Mr Ceo Contracted Wife
Twenty three years Lisa, has it all brains, beauty and a thriving career as an interior designer.
What she doesn't have is any interest in marriage, especially not to Thomas Nicklson, Her family's arrogant business partner's son. She would rather stay single forever than be shackled to him.
To escape the unwanted marriage, Lisa
takes her best friend's advice and hires James, a charming stranger she meets in a gay bar, to pose as her fiancé. The deal is simple: pretend to be in love for a year, keep her parents at pay, and then walk away. Easy
Until the line between real and fake begins to blur.
What Lisa doesn't know is that James is hiding a secret big enough to change everything, and falling for her fake fiancé might be the riskiest move of all.
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Chapter 3
"Lisa Pov "
I called my lawyer about preparing the marriage papers. And then I realised that I didn't even know James' surname.
Great. Just great.
I picked up my phone and dialled his number. It rang a few times, I was about to give up when he finally answered.
"Hello, gorgeous."
"Hello, Mr. James," I said awkwardly.
He chuckled. "Please. you don't need to be formal around me, just call me James."
"Um...I actually to ask for your full name; my lawyer is arranging the marriage agreement,
And I needed it ."
"Harper, James Harper, " he said smoothly.
"Okay. And if you don't mind...my family wants to see you next Sunday for dinner."
"I don't mind, and don't forget to send me the contract before we officially sign it; I want my lawyer to revise it"
"Yes, sure. Thank you, James. Have a nice day."
"No need to thank me..my lily."
I hung up the phone.
Hmmmm.
James Harper.
Could he be the famous James Harper, the billionaire?
I googled his name, and my doubts were true.
He's a fucking billionaire!
The Tabloid playboy.
The man whose name alone could buy half the city.
But whst the hell was a man like that doing pretending to be an average guy in a gay bar?
I will confront him about this later.
I kept scrolling
There he was pictures with different women expensive cars, gala events.
Wow, he's really good at covering covering up his "sexuality".
He must not be ready to come out yet.
I sighed.
Look like my fake fiancé comes with a lot of secrets.
"James Pov"
"I'm getting married, boys, " I said taking a sip of my whisky.
Connor and Graham exploded laughing so hard the table shook. We are at one of my clubs enjoining our usual boys' night out.
"Are you high? That must have been some strong shit," Graham whezzed.
"I'm not high, and I I'm not drunk, you leashes."
"So did hit your head?" Connor asked.
"No.. I'm serious, I'm getting married," I said flatly.
Connor choked on his drink. "Fucking no way. The almighty James Harper, the king of womanizers is getting married?"
"Actually.." I paused for a dramatic look effect.
"I'm gay now."
"What the fuck, man?" Graham yelled.
"Are you marrying a man?" Connor
asked, eyes wide.
"No! Calm your asses down."
I told them everything meeting Liza at my brother's gay bar, her thinking I was gay, her offer, the contract, the money, all of it.
Connor whistled, "And how exactly do you plsn on convincing her to have sex with you, smartass?"
"Don't worry, I have my ways." I said with a smirk.
"Let's make a bet". Conor pulled out his phone and hit the record button.
"If you succeed in fucking her, I will give you my Ferrari; if you fail, you will give me your brand new Bugatti."
I grinned. "Deal."
We shook hands.
Grahom frowned. "And what if you actually fall for her all the way? And she finds out the truth?
I laughed. "No way I will fall for that girl; I'm after her body, not for her heart. And I don't care if she finds out after I get into her pants."
"You a fake boyfriend for this story though." Graham said cautiously.
"Correct, whitch means, Connor... congratulations. You're my boyfriend." I said.
Connor groaned. "Hell no."
"If you refuse, the bet is off."
He sighed heavily. " Fine. Whatever."
****************
"How come you didn't tell me that you are the famous James Harper, the business tycoon?" Liza asked.
We are having dinner together to discuss the marriage contract.
"Like you said, I'm James Harper, the multi-billionaire. I don't exactly need to introduce myself to anyone," I smirked.
"Cocky much," she snorted.
I chuckled
"You're very good at hiding your sexual identity; I'm impressed. You're a complete womanizer in the tabloids. Why haven't you come out ? It's normal nowadays to express your sexual preferences in the eyes of the public." She said.
"My parents are extremely religious, if they found out I liked man, they would cut me off." I said calmly.
She nodded sympathetically. "I get that, as I come from an old-fashioned family too, they don't believe in sex before marriage, and having kids out of wedlock. They have been trying to arrange my marriage since I turned nineteen years old. You should have seen their faces when I told them that I'm pregnant with your baby," she
I looked at her bantering about her family, and a small smile curved around my lips.
She really likes provoking her family and annoying them.
I really like her smiling face and her joyful self.
"I told them that we would have dinner tomorrow, they have been insisting on meeting you."
" I don't mind."
"Thank you a lot for helping me. Even though I still don't know why you agreed, you clearly don't need my money." She added.
"You were desperate for my help; I'm doing you a favor." I said lightly.
She rolled her eyes playfully.
"No, seriously, this fake agreement is a benefit for the two of us.You need a fake fiancé and future husband to save yourself from an arranged marriage to someone you despise. For me, I get to keep my sexuality hidden from my family and save my heritage," I winked at her.
"This is the marriage agreement; if you are okay with the clauses, we can go ahead with marriage procedures." She said, handing me the contract.
"Okay, I will give it to my lawyers to check."
She nodded.
"Can we go home now? It's getting late, and I have early work tomorrow."
"Of course, let me drive you."
I drove her to her building.
"Thank you for the evening; I really had a good time."
"Me too; I enjoyed your company."
"So goodnight; see you tomorrow."
"Allow me to walk you to your apartment."
"No need; I can go by myself."
"I insist."
"Okay"
We got to her apartment, and she unlocked her door.
"Thank you again, James, for the evening,"
and she kissed my cheek.
"Goodnight"
"Goodnight, angel."
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9.3
She was never supposed to be the bride.
Lila Hart has always lived in her older sister's shadow, Evelyn, the perfect daughter, the favorite, the one chosen to marry Adrian Blackwell, the cold, powerful billionaire heir who controls half of Manhattan. But forty-eight hours before the wedding, Evelyn disappears. No explanation, No goodbye. Just a single warning: "Don't let him find out what I did."
Now the Hart family is about to lose everything, their reputation, their company, their future, unless Lila steps into the role her sister abandoned.
So Lila becomes the replacement bride
A marriage born out of duty for her... and pure anger for him.
Adrian doesn't want a wife, He wants answers. And he's certain Lila knows more about Evelyn's disappearance than she claims. They swear they'll keep their distance, No love,No trust, Just a contract neither of them asked for.
But the night of the wedding, a violent warning arrives, proving Evelyn didn't run away, She was taken. And whoever has her... wants Lila next.
Now Lila is trapped in a marriage built on secrets, hunted by enemies she can't see, and falling for a man she was never supposed to love.
Because the most dangerous place for her... might be right beside her husband.
7.6
I was the ultimate trophy wife, a polished ornament in Francisco Zimmerman’s billionaire empire. For three years, I perfected the "Zimmerman Wife Smile," playing the role of the devoted partner while smoothing the Egyptian cotton of his shirts.
The illusion shattered when I stood outside his study and heard him laughing with his mistress, Annalise.
"She’s just a vase that only knows how to smile," Francisco’s voice was cold, devoid of any warmth. "As long as I pay the maintenance fees on time, she stays obedient."
I walked out that night with nothing but a canvas bag and the clothes on my back. But Francisco wasn't finished with his "asset." He froze my bank accounts and used his massive influence to blacklist me from every interior design firm in New York. He tracked my phone, watching me struggle from the shadows, waiting for me to starve so I would crawl back to his mansion.
He even showed up at the dive bar where I was playing piano for rent money, mocking my desperation.
"You have technique, but no heart," he sneered, tossing a silver coin into my tip jar as if I were a beggar. "You're hollow, Iris. Just like your pride."
I couldn't believe this was the same man whose life I had saved during a bloody night in Macau. To him, I wasn't a wife; I was a stock price that needed stabilizing. The more I fought for my independence, the tighter he pulled the net, determined to break my spirit until I had no choice but to return to his gilded cage.
Then, the morning sickness hit. I realized I wasn't just carrying my own life anymore—I was carrying his heir. If Francisco found out, he would never let us go; he would turn my child into another "performance bonus" for his brand.
Looking at the sonogram, I knew a divorce would never be enough to escape a man who thought he owned the world.
"I'm not going back," I whispered, staring at his yacht moored in the harbor. "To save this baby, Iris Potter has to die."
7.7
I stood in a fifty-thousand-dollar Vera Wang gown, waiting to seal the merger of the century between the Singleton and English families. Everything was perfect, fragile, and obscenely expensive.
But minutes before the ceremony, my brother burst into the bridal suite looking like he’d seen a ghost. He handed me a crumpled note from Jeffery, the man I was supposed to marry.
"I can’t do it," the note read. "I’m choosing love." Jeffery had fled to Paris with another woman, leaving me to face two thousand guests and a family legacy that would plummet forty percent by Monday morning.
Harrison Singleton, the family patriarch, didn't offer sympathy; he offered a cold ultimatum. The wedding would happen, with or without Jeffery. He stepped aside to reveal Declan Singleton, the "Wolf of Wall Street" who had spent the last year ruthlessly stripping my father’s companies for parts.
To save my family from bankruptcy, I had to walk down the aisle and marry the man I hated most. At the altar, Declan didn’t just say "I do"; he claimed me with a kiss so possessive it felt like a sentencing.
The humiliation was physical, a knife twisting in my gut as the world watched the "hostile takeover" of my life. I was a spoil of war, traded to a predator who believed in leverage over love.
Then, Jeffery called, weeping about his mistake and begging to come back. I looked at the massive, perfectly-sized diamond Declan had already prepared for me and realized this wasn't a coincidence.
I wiped away my tears and straightened my emerald silk. If I had to live in a cage, I was going to make sure I had the sharpest teeth.
"Let's go to war," I whispered to my new husband.
7.1
Warning: R18+
His pierced cock thrust deep, the metal barbell dragging along my G-spot with every relentless stroke, sending shockwaves that made me scream his name. I came again hard, squirting around him while he growled "mine" and filled me bare, hot pulses claiming every inch inside me.
Thirty minutes earlier I'd been drowning in heartbreak and gin at a Mayfair club.
Now I was unraveling in a billionaire's penthouse, owned by a stranger whose name I still didn't know.
One forbidden night.
No names. No promises.
Or so I thought.
One reckless night with a stranger ignites a billionaire's obsession.
Elara thought it was over at dawn.
Damian Blackwood doesn't let go.
When her world crumbles, he offers salvation-with strings: Become his contract wife.
One forbidden night becomes a lifetime of possession...
7.7
Silas Vane, a billionaire on the edge of ruin, needs his ex-wife's signature to save his tech empire-and June Ashby, his scorned orchard-owning ex, wants only one thing: to make him suffer.
The deal is brutal, simple, and non-negotiable: Silas must move back to their small hometown, trade his silk suits for calloused hands, and work the orchard harvest for six months. Worse? He has to play her doting husband for the press-fake marriage, real contract, no room for error.
What starts as a revenge-fueled game quickly spirals. As the sun dips below the orchard trees, old sparks reignite, and the line between fake and real blurs into something dangerous.
Silas came to town for a patent to save his empire. But he might just walk away with a broken contract-and a heart completely owned by the woman who set out to destroy him.
8.7
On the night of her engagement, Lila Hart discovers that her fiancé isn't just cheating-he's selling her to the cruel Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack to settle a debt.
Dragged into the arms of Damien Blackwood, a ruthless billionaire Alpha feared across the werewolf world, Lila vows to escape. But Damien isn't what he seems-behind his icy exterior lies a dangerous secret... one that ties Lila to him in ways neither can deny.