Flash Marriage To The Secret Billionaire
My mother called me a defective product and insisted I marry Preston Finch, a man who treated our first date like a corporate merger.
During our lunch, Preston demanded I clean his car like a servant, his arrogance snapping the last thread of my patience.
I threw my iced coffee right into his lap, sending the cafe into a stunned silence as he screamed insults about my background and the cost of his designer pants.
My mother didn't care about the abuse; she only cared that I had lost a "catch," calling me an embarrassment and threatening my future while my flower shop faced imminent foreclosure.
Trapped by debt and my family’s relentless cruelty, I felt like a drowning woman with nowhere left to turn.
Just as I hit rock bottom, Connor Powers—my brother's old roommate—stepped in, his icy gaze promising a brutal end to my misery.
"Let's get married," he said, offering a cold, calculated contract that would shield me from my family forever.
I signed the papers, unaware that I had just tethered my life to a man whose world was far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined.
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Chapter 6
At exactly two o'clock, the dark gray Ford pulled up to the curb outside the shop.
Kittie stood on the sidewalk. She wore a simple navy-blue dress, the best thing she owned. The autumn wind bit through the thin fabric, making her shiver violently.
The passenger window rolled down. Connor sat in the driver's seat, wearing dark sunglasses. He gave her a single nod.
Kittie opened the door and slid into the car. The interior was spotless. There was no trash, no personal items, just the smell of leather and a faint hint of cedarwood.
"Is this car new?" Kittie asked, rubbing her cold arms. "It looks retro."
Connor kept his eyes on the road.
"Used lot," he lied effortlessly. "Boston parking is a nightmare. No point in ruining a good car. Plus, I am still paying off my student loans."
Kittie's shoulders dropped. The tight knot of anxiety in her chest loosened. Student loans. He was just a normal guy drowning in debt, just like her.
"I get it," she said softly, a wave of genuine affection washing over her.
Connor turned the steering wheel, taking a sharp left. Kittie frowned, looking out the window.
"This is not the way to the main entrance of City Hall," she pointed out.
"We are using the underground VIP parking," Connor said.
He drove down a concrete ramp, bypassing the public lot, and pulled into a secluded, brightly lit section.
"VIP?" Kittie asked, her heart rate picking up. "How?"
"A college buddy is a lawyer," Connor explained smoothly. "I paid him to grease the wheels. We skip the line. No chance of running into anyone we know."
Kittie looked at him, her chest aching with sympathy. He was already in debt, and he was spending extra cash just to protect her from her mother's spies.
They got out of the car. Connor walked around the hood and stopped in front of her. He reached out and wrapped his large, warm hand around hers.
Kittie gasped softly. The heat of his skin sent a shockwave up her arm.
"Getting into character," Connor murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
He led her to a private elevator. When the doors opened, a man in a sharp suit was waiting for them. He bowed his head slightly.
"Right this way, sir," the man said, his voice dripping with extreme deference.
Connor reached into his pocket and handed the man a thick white envelope.
Kittie's eyes widened. She squeezed Connor's hand, leaning in close.
"Connor," she hissed, her stomach twisting not with gratitude, but with a sudden, sharp spike of dread. "You do not have to tip him that much. Save your money."
Connor looked down at her. His blue eyes softened.
"Efficiency costs money, Kittie," he said quietly.
The man opened a heavy oak door. They stepped into a room that looked nothing like a government office. It had plush carpets, leather chairs, and a massive mahogany desk covered in white roses.
Kittie stopped breathing. The sheer luxury of the room made her head spin. She looked at Connor, her pulse hammering in her throat. None of this added up. The story about the 'used Ford' and 'student loans' suddenly felt like a flimsy, paper-thin excuse stretched over a terrifyingly opulent reality. Who was this man, really?
The door behind the desk opened. A tall man in a tailored suit walked in, holding a leather binder.
"Connor," the man said, grinning.
"Kittie," Connor said, his hand tightening around hers. "This is Clarence Dover. Our witness."
Kittie forced a smile, completely unaware she was shaking hands with one of the most powerful corporate fixers in the state.
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9.5
Gina was locked in Blackwood Asylum for five years, framed as a violent lunatic by her own wealthy family.
Her brother suddenly dragged her out, but not to save her. He forced her into an arranged marriage with Kerr Brooks, the billionaire emperor of New York, just to save the Rollins family's failing company.
Back at the estate, her parents treated her like a biohazard. They showered her adopted sister, Hailie, with love and luxury, while forcing Gina into a freezing servant's room. They threw a brutal prenuptial agreement at her face and threatened to leak a deepfake scandal video to the press if she didn't play the perfect bride. To ensure Gina's absolute ruin, Hailie even ordered a maid to spike her dinner with a massive dose of LSD. They were ruthlessly sacrificing her to a man who was secretly in a deep, unresponsive coma.
"She is just a tool, Hailie. Do not waste your pity on a broken thing."
Her mother's cold words echoed in the foyer. They looked at Gina's faded jumpsuit and vacant eyes, fully believing she was a heavily sedated pawn they could easily manipulate and discard.
But they didn't know Gina was a master hacker, a lethal underground surgeon, and the secret owner of the world's top luxury brand. She neutralized the poison in seconds and slipped into her comatose fiancé's heavily guarded ICU. Disabling the secret neuro-suppressants keeping him asleep, Gina smiled in the dark. If they wanted her to marry a corpse, she would use his empire to bury them all alive.
7.8
Warning : This book is filthy, addictive, and dangerously addictive.
Once you start... you won't want to stop.
NAUGHTY DESIRES - because some cravings are too wicked to resist.
In the velvet darkness where pleasure and pain entwine, surrender is the only choice.
A dominant stranger pins you beneath him on a bed of crimson rose petals, his hand wrapped possessively around your throat as your body trembles in helpless ecstasy. A ruthless billionaire demands your complete submission in a candlelit penthouse, turning your whispered "no" into a breathless "more." A dangerous lover drags you into the shadows, where every touch brands you, every command unravels you, and every climax leaves you aching for the next forbidden taste.
These scorching stories plunge deep into the rawest, darkest corners of desire-where powerful men take what they crave and willing women beg to be taken. No limits. No mercy. Only raw, dripping, heart-pounding heat that will ruin you for anything tame.
8.7
I woke up from a coma in the hospital, universally condemned as the vicious daughter who pushed the beloved fake heiress, Georgina, down the stairs.
My ruthless billionaire brother, Angelo, stood over my bed with cold eyes, ready to destroy me for hurting his precious sister.
But as I looked at him, a terrifying prophecy from my coma flooded my brain. Our entire family was doomed.
In the original timeline, Georgina would team up with corporate rivals to bankrupt the company, frame Angelo, and send him to federal prison, while our parents would abandon me to die miserably.
Lying there, I didn't dare speak. I just desperately cursed my idiot brother in my head.
"This stupid brother is still yelling at me for that fake heiress. He doesn't even know he's going to be framed and sent to prison next month!"
I just wanted to stay quiet, let them ruin themselves, and run away from this toxic family.
But strangely, Angelo didn't strangle me. Instead, his attitude took a shocking turn.
He abruptly fired the driver plotting to kill him, destroyed the abusive fiancé of a family ally, and publicly humiliated Georgina at a high-society gala.
He even shielded me from our abusive parents, declaring to the world that I was the only sister he would ever protect.
I was completely terrified and confused. Why was the tyrant brother suddenly acting like a protective beast?
It wasn't until he flawlessly crushed a massive corporate attack using the exact financial secrets I had just complained about in my mind that a horrifying realization hit me.
He could hear my inner thoughts!
7.1
To survive a forced one-year marriage contract with the ultra-wealthy Chavez family, Averi Marsh disguised herself as a pathetic, ugly duckling.
She caked her flawless skin in muddy yellow foundation, wore thick glasses, and played the part of a trembling, uneducated orphan.
The entire family treated her like literal garbage.
The youngest brother publicly swore he would rather cut off his own hand than marry a piece of trailer park trash.
Her nominal fiancé, Clarke, looked at her with cold disdain, allowing his glamorous companion to humiliate Averi by forcing her into a neon pink clown dress.
At a high-society party, a socialite shoved her into an infinity pool, laughing as the heavy fabric dragged her to the bottom.
They all wanted to see the poor girl broken, humiliated, and driven out of their pristine world.
What they didn't know was that beneath the hideous sweaters was a breathtaking, lethal predator.
They had no idea she was 'Spectre', the undefeated underground racing god who had just humiliated the arrogant Clarke on the track.
They didn't know she could shatter a bully's wrist in seconds or bankrupt their wealthy friends with a single text message.
But when the chlorinated pool water washed away her ugly makeup, the family's ambitious second son caught a glimpse of her true, flawless face.
The game of hide-and-seek was officially over.
The Chavez family thought they were torturing a helpless sheep, but they were about to realize they had locked themselves in a cage with a wolf.
8.0
I was the adopted daughter of the wealthy Reese family, living quietly in the shadow of their biological daughter, Asha.
After a charity gala, a drunk Asha insisted on driving her sports car, only to strike a pedestrian on a dark, wet road.
Before I could even call 911, my boyfriend Collins and the family lawyer arrived to control the scene. My adoptive father put a heavy hand on my shoulder, begging me to take the fall so their true bloodline wouldn't have a criminal record.
"I'll wait for you, Crys. I promise I'll take care of everything."
Collins whispered those words and squeezed my hand. I foolishly agreed, but in court, Collins personally submitted a fabricated statement detailing my history of severe binge drinking. The high-priced lawyer offered no defense, and I was sentenced to three years in a federal prison, completely abandoned by the family I loved.
For 1,095 days behind razor wire, I suffered the ultimate betrayal. They hadn't made a mistake; they had intentionally fed me to the wolves as a disposable sacrifice to keep their precious princess safe. I couldn't understand how the man I loved could destroy me without a single ounce of hesitation.
Upon my release, I fled to a new city with just twenty-seven dollars, deciding that surviving and living well would be my revenge. I finally found a safe haven working at a small diner. But as I drove my delivery truck downtown today, I locked eyes with Collins's best friend through the window of a luxury Bentley. The billionaires who ruined my life have found me, and the storm they tried to bury has officially arrived.
9.1
I gave up my future as a top design graduate to play the perfect trophy wife for Wall Street billionaire Dominick Carrillo.
But at a high-profile gala, he suddenly returned from his overseas trip three days early, parading a Hollywood actress on his arm.
He dropped a million dollars on her charity necklace in front of the entire Manhattan elite, publicly humiliating me.
When I confronted him with proof of his lies back at our penthouse, he threw his limitless black card at me like I was a high-priced escort.
To punish my defiance, he violently pinned me down, forcing himself on me to assert his absolute control.
The next morning, he caught me fixing the terrible architectural sketches for his new boutique hotel project.
He coldly locked my designs away in his briefcase without a second glance.
"The business world doesn't care about sketches. Just be a good Mrs. Carrillo and max out your credit cards."
I stared at the empty room as he left for a hotel, my phone buzzing with mocking texts from other socialites.
For three years, I had locked my talent in a golden cage for this marriage, only to be treated like a brainless canary and a disposable line item on his balance sheet.
The rules of this marriage were done.
I opened my laptop, found a national design competition sponsored by his biggest corporate rival, and hit submit.
I didn't apply as Mrs. Carrillo. I applied as Aubrey Middleton.