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Bought A Gigolo, Got A Billionaire CEO Novel Cover

Bought A Gigolo, Got A Billionaire CEO

Alexis signed the divorce papers, leaving her with no assets, no alimony, and just the clothes on her back. To forget her abusive husband Carlos, she got drunk and bought a high-end gigolo for the night with her last 800 dollars. But the man she slept with wasn't an escort. He was Jarrett Hughes, a ruthless billionaire CEO. And while she was gone, her ex-husband was busy destroying her entire life. Carlos framed her with fake photos of her cheating to justify the penniless divorce. Then came the real nightmare. Carlos and her own aunt secretly drained her family's corporate accounts, driving her father to jump off a building. At the hospital, her grieving mother blamed her for the tragedy, violently attacking her in the ER. To top it off, her cousin Josie—who was secretly sleeping with Carlos—held her father's ashes hostage. "Crawl on your knees and pick it up, or the ashes go in the river," Josie sneered, throwing cash into the freezing slush. Stripped of her marriage, her father, and her dignity, Alexis sat bleeding in the snow. She couldn't understand why the people she loved most had coordinated such a brutal slaughter against her. But Carlos and Josie made one fatal mistake. They didn't know the "gigolo" Alexis had accidentally bought was the most powerful man in New York. Alexis looked at the towering billionaire standing behind her, a vengeful fire burning in her eyes. "I need you to get my father's ashes back," she said, pulling him into a kiss right in front of her ex-husband. "I don't care what it takes."
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Chapter 9

A bitter gust of wind swept across the pavement, lifting a few of the hundred-dollar bills and blowing them against Alexis's blood-stained hospital gown.

A small crowd of pedestrians had stopped to watch. Several people pulled out their phones, the camera lenses focused on the pathetic sight of the fallen heiress.

Josie crossed her arms, tapping the toe of her designer boot impatiently. "I said pick it up. Or the ashes go in the river tonight."

Just as Josie spoke, a black Range Rover pulled up aggressively behind the Porsche. Carlos threw open the door and stepped out, a smug grin plastered on his face. He walked over and wrapped his arm around Josie's waist, looking down at Alexis with utter contempt.

"Look at her," Carlos laughed, the sound grating like sandpaper against Alexis's ears. "Not so arrogant now, are you?"

Alexis closed her eyes. The image of the black marble urn burned in her mind. She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. She slowly reached her trembling hand forward, her fingers stretching toward a bill lying in a puddle of dirty slush.

Just as her fingertips brushed the wet paper, a heavy, custom-made Italian leather shoe stepped firmly onto the bill, pinning it to the concrete.

Alexis froze. She followed the sharp crease of the dark suit trousers upward, past a narrow waist, broad shoulders, and finally met Jarrett's pitch-black, furious eyes.

Jarrett's massive frame blocked out the sun, casting a long, protective shadow entirely over Alexis.

He bent down. He didn't look at the money. He wrapped his large, warm hand around Alexis's thin wrist and pulled her upward with a smooth, unstoppable force.

Carlos and Josie jumped back, startled by the sudden appearance of the imposing stranger.

Carlos felt the suffocating aura of power rolling off the man. He instinctively took a step back, his bravado faltering. "Who the hell are you?" Carlos demanded, his voice cracking slightly.

Jarrett completely ignored him. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dark silk handkerchief.

He lowered his head, his focus entirely on Alexis. With slow, meticulous movements, he wiped the dirty slush from her fingertips, treating her hand as if it were made of fragile glass.

The blatant dismissal hit Carlos like a physical blow. His fragile ego flared into violent rage. "I'm talking to you, asshole!" Carlos yelled, lunging forward and reaching out to shove Jarrett's shoulder.

Jarrett didn't even turn his head.

As Carlos's hand came within inches of his suit, Jarrett shifted his weight. His left hand shot out like a striking snake. He clamped his fingers around Carlos's wrist, twisted his body, and snapped his arm downward with brutal, calculated torque.

A loud, sickening pop echoed over the street noise.

Carlos let out a high-pitched, agonizing scream. He dropped to his knees, cradling his dislocated wrist against his chest, his face turning pale green.

Josie shrieked, jumping back against the Porsche. "You maniac! I'm calling the cops!"

Jarrett released Carlos's arm, letting him collapse onto the pavement. He tossed the soiled silk handkerchief directly onto Carlos's face in a gesture of absolute disgust.

He finally turned his dark, lethal gaze onto the two of them. "Loud," Jarrett muttered, his voice a low, terrifying rumble.

Alexis stood behind him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She stared at his broad back. This gigolo possessed a level of violence and authority that completely dwarfed Carlos.

A reckless, desperate plan formed in her mind. If her reputation was already ruined, she would use this man as her weapon.

Alexis took a step forward. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Jarrett's waist from behind, pressing her cheek against the solid muscle of his back.

Carlos looked up, groaning in pain, his eyes widening in shock and furious jealousy at the sight of his ex-wife clinging to another man.

Josie pointed a shaking finger at Alexis. "You shameless whore! You just got divorced and you're already screwing some street thug!"

Alexis ignored the insult. She stepped around Jarrett, moving to his front. She reached up, grabbed the lapels of his expensive suit jacket, and pulled herself up onto her tiptoes.

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