Under His Billionaire Roof Novels & Stories

I walked around the room, barefoot, taking it all in because I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing. Ethan looked like a simpleton billionaire who did not care for such luxuries when we first met before he suddenly became Mr bossy Pants. I wandered around the enormous well modernly decorated room and caught a glimpse of a sleek modern-sized pool outside and my eyes widened. I had seen simple rooftop pools in movies and magazines but never had I seen one up close. How rich was Ethan?

Everything about this place screamed wealth and power, a sharp contrast to the simplicity of her life at home. Her hands trembled as she clutched her purse tightly. She’d agreed to this meeting out of duty, but she couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest. Who was Adrian Blackwood, really? And why would a man like him—a billionaire—want a stranger like her as his wife? “This way, Miss Bennett,” the butler said, his voice polite but distant.

“Ahhh. That explains the look on your face. Spill. Now.” I narrated everything to her, spilling my guts about what happened today. “WOW!” She exclaims, leaning back in her seat, taking a sip of her wine. “He’s interested in you.” “Then, he has a funny way of showing it.” “I live to see this hate unfold into something else,” she said, a mischievous light sparking in her eyes. Typical Anastasia. “Whatever.” I taunted her. “This guy is a billionaire, Demetria — not just running hotels and casinos here in L.A., but across states, across countries. He practically owns the playgrounds of the rich.”

I stared at my hands, calloused and worn, and wondered if I could even pull it off. He tapped the paper in front of him, a profile I hadn't yet dared to read. "I'll pair you with someone tonight," Conrad said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he took a sip. The clinking of the ice was the only sound in the room for a moment. "He's a billionaire—or at least that's what he insists on being called. But he's more than that. Powerful. Ruthless. One of the most influential men in the country."

For a second, his eyes dropped to her lips, and the mask of the cold billionaire cracked. "I want the truth," he growled. "And I have all night to get it." He didn't kiss her. He let go, the sudden lack of contact feeling like a cold front. "Sleep. The lawyers will be here at eight. Don't make me drag you to the table." Morning arrived with the grey, sterile light of a Manhattan winter. Two men in charcoal suits sat at the end of the dining table, their briefcases open like maws. Kaleb sat opposite them, sipping coffee with a casualness that was clearly a provocation.

“Outside the city? Abandoned storehouse? What is she doing there for God’s sake?” A call immediately came in as I was speaking to Santiago. “Who is this?” “You want to see your wife alive? That would cost you thirty billion dollars.” “Who do you think I am? Mr beast? What made you think I have that kind fucking of money?” “Ohh, don’t play dumb Mr Vandercage, we both know you have enough to take care of your wife, with that little amount gone, you wouldn’t even notice it.” “Don’t hurt my wife. You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

She tucks a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear, crossing over to the couch. “I told you nothing happened!” I lie. I gravitate to the kitchen after drinking and rinse the mug, putting it on the rack. “Seriously, flower girl! You got one chance to shag a billionaire, and you rejected it? Do you know how many girls would kill themselves for a night with him?” “What do you know about him?” I ask. Maisie shrugs. “Not much, but rumors have it he owns the biggest estate in L.A and runs a big empire.”

"I'm not signing anything that gives either company the right to make decisions on my behalf." "Agreed," Ryan replied through the screen. Ethan nodded. "Agreed." She looked at him. "You haven't even read the clause I'm referring to." "I read it last night." "And?" "It's reasonable." Mia narrowed her eyes. "You're agreeing with everything I say." "No." Ethan leaned forward. "I'm agreeing with you when you're right." Ryan chuckled through the screen. "That's a dangerous habit for a billionaire." Ethan gave him a cold look.

It was a live video transmission routing directly from a private, ultra-exclusive penthouse suite in the heart of the city. A sleek, impeccably tailored billionaire—a rival tycoon who had been quietly backing her father's offshore debts from the shadows—appeared on the screen. He held a glass of dark scotch, his expression entirely cold as he looked directly at Vivian's soot-stained form through the camera link.

"Whenever the Master's here, there are more people in the house. He brings along with him his ten bodyguards." "Another ten bodyguards?" The thought of being followed and watched by one bodyguard must be uncomfortable, how much more, if ten. "Of course. He's not an ordinary person, he's a billionaire." "So he's untouchable." "Yeah, and dangerous," Dangerous? What does she mean by that? She showed me the inside of the huge mansion. The interiors of the house were very simple, minimalistic and modern. One can tell immediately from its furnishing that it was a man's house. No pink or pastel colors could be found, only neutral and dark shades.