Too Late To Love Me Mr Billionaire Novels & Stories

“I’m not with her anymore! We broke up years ago.” “What a shame. Did she realize you were broke before or after she packed her bags?” His jaw tensed, his hands trembling. He slammed his glass down on the table. “Grace, stop playing boss and come home.” The guests nearby went still, pretending not to listen while hanging on every word. “You don’t have a home anymore, Sebastien,” I replied with a calm that chilled the air. “It’s mine. At ten o’clock tomorrow, your office will be locked. Your mansion will be seized. You have nothing left.”

"There's another thing I want." Stefan stared darkly at him. "What is it? I'll give it to you if I can." The man smiled slowly. "I want Trixie Carter." His subsequent demand left tension in the air. "She was the one who started all of this, and it's only right that someone pays for my loss." He looked into the camera with malevolence and said slowly, "Bring her to me, and I'll let your wife go. To be honest, I haven't had the opportunity to taste a top celebrity before. I'll consider the debt paid once my men and I have our fill of her in bed."

Perhaps I had forgotten what it felt like to be the reason for her happiness. Then I noticed something that shattered what little composure I had left. The necklace was gone. She wasn't wearing the six-million-dollar necklace I'd placed around her neck. She had taken it off. I stared at the empty space against her chest, my throat tightening. If money could buy love, I would have bought her the entire world. But she didn't want my money. She wanted nothing from me. 'Turn around, Myles. Stop watching her. You're hurting yourself.'

My throat tightened painfully, because he didn’t understand that disappointment wasn’t the problem anymore. It was loneliness. It was his blindness to my feelings and efforts. “I love you,” he said suddenly. The words hit me so hard that it stung. “I love you too.” Then the call ended and I handed the phone back to the security, muttering a thank you before shutting the door. And just like that, the penthouse became unbearably quiet. I stood there for several seconds staring at my reflection in the dark windows before finally walking back toward the dining table. The pasta was already getting cold and the ice inside the silver bucket was starting to melt.

It was boring and too much trouble. Estelle felt defeated. But she noticed the lust in his eyes had cooled a little. So she gathered her courage and kept pleading softly. "Mr. Robinson, give me three months. Once I fall for you, I'll sleep with you willingly. Okay?" "No." He refused without hesitation. "Three months is too long. I can't wait that long." He said no, but his words left room to negotiate. Estelle quickly gave ground. "Then how about two months?" Seeing her dull eyes suddenly light up, Victor couldn't resist pinching her cheek.

For three years, Julian Hart has been Larkmoor's idea of the perfect husband. 7:00 a.m. — He gets up to make breakfast. Vivienne Sterling eats only whole-wheat sandwiches, so he goes out early for the freshest ingredients. 9:00 a.m. — He ties her shoelaces and sees her off. 10:30 a.m. — He cleans their mansion, waters the plants, and straightens her study. 3:00 p.m. — He organizes her walk-in closet and jewelry and irons her clothes. ... 10:00 p.m. — The bath he's prepared is at precisely the right temperature when she arrives home on schedule. As Julian helps her out of her coat, he catches the faint smell of tobacco on it.

Trent walked past us to the desk, where Brian had just come back with my papers, and he knocked twice on the glass counter. "Afternoon," he said, loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. "I'd like to see your best penthouse. The top floor, the biggest one you've got." He put his arm around Lacey's shoulders. "It's for my fiancée." I heard Lacey make a small, happy sound. His fiancée. Yesterday at one o'clock he had been standing under a flower arch waiting to marry me. It had taken him one day to give the word to someone else. I waited for that to hurt, and I was surprised to find that it only made me tired.

She pouts as she speaks and I seethe. "Get out." I say in a grinded tone. She watches me with confusion in her eyes and I fume. "I said get out!" I point straight at the door. She chuckles a bit then stands up from the stool and goes on her way. Before she looks the room entirely, she stops by the door. " I hope you've learnt your lesson. Billionaires never love. They lie, they fuck, and they destroy. That's what they're good for." She slams the door hard after that, leaving me alone in the room.

he said, softer this time, “I trust you.” That word again. It sat differently now. “I love you,” I said. “I love you too.” Then, like he didn’t want it to get too heavy— “Just don’t let the billionaire steal you.” I huffed out a small laugh. “Relax.” “I mean it.” “You’re impossible.” “And you’re technically going on a date.” “Pretending.” “Still counts.” I smiled a little, shaking my head. “I’ll call you later.” “Okay.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’re so ill that you’re barely living. Why don’t you just die? Why are you still holding on to your last breath? You’re wasting the Crawford family’s money! I’m telling you, their family’s money will belong to me in the future, so quickly die!” “Who are you?” The woman on the bed got up abruptly. “Let me introduce myself, I’m Janice Sanders. You may not have heard of me, but I have a close relationship with your daughter and especially your son-in-law~” She prolonged the final sound of her last word on purpose as though she was afraid the woman on the bed could not hear the ambiguous meaning behind it. “Y-you…” “I’m your son-in-law’s lover!” Janice finally realized that the