The Proxy Bride Of The Billionaire Novels & Stories

"She’s here, Alexander. She’s in Malta. She’s waiting for us at the original coordinates. She’s waiting to finish the story." Alexander looked at the woman in his arms the woman he’d lied to, the woman he’d accidentally turned into a god. He realized then that the "The Billionaire’s Blood Proxy" was no longer about a contract or a billionaire. It was about two sisters, one of blood, and one of code, fighting for the soul of a city. "Then we finish it," Alexander said, his eyes hard and cold. "Tonight."

Listening to her it was as if she was explaining something as simple and natural as making a cake, and not weird and crazy as marrying a man she was already engaged to. “Wait, hold up,” I said, finding my voice. “Let me get this straight, you want to pay me to marry your fiance? Why?” “It dosen’t matter. It's only for some months. Then you will be free and I’ll give you five million dollars.” She said. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. If she was willing to spend that kind of money then obviously it did matter and I told her so. “Why don’t you want to marry him?” I asked.

"You don't need to look that shocked. I need to get married. My bride just ditched me. I need a bride and I want you to be my bride. I'm ready to pay anything." She suddenly looked disgusted. She had expected his condescending pride. One she knew most billionaires inevitably had. But she was disgusted he sounded so sure money was just enough to convince her. "I don't need your money. What d'you think I am? What d'you take me for? A bride on sale?" He scratched his head regretfully. "I didn't mean it like that..." "Of course you didn't," she cut in sarcastically.

Her expression darkened. “Because I need you to.” My heart skipped. “What…?” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Damian’s family is powerful. Rich. Influential. Marrying into this family will secure everything for me.” I stared at her, disbelief flooding my chest. “Then why didn’t you marry him yourself?” I asked. Her lips curled slightly. “Because,” she said, “there are… complications.” My stomach twisted. “What kind of complications?” She smiled.

One of the men present was my lawyer, he has the legal papers,and I guess the other man was the bride's relative. I am Wilfred Donaldson,the said broke Billionaire who is at the verge of bankruptcy. I am getting married to save the face of my company. I don't need to be told, but I knew I always have this cold look which has kept people away from me. I looked down at my watch, the time was past 8, yet the bride wasn't here. Could she be the type to always look lavish and dolled up? As dangerous thoughts crossed my mind, the door was pushed open. There was no need for me to take a glance before I knew she had arrived.

Margaux’s POV. Beatrix! Beatrix! Her name sounded familiar but I couldn’t remember where I heard it! Clyde left last night without even glancing at me. I was left alone in this lonely penthouse his grandparents gave me. I had to go to the hospital but I didn’t even have the energy. “My wedding got cancelled, the father of my child doesn’t want us in his life…how worse could it be?” I sarcastically told myself. Soon, I realized my tears were flowing endlessly.

“His bride disappeared? Did she die or…” “No one knows.” He replied and my heart stopped. “It could be that she ran away or got kidnapped. No one knows actually. But Romanov has to get married in two days. And his bride will automatically get over half of his properties.” He explained and I paused, turning to look at him in shock. “Half? That man is a billionaire! If that's the case, why would his bride run? Unless she was in trouble.” I muttered, mostly to myself than to him and he sighed. “Wait, how do you know all this?”

Damian Blackwood waited at the altar like he was attending a funeral instead of his own wedding. Tall, still, unreadable. Black suit. Dark eyes. A mouth that looked as if it had forgotten how to be kind. For a second, Elena’s steps faltered. Her fingers tightened around the bouquet. Somewhere behind her, the wedding planner made a sharp little sound, probably terrified the bride was about to ruin the most photographed marriage deal of the year. Marriage deal. That was all it was. One year. One signature. One ruthless billionaire paying off her family’s debts in exchange for a wife he could parade in front of the board, the press, and his dying grandfather.