Follow
Chapters
Share
Marrying The Arrogant Billionaire  Novel Cover

Marrying The Arrogant Billionaire

Get ready for heart-pounding romantic-comedy with spicy scenes! From the very first time Boss Valerion saw Katrina, he was instantly captivated by her beauty and charm. So deeply impressed was he by her grace and personality that he immediately thought she was the perfect woman to become his son’s wife. He had provided significant help to Katrina’s family over the years, most especially to Katrina's father. Because of this debt of gratitude, her family felt compelled to honor his request, even if it meant arranging a marriage Katrina never asked for. However, she was not one to simply accept her fate. Determined to stop the marriage from happening, she goes out of her way to make herself appear less attractive and purposely acts stubborn and difficult, hoping to drive away the arrogant man she’s being forced to marry. Will the wedding still take place? Or will love unexpectedly bloom between two unlikely hearts?
Chapters
Share

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 6

KATRINA

He was this close to losing it.

His jaw tightened, locking in irritation, and he exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Why would I get lost in my own house?” he snapped. “Was this Dad’s idea?”

“Bingo,” I said, nodding with a smug little grin. “You finally figured it out. I was starting to think you weren’t going to get it at all.”

I gave an exaggerated glance around the room. “I didn’t even know this was your room, to be honest. But now it makes sense... That blanket stinks. Of course it does... someone actually uses it.”

“Can you now please go away?” he growled.

Before I could toss another comment his way, he yanked the blanket off me roughly.

I sighed loudly and stretched my arms overhead, making a show of how relaxed and unbothered I was.

But I didn’t even get to finish the stretch.

He stormed toward me, grabbed my left wrist, and pulled me off the bed in one swift, aggressive motion.

“Hey! Ow! Could you not?” I protested while wincing. “A little warning wouldn’t hurt…”

I stumbled, almost tripping over my own feet as he dragged me toward the door like I was a sack of trash he couldn’t wait to toss out.

Only when my feet touched the cold hallway floor did he finally let go.

I turned around quickly, about to say something snarky, but I was met with the loud slam of the door in my face.

He was gone.

And that door, it didn't just close. It thundered shut, the sound echoing across the entire hallway.

I just took a deep breath and turned my back once more.

I started to whistle softly as I walked toward the elevator. I wasn’t about to let this situation stress me out any further.

But just as I was about to step inside the elevator, I suddenly stopped in my tracks. The doors of Elevator 2 slid open with a soft ding.

A maid stepped out slowly.

Her movements were careful as she clutched a shimmering silver tray in both hands. A cloud of steam rose from the food neatly arranged on it.

Looked like she was headed to Pierre’s room. He probably didn’t get a chance to eat earlier.

I couldn’t help but watch her as she walked across the hallway, balancing the tray with grace.

Pierre was right, after all, their servant really did look better than I did.

I could only shake my head and let out a soft laugh at the thought. “Excuse me, Miss?” I called out before she could reach Pierre’s room.

She stopped mid-step and turned to face me.

“Yes, ma’am?” she asked politely, her voice sounding respectful.

I had a feeling she already knew who I was, which made me instinctively clear my throat, trying to sound composed. “Where’s the guest room?”

“It’s on the third floor, ma’am,” she answered promptly.

“Alright, thank you,” I replied, flashing her a small smile.

She returned the smile, and I stepped into the elevator.

She was just about to knock on Pierre’s door, and I had no intention of being around when it opened. I quickly pressed the button, eager to get away before he caught sight of me still lingering here.

The elevator took me up to the third floor. The doors slid open, and I stepped out, quietly walking through the corridor until I reached one of the rooms.

“What am I even supposed to do in here?” I muttered sarcastically under my breath as I entered. With a sigh, I closed the door behind me and turned to face the room.

It was... big and spacious.

Too much space and too little to do, I didn’t even know where to start, and before long, boredom settled in.

With nothing better to occupy myself, I gave in to the soft temptation of the bed. I lay down, just to rest my eyes for a moment, but that moment stretched on, and I ended up falling into a deep, unplanned nap.

I didn’t wake until the maid gently stirred me. “Ma’am,” she said softly. "Is already eight in the evening.”

No wonder my stomach was practically growling. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until that moment.

I quickly freshened up and made my way downstairs to the dining hall. As I stepped into the room, I saw Boss Valerion seated at the long table, dining alone under the bright, golden lights.

He looked up as the butler escorted me in, and a smile appeared on his face.

“Good evening, Katrina,” he greeted kindly.

“Good evening to you as well,” I replied politely. The butler pulled out a chair for me, and I sat down without hesitation.

“Dear," he pressed. "You have to try to get along with my son..."

I gave a small nod in response.

“I tried,” I said. “But earlier, he kicked me out of his room.”

Boss Valerion let out a small sigh, as if he’d expected this sort of behavior from Pierre. “I’ve already spoken with him,” he said calmly. “We agreed that you should be sleeping beside him... sharing the same bed.”

I blinked at him, unsure if I heard him right.

My heart gave a small jolt.

Keep Watching!
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to continue reading
Unlock All Episodes
Open the Official Website

You may also like

After Ninety-Nine Confessions, I Ruined His Empire Novel Cover
8.5
I draped the last string of fairy lights across our Manhattan apartment, my fingers trembling with anticipation. Tonight would be my 98th confession to Ethan. Just one more after this, and he would finally be mine forever. Seven years of waiting, of loving him through his coldness, would culminate in marriage—just as he promised. The dining table gleamed under soft lighting, adorned with crystal vases filled with blood-red roses I'd special ordered from his favorite florist. The scent of beef Wellington—his favorite—wafted from the kitchen where I'd spent hours perfecting every detail. I smoothed my hands over the black dress I'd chosen, the one he once said made me look 'almost as beautiful as Victoria.' I touched the small velvet box containing the Patek Philippe watch I'd saved for months to buy. My 98th confession gift. Each confession had to be accompanied by a gesture, a token of my devotion. That was the rule of our game.
Divorce After Deception Novel Cover
8.7
In the fifth year of my marriage to Jrue, he suddenly expressed his longing to become a father. A month later, I discovered I was pregnant. While organizing the house, I stumbled upon his secret. Jrue had an unattainable love, a "white moonlight" figure. He planned to give our first child to her, Lilian, who couldn't have children. Everything was part of Jrue's scheme. So, I went to the hospital to arrange an abortion and watched as he continued dreaming about a blissful future. When Thanksgiving arrived, he invited Lilian to join the family gathering. That was when I tossed the abortion paperwork in front of him, leaving him completely shattered. --- “Please schedule an abortion for me, as soon as possible.” The doctor was surprised, adjusting his slipping glasses.
Ex-Wife's Corporate Revenge Novel Cover
9.1
The weight of Andrew's jacket felt like lead in my hands. I hadn't meant to snoop—I was simply hanging it up after he'd carelessly tossed it onto our bed before rushing off to another "emergency meeting." But when the inner pocket gaped open and a small stack of hotel receipts fluttered to the floor, something made me pause. My fingers trembled as I gathered them. The Four Seasons. The Ritz-Carlton. Places where Andrew claimed to meet clients. Dates that matched nights he'd told me he was working late. I should have put them back. After seven years of marriage, I'd perfected the art of looking away, of making excuses for the lipstick stains, the lingering perfume, the missed anniversaries. But this time, I kept looking.
General He is really miserable, got divorced by his wife. Novel Cover
8.7
For three years, I played the perfect, submissive housewife to billionaire Julian Harrison. But right after an intimate night together, he coldly threw a divorce agreement onto the bed. "Scarlett landed an hour ago. I need my single status restored to welcome her back." That same night, I ended up in the emergency room and discovered I was pregnant with twins. When Julian found out, he didn't show a shred of joy. Instead, he stormed into my hospital room, threw a blank check directly at my face, and ordered me to get rid of them. He accused me of using the babies as a sick game to trap his assets. Then, his ruthless lawyer kicked me out of our penthouse, confiscating the jewelry he gifted me and tossing my worn-out notebook onto the floor like garbage. Standing in the freezing rain, my heart completely died. I had swallowed my pride, managed his life, and cooked his meals to his exact standards for three years, only to be thrown away the second his first love returned. But he didn't know that the notebook his lawyer discarded contained the secret formulas of Aura Beauty, a billion-dollar empire I built in the shadows. I tore his check into pieces, blocked his number, and left in a Maybach sent by my associate. Logging into my global CEO database, I looked at his company's fragile stock chart with a predatory smile. The docile Mrs. Harrison died in the rain. It was time to crush his empire.
Jilted Heiress: Rising From The Ashes Novel Cover
9.4
I stood in the center of my Manhattan penthouse, staring at the empty satin hanger where my custom Vera Wang gown should have been. It was a masterpiece of silk and pearls that had taken six months to perfect for my wedding to the billionaire heir, Boston Travis. Then my phone buzzed. Boston’s voice was a flat line, devoid of the love he’d promised me for four years. "The wedding is off, Florrie. I’m marrying your sister, Asia." He told me Asia was dying of Stage 4 cancer and her "final wish" was to be a bride—wearing my dress. He had sent his security team to my home with a spare key to steal the gown, claiming it was Travis property since his family accounts paid the bill. My stepmother texted me minutes later, demanding I vacate my own beach house so the "dying" girl could have a honeymoon. When I tried to protest, Boston snapped at me. "How could you be so heartless? She’s your sister. Have some compassion." They expected me to play the part of the discarded woman while they paraded my life around as a PR stunt. I realized then that Asia hadn't just taken my dress; she had spent her entire life stealing my father's love and my peace, always playing the fragile angel while I was cast as the villain. I didn't cry. I sat at my desk, opened my contacts, and relabeled Boston Travis as "TARGET." If they wanted a tragic story, I would give them a massacre. I reclaimed my mother’s multi-million dollar trust, seized the deed to the beach house, and walked into Asia’s hospital room with a lit sparkler to expose the truth behind her "terminal" illness. As I slapped Boston in the hospital lobby in front of a dozen recording iPhones, I realized I didn't need a husband. I needed a clean slate—and I was going to burn their empire to get it.
Reclaiming Life After Love Novel Cover
9.3
The Mediterranean sun cast golden ripples across the cruise ship's pristine deck as I adjusted the silk scarf around my neck, hiding the faint scar where my mechanical heart had been installed seven years ago. The *Serenity of the Seas* was everything I'd dreamed of for our anniversary celebration—elegant, romantic, and far from the pressures of Henderson Corporation. "Axl, look at this sunset," I called softly, turning toward our private balcony suite. But he was hunched over his phone again, his jaw tense as his fingers flew across the screen. The golden light caught the planes of his face, the same face I'd fallen in love with, now shadowed with something I couldn't name. "Just give me a minute, Katherine." His voice carried that familiar edge of irritation that had become more frequent over the past few months. "Important business." I pressed my lips together, swallowing the hurt. Seven years of marriage, and he still couldn't put his phone down for our anniversary dinner. The mechanical whir in my chest seemed louder in the silence, a constant reminder of what I'd given up for this man—my heart, my skating career, my dreams. "Of course," I murmured, smoothing down my emerald dress.