Escorting The Billionaire Novel Read Online Free Novels & Stories

She had brought this tragedy to him. "So you kidnapped me because you wanted my help?" "There was no other way, I had to result to this. I need money, Faith." Faith sighed in relief, she could give him whatever money she had, it wasn't much to compensate for what he had gone through. "A million grand." "W_what?" Faith choked, she couldn't have heard him right. If she had such money, she probably wouldn't have lost custody to Sterling. "Aren't you married to that billionaire now? A million grand should be nothing to you."

I couldn’t place it. My feet touched the crunchy little stones on the ground. Peter said nothing. He just led the way, and I followed. The moment I stepped inside, I knew I was in a different world. heaven. The smell of wealth hit me like perfume. What kind of money was this? This man, this billionaire, must be stinking rich, just like Sammy suspected. The interior decor was something else entirely. This was wealth at a level Sammy and I couldn’t even imagine.

“Money or you.” Sophie met his gaze. “And you chose?” He dropped a document onto the table. “Neither. I chose myself.” She scanned the paper. It was a withdrawal from the Trust. He’d signed away 1.4 billion dollars in potential inheritance. Sophie whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.” “I did,” he replied. “Because I won’t build my future with hands chained to someone else’s gold.” She stepped closer. And kissed him. Camellia broke into the second partition of the Ash List USB.

His lips parted slightly. As though he'd forgotten how to breathe. And for the first time since stepping out from behind the curtain, I wished I could see what everyone else was seeing. Because the expression on his face told me it was something special. ——— Ethan- I stared at the invitation, my eyes widening in disbelief. “Sir… this is—” “An invitation to one of the most exclusive galas in South Bay,” he interrupted. “The Imperial Gala. It’s a charity auction hosted by the Crestwood family every year, and getting an invitation is next to impossible.”

she said, voice honeyed. Lena sank into the seat, heart pounding. That was it. Mr Hale was going to kill her. She’d read stories about this. She’s read books like these of billionaires who spiral once the chips are down.They were onto them and his back was against the wall so he was getting rid of her.I mean,the driver didn't even make eye contact with her. They passed through the estate gates, then down familiar streets that twisted toward the city. Her chest tightened when she recognized her old café on the corner as she ducked instinctively, hiding behind the seat like anyone could recognize her behind the mask.

Just picked up a pillow and blanket and tossed them onto the oversized chaise by the window. The next morning, Paris greeted them with sun and scandal. Cassian handed her a croissant and his phone. On the screen: photos of them at the gala, lips barely touching, hands too familiar. Headlines followed: Cassian Wolfe’s Mystery Fiancée Unmasked. Eden Blake: From Deliveries to Diamonds. Sleeping with the CEO? Or Just Playing the Part? Eden stared at the screen. “They’re calling me a gold digger.” “They call everyone that,” Cassian said flatly. “Ignore them.”

But before I could reply, his phone started to buzz on the nightstand. He ignored it. Then it buzzed again. And again. Finally, he sighed and reached for it. I watched as his face changed — calm melting into something sharper, darker. “What is it?” I asked. He didn’t answer. He just turned the screen toward me. Headline: “Billionaire Rand Calloway’s Secret Love Affair — Artist Exposed.” Below it was a photo of us — from last night. Me in his arms, rain falling like glitter around us. The headline glowed cruelly against the white background, and beneath it, smaller lines:

“My offer still remains dear, if you still want to stay with me, you are more than welcome.” A true friend Felisha felt lucky to have one. But after some times, Sonia could only take enough, she was tired of shouldering her friends responsibility on her head. She finally introduced Felisha to the place where she worked, with a very rich billionaire who fancies beautiful ladies, telling her that she would just be an escort. “My friend is beautiful, she might be lucky she thought” It was when Felisha reached the house that she found out t about all the other information Sofia had failed to mention.

The gates were twice as tall as Camila expected. Or maybe she just hadn’t expected anything at all. No photos of the elusive Dante Moreau had prepared her for this—his estate hidden deep in the mountains, guarded like a fortress, his name whispered in boardrooms and on scandal blogs alike. Ruthless. Brilliant. Dangerous. And now? Her responsibility. She was here to “babysit” the billionaire. That’s what the email had said. A temporary live-in assistant hired by his legal team to keep him away from reporters, alcohol, and women for six weeks while the world forgot about his latest scandal.