Follow
Chapters
Share
An Heir for the Arrogant Billionaire  Novel Cover

An Heir for the Arrogant Billionaire

Sharon could not believe that the man looking sso cold and formidable was the same one who ravished ravished her the previous night. She had thought that he felt the same way that she did. But she. Was obviously mistaken. She recalled how she had screamed with wild abandon as he took her to heights of unimaginable pleasure., and was flooded with shame. She bit her lip and tasted the salt of her own blood. Damn him!
Chapters
Share

Chapter 13

Gerhard stood up as she got to him, kissed her on both cheeks gravely.

'Thank you for joining me. All the men are going to envy me tonight, having you for a partner. That dress is very sexy and you look breathtaking in it'.

'Thank you, Gerhard', she said sitting down, brushing down her filmy skirts as they hissed silkily around her legs.

'Ehat would you have to drink?' he asked summoning the waiter.

Remembering what happened with Bryan the previous evening, Sharon ordered a mixture of orange juice and mineral water and stayed off wine all evening.

The meal was superb and Gerhard kept her continuously amused and it would have been a wonderful evening had she been unable to see Bryan's face from where she was sitting.

By some stroke of bad luck, however, he was seated facing her, on the next table. She had to avoid letting her eyes wander that way or she found herself all too often looking straight at him.

Everytime it happened, she felt a strange dizzying lurch, as though her sense of balance had just abandoned her and that at any moment, she might fall over.

It was very disconcerting and disturbing. She became more and more afraid of the sensation because she had expected it to lessen after a while but the more she kept seeing Bryan, the stronger the sensation and the linger it lasted.

She would catch a glimpse of him and feel the clutch of vertigo, her pulses hammering, her mouth dry, her head spinning.

Hurriedly, She would look away but that strange sensation went on and on, making it almost impossible to keep up a polite conversation with Gerhard or at least keep up a polite pretense of interest in what Gerhard was saying.

She kept feeling the need to hold something solid, anything, be a chair or a table to give her some firm of stability, stop this whirling if the senses.

She was relieved when the meal was over and they all drifted out to the bar again.

Gerhard found a table and they had some more drinks and then the delegates from the biggest bank in Germany joined them and they started discussing banking, forgetting that Sharon was even there. She did not mind because she just did not want to talk about that boring topic. Not that night anyways.

Most if the time, they spoke German and Sharon was glad to go to the background because though she knew a little German, she did not know enough to follow their rapid speech.

At half past eleven, Bryan appeared beside their table. Sharon stiffened when she saw him. The delegates looked round, breaking into smiles and began chattering away to him in German in a way that made it clear that they knew him.

Sharon picked up some phrase she interpreted as a question they posed to him asking him why he left the Swizz bank for London and whatever response he gave them in German, made them all laugh.

He glanced coolly across their heads at her. 'Our car's here, ready?'

Gerhard stirred, 'Darling, I can see you home in a taxi later, you don't want to leave yet, do you?'

Before she could say anything, Bryan answered, 'We all have to be up early, tomorrow is going to be a demanding day. Hurry up Sharon,we don't want to keep our driver waiting'.

She stumbled on her feet, very flushed, murmured something apologetic to Gerhard who made a face but bent to kiss her.

'Your spoilsport friend is right. We do have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. I'll be seeing you at lunch, perhaps, if we are both free?'

She followed Bryan out of the hotel, into the waiting car, secretly relieved to be leaving because she had been bored with all the banking talk, especially in a language she found hard to follow and yet at the same time irritated because Bryan was ordering her a out, making decisions for her, answering for her.

As they drove through the warm Rome night, she muttered to him, 'Will you stop giving me orders as if I were your secretary? I'm David's personal assistant, not yours. He never pushes me around, he treats me with respect and I'd like you to do the same, please'.

'If I hadn't interrupted your little party, you would have been there all night and then you wouldn't have been in any fit shape to take part in the conference tomorrow', he said coldly. 'I am delivering David's speech at ten, remember? You ought to be there in case there are questions. I might have to consult you on what David's views might be on some issues. I am simply his mouth piece as far as the speech is concerned and I may not know all the answers to all the questions I am asked,whereas I imagine you will. You make it your business to know everything there is to know about David and his opinions'.

'Don't use that sarcastic tone tp me', Sharon said, her body tense and her face flushed.

'I am merely staying the facts', he drawled. 'If you don't like them, it's because you prefer not to face up to the truth'.

The car stopped in front of their hotel and she walked into the lifts.

Bryan caught up with her there but she ignored him, turning her head away.

The lift took them straight to their floor and they walked to their rooms, with Sharon walking ahead and Bryan following behind.

She got to her room and opened the door but before she could shut it, Bryan's foot jammed it open.

Tensing, Sharon swung round to face him. 'What....?

'We need to talk. I suggest we have breakfast together downstairs at a quarter to right'.

'I prefer to breakfast my room!'

His eyes glittered angrily. 'A quarter to eight, downstairs', he said. 'be there or I'll come and drag you down if I have to'.

You may also like

Betrayal Leads to Ruin Novel Cover
9.2
The email notification chimed on my computer at exactly 3:47 PM on a Tuesday that would forever divide my life into before and after. My hands trembled slightly as I read the subject line: 'Congratulations - Promotion to Senior Marketing Director.' Two years. Two years of arriving first and leaving last, of turning impossible client demands into success stories, of proving myself worthy of a position I could have claimed with a single phone call to my father. But I had chosen the harder path, building my career brick by brick on merit alone, hiding my true identity as Chairman Powell's daughter behind the ordinary surname of my husband. The promotion letter detailed my exceptional quarterly performance reports, the three major client acquisitions I had secured this month alone, and the innovative marketing strategies that had increased our division's revenue by thirty-two percent. Every word validated the sacrifice, the exhaustion, the countless nights spent perfecting presentations while Joseph slept peacefully beside me, unaware that his wife was the secret heiress to the very corporation that employed us both. I printed the letter, my heart swelling with a pride that felt entirely my own. No family connections, no inherited privilege—just Rachel Powell, the woman who had clawed her way up through talent and determination. The promotion would mean a corner office, a substantial salary increase, and most importantly, the recognition I had earned through my own abilities. That evening, I floated through our apartment on clouds of achievement.
Billionaire In Disguise Novel Cover
9.4
Refusing to go on a blind date set up by her parents, Grace agrees to a man to be her hired lover, not knowing that he is the CEO of a large corporation, which ends up pushing her further into marriage as her father approves of their relationship. Cody is initially opposed, but after doubting what is happening and finding out who Grace's adoptive father is, he accepts the marriage between them with an agreement between the two, who agree that their marriage will only last for a few years.
Her Vengeance Rises From The Asylum Novel Cover
7.3
I walked into the luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue, the air conditioning chilling my skin. There she was-Alivia, my adopted sister-swiping my husband' s Black Card for her wedding dress. Three years ago, she tampered with the neonatal equipment during my home birth, suffocating my newborn son. Then she told everyone I was a drug addict who killed my own baby in a hallucination. My husband, Carter, didn't just believe her; he locked me in a high-security psychiatric facility in Nevada to "fix" me. For three years, I rotted in isolation while she took my life, my husband, and paraded a child that wasn't even his as the Fletcher heir. Even my parents sided with her, protecting their image over their own daughter's sanity. They think I' m still the fragile socialite who would crumble under their gaslighting. They think I' m here to beg for forgiveness. I pulled a silver flash drive from my clutch and stepped into the light. "Shopping for a wedding dress, Alivia?" I whispered, my voice cutting through her laughter. "I hope it goes well with the forensic report proving you murdered my son." The game is over, Carter. I' m not here to reconcile. I' m here to burn your empire to the ground.
His Unwanted Wife Is A Top Scientist Novel Cover
9.6
For four years, I played the perfect, naive, low-income wife to my wealthy husband Duke, completely hiding my true identity as a top-secret DARPA scientist. On our anniversary, I discovered he was having an affair with an old-money socialite named Adelia. He used our marital assets to buy her a half-million-dollar Birkin bag, but that wasn't the worst part. While hiding in a parking garage, I recorded him telling his mistress that the daily prenatal vitamins he lovingly gave me were actually high-dose contraceptives. He had secretly sterilized me to ensure I would never produce a "low-class" heir, planning to toss me aside with a tiny settlement in six months. When I confronted him, he violently attacked me, smashed my head against a marble dresser, and locked me in our bedroom. I thought of the four years I spent crying in doctors' offices, blaming my own body for my infertility, while he held my hand and comforted me with perfect, monstrous concern. I didn't wait to be punished. I climbed down the second-story balcony in the dark, leaving behind every diamond and luxury bag he had ever given me. Sitting in the back of a taxi, I wiped the blood from my forehead and opened a secure app on my phone. "Divorce fraud. Initiate sequence." It was time for him to finally meet Dr. Patterson.
Leaving My Husband Novel Cover
8.3
Seven years. Seven years of marriage to Marcus Sterling, and here I was, standing in our Lincoln Park dining room, adjusting the silverware for the third time. The candles I'd lit an hour ago were already halfway burned down, casting a warm glow across the table set with Marcus's favorite dishes—beef Wellington, roasted asparagus, and the chocolate soufflé waiting in the oven, timed to perfection. I smoothed down the emerald green dress I'd bought specifically for tonight, the fabric hugging my curves in a way I hoped would remind Marcus of the woman he'd fallen in love with, not just the mother of his child. My hair was styled in loose waves, the way he used to like it before Dylan was born, before business calls became more important than dinner conversation. "Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?" Dylan's small voice called from the doorway. He stood there in his pajamas, clutching his favorite teddy bear. "Soon, sweetheart," I promised, checking my watch. Two hours late already. "He's just working hard.
My Coldhearted Ex-Husband Demands A Remarriage Novel Cover
7.0
Erika was a disgraced ex-wife, struggling to survive in a freezing Brooklyn slum to raise her five-year-old son. But her billionaire ex-husband, Doyle Morgan, wasn't done destroying her. He orchestrated a cruel trap, forcing her to deliver a custom sapphire brooch to his new mistress, just to watch her get humiliated and severely burned by scalding coffee. When Erika fought back and refused to beg, Doyle's punishment was swift. He demoted her to scrubbing executive toilets with raw, bleeding hands. Starved, exhausted, and pushed to the absolute brink of organ failure, she finally collapsed lifelessly in front of him in Central Park. For five years, she had endured his relentless torment and the world's mockery just to keep her child safe. Doyle despised her, convinced her son was the filthy proof of her cheating with another man. He didn't know the boy was actually the child of his deceased older brother, conceived in a dark, drugged hotel room. Why couldn't he just leave them alone to suffer in peace? But when Erika woke up in the VIP hospital ward, the nightmare took a terrifying turn. Doyle pinned her weak wrists to the mattress, his eyes burning with a dark, possessive obsession. He had figured out the truth about the boy's bloodline. "He's a Morgan. He has my family's blood in his veins, and I will not allow my nephew to be raised in a slum. If you can't care for him, I will. From this moment on, you and that boy belong to me. And you are never leaving my sight again."