The Billionaire's Pregnant Mistress
“All you have to do is sign these transfer and ownership forms, and they’re yours to drive and keep.”
I held my breath, praying she would sign without reading.
Just like the greedy snake I knew her to be.
“Where do I sign?” she giggled, practically bouncing on her designer heels.
“Here, here, and here,” I said, flipping through the pages smoothly as she scribbled her signature.
Then, on the fifth page, her hand stilled.
My heart slammed against my ribs. My breath caught in my throat.
God, please don’t give her a brain today. Not today, damn it.