One Weekend With The Billionaire Novels & Stories

He poured her a glass. “So what are we celebrating?” He took a large gulp from the bottle before answering. “The latest news headline on Henry...” Her lips slowly curled into a sinister smile. “From the looks on your face, I can say you know what I am talking about” “The deal with the Arabian billionaire...” “My father’s insider gave us all the dirty details” he answered with a smile. “The news reports didn’t say if the billionaire was completely withdrawing his investment after Henry made a fool of himself...”

Outside, a siren wailed down Avenue B and faded. Inside, it was just me, him, and a napkin that could save us both. 90 days. A bed that wasn’t a cot in the back room. Food. Heat. No court notice on my door. All I had to do was walk into a billionaire’s world… and not fall for him. Lila sighed in her sleep and burrowed closer to my ankle. I picked up the pen. My signature was messy. Tired. But it was there. Adia Mbeki.

Mocking. “Well, of course,” Ellie said lazily. “She’s already planned everything.” Kate stopped speaking. Ellie leaned back, crossing her legs slowly. “This was always the goal, wasn’t it honey ? The money. The comfort. The lifestyle.” Her gaze slid over Kate deliberately. “You wanted to be a billionaire’s wife so badly you schemed your way into his life. How desperate ” Kate didn’t react. She had learned long ago that silence hurt more than words. “All poor people are the same,” Ellie continued lightly. “They grab whatever opportunity they can even if it means stealing someone else’s life.”

The bedroom door swings open. He walks in holding red roses. “My beautiful wife is awake,” he grins, sitting beside me as I sit up. I blink. “Wait. Did you just call me beautiful?” This must be a good day. He laughs. “Look, you are my jackpot.” “Jackpot?” “Yeah. My ticket out of poverty for life.” “What do you mean?” “The billionaire from last night. He wants to see you again.” My eyes widen as I fight to hide the flush creeping up my face.

And my wages wouldn’t be enough to pay for it. His eyes narrowed, one hand slipping into his pocket. Then someone called him from behind. “Hello Xavier Blackwood!” He turned back and waved briefly. Immediately My mind froze. Xavier Blackwood? The name was a popular, legendary whispered with power and money. A ruthless billionaire known for his icy demeanor and iron grip on his family empire. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my trembling hands. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The clash was too shocking and surprising.

“I’m at the airport. I need you to pick me up.” “Why don’t you call Niko,” I hiss bitterly, heading to the bathroom. “I’m not in New York now.” “I know. Come pick me up. I’ve been here for hours, Ally. Mr Moretti’s present will be ruined by the time I get there!” I rub my temples. As if this weekend wasn’t chaotic enough, my sister is on her way. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, Daphne chirps in. “I’m with Grandma Hale!”

“That my best friend’s bodyguard is actually a billionaire. And not annnyy billionaire but freaking Nikolai Dorne” Now beside her, I led her to the couch. She didn’t resist, of course; she lived for dramatic entrances. I placed my hand on her shoulder as she lowered onto the couch, giving her light massages. “I know what you’re doing, and it's ohhh,” she groaned, “baby just there.” I continued with the massage, “You’ve had a tough week.” “Tell me about it. It’s one thing to deal with a self-absorbed Englishman who can’t stop bragging about his vintage properties, and it’s another that he smells like a neglected locker room. Like, sir, you’re a billionaire. Invest in deodorant!”

“Ahhh. That explains the look on your face. Spill. Now.” I narrated everything to her, spilling my guts about what happened today. “WOW!” She exclaims, leaning back in her seat, taking a sip of her wine. “He’s interested in you.” “Then, he has a funny way of showing it.” “I live to see this hate unfold into something else,” she said, a mischievous light sparking in her eyes. Typical Anastasia. “Whatever.” I taunted her. “This guy is a billionaire, Demetria — not just running hotels and casinos here in L.A., but across states, across countries. He practically owns the playgrounds of the rich.”

Williams said evenly. “Your friend will be back tonight.” She says. “Do you prefer sedans or SUVs?” she queried, holding her phone in a way that suggested she was fully capable of ordering a car with a mere click of a button. “Any color preference?” “You’re going to have to excuse me before I set this place on fire,” I told her and stomped out onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette and glaring at the skyline like it owed me something. What have I gotten myself into, I know I need money but not in this way. I love my privacy. This is unreal. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, I’d been sleeping in a parking lot. Now I'm a billionaire.

Leaving My Heart Behind Ecca's POV I adjusted my blazer again and looked at the big clock in the lobby. The room was busy with important business people talking, fancy lights hanging from the ceiling, and glasses making soft noises now and then. Tonight marked the 20th anniversary of Atlas Corporation, a day I had hoped to celebrate as Markos' wife, not just his secretary. Five years ago, I was Ecca Beaumont, the heiress to the Beaumont fortune, married to a man I thought loved me more than anything.