” She giggled excitedly, then said goodbye to him before he turned and handed one of the caps to me. I stared at it. "Seriously?" "You're dating an NFL quarterback," he said completely seriously, already putting his own on. “This is called strategy.” "This is the disguise plan?" He nodded with full confidence, "It is." "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I said.

"I told her she was the most stubborn, brilliant, impossible woman I'd ever met. And that I wanted to build something real with her." Maria beamed. "That's romantic." "It was a disaster," Izzy said. "I was wearing a four-thousand-dollar dress I was afraid to sit in." "Four thousand dollars?" Frank's cop instincts activated. "For one dress?" "It was the gala," Alex explained. "She needed something appropriate for...." "Nobody needs a four-thousand-dollar dress," Frank said. "I agree," Alex said. "I offered to buy her ten dresses for half that price. She refused."

The gala was exactly what I expected and somehow still worse. Crystal chandeliers. White flowers. Men in tuxedos who looked like they had never once carried groceries. Women glittering in jewels that probably had their own insurance policies. I mean, if body parts could be insured in this day and time, how much more jewelries? Everyone smiling too hard, speaking too softly, and pretending not to be calculating each other’s worth. It was a room full of expensive liars. So, naturally, Dominic fit right in. He walked beside me with one hand lightly at my back, and though the gesture looked graceful to everyone else, I could feel the silent command in it.

“I know, but hearing him talk about work makes me hesitate. He promised opportunities.” “Yeah, just like he’s been doing for the last few years. Typical rich boy, acting all tortured and generous, baiting sympathy with daddy’s money, but never following through on his promises.” I chuckled softly but found myself staring at my reflection, conflicted and listless. I shut my mind and finished my shower. But when I opened the cabinet, all that was inside was a burgundy lacy dress—sheer, delicate, and impossibly soft. I could almost picture how it would flow around my body, hugging every curve and gently cupping my most intimate parts.... I cursed under my breath, what the hell was this supposed

“This has never really happened to me before.” “What do you mean?” Ethan laughed, sitting forward in his seat. “What kind of person offers a complete stranger a million dollars?” I said, still in shock. “That’s completely outrageous! What are you, some kind of billionaire?” “Well.” Ethan grinned proudly. I couldn’t believe it. “So you thought you could manipulate me with your money?” I started feeling a little cheap. “I wasn’t really looking at it that way,” Ethan said with a confident smirk. “Think of it as more of a payment for services rendered.”

And the idea of getting to know him better and writing his story is incredibly tempting. Emily replied. "I see. And how do you feel about that?" It's frustrating," Sarah said. "I mean, I understand that he's a billionaire and all, but that doesn't give him the right to treat people like they're beneath him. He talks down to the staff at his hotels, he interrupts people when they're speaking, and he's always bragging about his money." That does sound pretty unpleasant," Emily said. "And do you think you could handle being around that all the time? Even for just a year?"

But the saleslady recognized the man. "How much is the dress?" he asked. The saleslady's face turned very pale. "I'll pay for all of the dresses in the display, including the ripped dress on your hand. So how much is it?" the silly billionaire inquired. “NO,” Agatha declined. Everyone looked at Agatha, including the rich man. “Mister, you don’t need to pay it. If you do, how can I clear my name? I decline your help.” The man’s mouth opened and closed several times, as if he wanted to argue, but he changed his mind.

As the lenses zoomed in, billions of people around the world held their breath in front of their screens. They saw the legendary, cold-blooded tyrant of Wall Street. The disfigured billionaire they had once called a "monster." Sebastian Sterling was covered in soot and blood, his black tactical coat in tatters. His signature silver mask had completely shattered, holding nothing back as it exposed the terrifying burn scars on the left side of his face to the entire world.