Miss Billionaire Novels & Stories

Toby assured her, "We cannot be that stupid to sell our boss to some stranger, because he offered us two hundred bucks each." Two hundred bucks each, for information about her. Isabel was mortified. Who would offer such amount of money for nothing? "You see, he was rich." Ginny said, "He wore a Rolex watch, and his nails were well manicured. You can tell his status, despite wearing just a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks like one of those country club golfers---"

Crying wasn't going to solve anything. Checking around she only saw a cheque of five billion dollars and a note vividly explaining how tight and good she was in bed got her all flared up, the person had written that note like she was nothing but a dirty whore who should be grateful for a generous tip. Paying her off for a night stand was bad but making her look like a slut was the least she could contain with, that son of bas**rd should be lucky they never met gave to face and also for the fact she had no idea who he was or she would have taunted him to death and told him how much of a fool he was, the nerve of that b**ch.

"Does he keep secret weapons in there?" "I don't know." "Millions of dollars?" "I definitely don't know." She sighed dramatically. "What a boring mansion." I rolled my eyes. "Come on.” We had barely taken two steps when a familiar voice stopped us. "Unbelievable." Natalia walked toward us dressed impeccably as always, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her eyes swept over Avery up and down with open disgust. “So Leonardo has started collecting strays now. First Riley, now you.”

After our conversation, I started working and kept myself busy cleaning the cups and plates. "By the way, did you see the news about the missing man?" Lean asked, but I didn’t look at her. I was curious about what she said. "Another missing person? That’s nothing new in the Philippines, so it’s no surprise that so many people go missing here," I replied before glancing at her. "He’s not just any ordinary person in the Philippines—he’s a billionaire." There are still rich people going missing in the country? I thought something like that was really rare.

She forced herself to scroll through the social media posts, each caption more infuriating than the last. “A Love Story for the Ages—Theodore Thatcher Marries Nadia Rostova in an Intimate Ceremony” “The Business World’s Most Eligible Bachelor is Officially Off the Market” “Meet Mrs. Thatcher—The Stunning Bride Who Captured the Billionaire’s Heart” Sheena’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Captured his heart? Bullshit. This was a game. A twisted, unfair game. Without wasting another second, she pressed the call button. The phone rang once. Twice.

She knew, in fact, everyone knows, that it's the truth. She formerly worked as a stripper in the most popular clubhouse in the city, before she became a receptionist at the billionaire's company. Needless to say, she was desperately satisfying countless men in return for their money. The pay was nice, no doubt. She only had to quit because the pay she received as a billionaire's receptionist was nicer and perhaps she had more bills to pay. I wanted to tell her how much Mr Bernard loves me, but she seemed not interested in whatever I had to say.

“He’s Lazare Ibañez, the son of Lionel Ibañez, the late race car driver. He’s a one lucky useless spoiled brat, living off his parents’ money and the things they owned. All this jerk has to do is keep everything.” I know. She wanted to say but refused not to. The reason why she chose to work for John tonight isn’t his business to know and isn’t something she would like to talk about with him so she remained silent. “What about the girl he’s going to marry? Do you have an idea of who she is?” She continued wiping the glasses, acting as though she knew nothing about these people who ruined her life. John struggled with his shoulder. “Oh well, I know nothing much about her other than she likes

Misha’s gaze lingered on me, unreadable for a long beat, before he leaned back and drawled, “Well, well, Miss Heir. Looks like you’ve finally found your crown. One question, though.” “What is it?” He leaned back in the armchair like he owned the place, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You make it sound like I’ll work for you. But are you sure you can pay me?” “Pay you?” Misha shrugged, casual as ever. “I’m a billionaire, remember? My hourly f*e is insane. Astronomical. You’d need to sell a kingdom just to book me for a coff*e.” I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “God, I forget that all the time.”

Her heels rattled down the hallway as she tried to find his way to her room. The receptionist downstairs had been more than ready to let her into his room. Not surprising. The billionaire playboy must have frequented this place with numerous women whom he barely knew their names. It's just a mission, Emily told herself as she approached The room. All I have to do is have sex with him and secure my place as his personal assistant, steal from him and leave him forever. He's never even going to see it coming. She had no idea how much longer she would keep crossing paths with Edmund Hamilton.

Oh, I'm definitely going to come with him this time. He took me to the limo and drove off the building, passing through the thick crowd outside, hoping for some scoop. Now they have it. Johnny Miles and the mystery lady. Would they make some noise about tonight's event—or just the story of one of the youngest billionaires in the world? "Drink?" He offered me a glass of golden liquor and I took it without a word. I felt the bitterness of it draw a line in my throat. "Damn..." he chuckled, watching me lick my lips and straddle him on his seat.