The Billionaire Next Door Novels & Stories

"I would give you ten million dollars upfront and pay you the rest when you sign the contract with me. I want you to enter a contract marraige of just five months with me. You could include your preference in the agreement." Ten million dollars? That was huge but, "Why me?" I didn't know I had said that out loud, but seriously why did he want me? He could go for other women. Everyone would fight for a chance to stay with a rich man like him. "Are you in or out?" He asked me instead.

“You have done enough for me today. You didn’t have to stay up to wait for me as well.” “I like these moments.” I said, hugging my legs slowly as I turned to face him completely. “What moments?” “When the house finally stops pretending to be a corporation. You know, when it turns into something that can actually slip into the idea of a home.” That actually made him laugh. “Fair.” “So,” I said lightly. “What does a billionaire do at a club if he can’t see the chaos?” “Listen to it.” He muttered, making me smile. “And?”

He had also broken into a house and they had some cash, enough for them to rent a cheap motel for a few days and take care of their needs while they followed the activities of the families of the kids they planned to kidnap. As luck would have it, it wasn’t difficult at all to locate them. Dan, Sandra’s annoying big brother, still lived in his old house, while her friend, who was the ex-wife of the billionaire, also still lived next to him. The very afternoon that Ben and Sam started lurking around their houses, the billionaire guy came to visit his ex-wife with one of his daughters. Looking at the way the man appeared so simple, one would never guess that he was filthy rich.

The screen shifted to a photograph. The same man. The same sharp jaw. The same dark, unreadable eyes. The same presence that had made her spine tighten with awareness. Her neighbor. The billionaire next door. Zayrielle stared, her heart pounding. This wasn’t just wealth. This was power—the kind that crushed people without ever touching them. The elevator dinged. She stepped inside, her thoughts racing. So that’s who he was. Which meant the men in suits. The tension. The warning. It all made sense.

And he was right on that one. Montgomery and Finn corps was the biggest enterprise in the whole country. From the luxury hotels and suites to our famous restaurants spread about the country we were living the exact debutante life I loathed so much. A few years back we'd been down on our luck in New York. Two thirty-something-year-old men, both broken and damaged beyond repair. Solace had come at a price though, and right now sitting in one of the most expensive restaurants in New York, which was no doubt ours. I was immensely satisfied with myself.

“Yes, money oils everything.” “I suppose you have many charities that you support?” He smiles at me. “No.” “Why not? You’re a billionaire. Think how much good you can do in the world.” He walks towards me with my drink. “Stop being naïve, Star. How do you think one becomes a billionaire in the first place?” I scowl as I take my drink from him. “I’m a billionaire because I made millions of people all around the world poorer. Through immoral and illegal means, I acquired resources for a fraction of the price they should have been. What should have belonged to the people I took for myself.”

At his side was a girl in a plaid skirt, a backpack bouncing on her shoulder, chattering away as though she didn’t notice the chill that clung to the man walking beside her. My eyes narrowed. Recognition slammed into me. The rude stranger from yesterday. The man who sent my bag flying without so much as a sorry. Mr. Evans. Of course. Because my life wasn’t already tragic enough — the universe just had to make the brooding billionaire my neighbor. I muttered under my breath, “Unbelievable.” His head turned, sharp and precise, and our eyes locked. For a moment, something flickered there. Guilt, maybe. Or annoyance. He opened his mouth, voice lower than I expected. “About yesterday—”

But his next words stopped me in my tracks. “I can’t give you two million dollars, but I know someone who can give you more,” he said casually. I turned back to him, intrigued despite my anger. “Who?” “Well, there’s a rich billionaire in town who happens to be looking for a wife.” “And so?” I asked, growing tired of his games and antics. “What does that have to do with me?” “Well, he’s not that okay…” Donnie said, waving his hands in a dismissive manner, “he has some bit of, actually never mind.”

Then again, Bentley was a man of many mysteries, and the rugged style of his penthouse complimented it. “This is a beautiful home,” I said. “Larger than it needs to be for one person, but very beautiful.” “Yeah,” he chuckled. “Maybe someday, if I get lucky, I’ll have a family to share it with.” He walked past me with the bottle of alcohol pressed to his lips. He seemed different behind closed doors. Like he was in a state of reflection or wanted something more out of life. I would have never imagined a billionaire to suffer from depression. But the old saying goes: money can’t buy happiness.

Me and Lady Selene definitely have a lot of things to say after dinner. "Hi Bree, I'm Alexander Pierce," I said. "Nice to meet you Alexander, I'm Bree Thatcher. The only daughter of the royalty." She was full of herself and pompous and rude, I didn't like it. "Nice to meet you Bree, I'm a billionaire if you have no idea. The youngest number 1 billionaire in New York," two can play the game. She is living off her parent's money, I am living on my own money.