Playboy Philanthropist Billionaire Mga Nobela at Kwento

My name is Veronica Hargreaves and I hail from New York City, United States. Am actually going to be twenty-seven years old this year, and I am filled with euphoria to tell a very interesting tale about I and my playboy, Jake Benson. I would have to begin from the scratch with how Jake was introduced to me intuitively, when I was in search for playboys in my Company The Hargreaves Textile Company where I was the Ceo after my Dad Richard Hargreaves retired.

Goodness! Dagon had seen plenty of affluent men given his significant status, but he was still baffled by Zayn’s lavish decision. Although he held a superior status as the president of the Northmob Council, his personal assets only came up to 3 billion dollars—and he was already categorized as super-rich. Zayn, however, had donated 2.8 billion dollars at a charity gala. It was crazy.

His phone screen glowed in the dim cabin light as he scrolled through article after article. George Carter. Billionaire, owner of the empire, philanthropist, yacht enthusiast. Every headline painted him as larger-than-life, the kind of man who could buy and sell entire hockey franchises without flinching. Atlan frowned, lingering on a photo of the silver-haired man stepping off a yacht with the grace of someone untouchable. This is the guy giving me a second chance? The weight of it pressed down harder than the altitude. He studied the man's sponsorship deals, charity galas, sports events. Carter was everywhere, backing winners, shaping industries. And beneath his name was a footnote that ma

He thought he’d stumbled into some fragile little virgin, drunk and drugged, begging for help. He had no idea what he’d actually gotten into. That was just the first stage of the plan and it already showed signs of success. I knew it wouldn't continue so well though. Dominic King. The Playboy Mogul Behind King’s Entertainment, was just, fuck me, perfection wrapped in a suit. They said God didn't have favourites but how then was a single man given the looks, money, body and from what I'd seen yesterday the perfect cock to satisfy a woman. He’s been linked to politicians’ daughters, foreign princesses, and more Victoria’s Secret models than anyone dares count. Still, Dominic has never been mar

“I’m just saying, being with a billionaire doesn’t sound half bad. Just think about it, no more rent, no more bills. Designer bags? Check. Travel around the world? Check. I’d retire at thirty-five and live the dream.” I rolled my eyes with a soft chuckle, then turned my attention to the screen. The news was still replaying Landon Pierce’s accusations, and the words “Who is the Secret Philanthropist?” scrolled across the bottom. I tilted my head slightly as I watched. “Well, whoever it is,” I said finally, my voice thoughtful, “I guess the person just wants to stay hidden. Not everyone likes the spotlight, you know?”

"You'd kill me because of a lady ?! Xavier murmured. "No , I'll do it because you've always gotten everything I want!" He replied. "What do you mean , we're not even brothers you're my friend and I've always helped you". "My dad and I we took you in as our own !" He replied. "Yes !, I became your friend because of an anonymous donation my father keeps on making!" "I'll tell you right now that that anonymous person is me! " "And I get the money from pushing drugs!!" He said and Xavier's eyes went wide. "What?!!!"

“Fuck it. I’ve seen enough. I’ll have to call Mark downtown and see if he’ll let me poach one of his sous-chefs.” “James,” he says. “You want to see this girl.” As I said before; Al is the one person I truly trust, so if he says I should see her, then I should see her. “Okay,” I tell him. “Send her in.” A lot of guys with my kind of money would have invited all of those girls back to his bedroom for the night and run through them like a hungry bear gorging himself on honey. But truth be told, I’m over that playboy lifestyle. I became a millionaire at eighteen, after selling an app that helped people find cars in their price range, and by thirty I was a billionaire after developing longer-las

“Forget the deal. You’re mine, papers or no papers. The only problem is you refuse to come home. I get it. But I want you to spend the day with us.” I crossed my arms, leaning back against the counter. “My time is too expensive to waste with a man who already has everything.” His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, unblinking. “I’ll buy you a McLaren if you spend the day with me.” I froze, staring at him like he’d just spoken another language. “Wait—what? For real?” “Yes, Red. Anything you want. Name it.” His voice was silk over steel. Oh, to be a billionaire’s baby mama, I thought, the smile threatening to break free before I bit it back.

Including this one. He was tall, muscular, Chiseled, handsome, Rich...And he was a Playboy. He easily got whatever had an attractive body with panties underneath to his bed in mere days. He walked into his luxurious penthouse after the elevator opened, and towards his bedroom. The room he had been in before was the normal room where he usually brought women. Here, he was alone and doesn't have some annoying scent clinging to his bed. And he's going to have to scrub himself to get rid of the one all over his body right now.

This time, I don’t backspace. Pages of results bloom: glossy business profiles, society page photos, charity galas. The name I expected, Richard Page, appears again and again. Philanthropist. Investor. Board members on too many companies to count. Smiling in tuxedos, shaking hands with politicians. Former CEO of Obsidian hotels. Beneath the surface glamour are older articles, less polished. Aggressive acquisitions. Nothing criminal, but plenty of smoke. I click until my eyes blur. One photo freezes me.