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The Ruthless Heir's Five Million Bride Novel Cover

The Ruthless Heir's Five Million Bride

I dragged a bleeding man out of a flooded alley to get the five million dollars he promised me. He woke up with severe amnesia, so I hid him in my cramped apartment, desperate to secure the cash for my seven-year-old son's life-saving asthma medication. But while washing his ruined, custom-tailored suit, I found a heavy gold signet ring hidden inside the seam. It was deeply engraved with a vicious falcon gripping a broadsword. My blood instantly ran cold. Ten years ago, the ruthless Wall Street billionaire who dismantled my father's company and drove my parents to suicide wore that exact ring. I had just saved the monster who destroyed my family, and now he was sleeping in my bed, right down the hall from my little boy. I stood in the kitchen, gripping a heavy butcher knife until my knuckles turned white. He was completely helpless in the next room, burning with a severe infection. I could drive the blade into his chest right now and finally end this ten-year nightmare. But then I looked at the astronomical pharmacy bills and the eviction notices pinned to the fridge. Vengeance wouldn't buy my son's next breath. "I am not interested in you, I am only interested in your money." I put the knife down, grabbed the medical supplies, and walked into the bedroom to nurse my sworn enemy back to health. Revenge could wait, but until I got my five million, the devil was mine to keep.
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Chapter 3

Donat shifted his weight, attempting to swing his legs over the edge of the mattress.

A sharp intake of breath hissed through his teeth as the torn muscles in his abdomen stretched.

He looked down at his legs. His custom-tailored trousers were ruined, stiff with dried mud and his own coagulated blood. His upper lip curled in profound disgust.

"Get me clean clothes," he ordered, not even looking at Elsie.

Elsie's jaw tightened. She rolled her eyes, marched over to the small, rickety closet, and yanked open the bottom drawer.

She pulled out a pair of faded, gray Walmart sweatpants that belonged to her ex-husband. They were pilling at the thighs. She tossed them onto the bed.

Donat stared at the gray fabric. He reached out, pinching the waistband between two fingers as if holding a dead rat.

"I am not wearing this garbage," he said flatly. "Go buy silk."

Elsie crossed her arms over her chest. "You're a fugitive bleeding on my mattress. You don't get to demand silk."

Donat glared at her. He dropped the sweatpants and reached for his leather belt.

His fingers were pale, trembling slightly from the blood loss. He fumbled with the heavy silver buckle. The metal pin slipped, jamming tightly into the leather notch.

He yanked at it. It didn't budge.

"Fuck," he muttered, frustration radiating from his rigid shoulders.

He looked up. His dark eyes pinned Elsie to the spot. He gave a sharp tilt of his head, a silent, arrogant command for her to approach.

Elsie's face flooded with heat. She took a step back. "I am not taking your pants off."

Donat's lips curved into a wicked, mocking smirk. "Are you a puritan, or just terrified of what you might see?"

The insult hit its mark. Elsie's temper flared, burning away her embarrassment. She stomped over to the bed, leaning over his lap.

She grabbed the cold metal buckle with both hands. She yanked hard.

Because of the angle, her face was hovering directly over his exposed stomach. Her warm breath puffed rhythmically against his bare, taut skin.

Donat's abdominal muscles violently contracted. His Adam's apple bobbed. The air between them suddenly felt thick, heavy with an electric tension.

Elsie's knuckles accidentally brushed against the warm skin just below his navel.

A jolt of electricity shot up her arm. She flinched.

With a loud click, the buckle finally gave way.

Elsie let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She grabbed the waistband of his ruined trousers and gave a hard, downward yank, pulling them down to his knees.

Donat watched the bright red flush spreading down her neck. A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest.

Elsie snatched her hands back, humiliated. She spun around to walk away.

Her heel came down hard on the slick, severed piece of plastic zip tie she had left on the floor.

Her foot shot out from under her.

Elsie twisted her torso violently to catch her balance. A blinding spike of pain erupted in her lower back-an old injury from carrying heavy trays.

She cried out, her legs giving out completely. She fell backward, straight toward the bed.

Donat's arms shot out on pure reflex.

He caught her.

Elsie crashed heavily against him. Her face buried directly into the hard, warm expanse of his bare chest. Her hands instinctively clamped down on his broad shoulders.

They were pressed together seamlessly. His bare thighs bracketed her hips.

Donat ignored the burning pain in his gut. He lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"Lonely single mother?" he whispered, his voice thick with amusement. "Couldn't wait?"

Elsie's entire body burned with mortification. She planted her hands on his chest, ready to shove herself off and scream at him.

The sound of metal grinding against metal echoed in the small apartment.

The front door unlocked.

Mrs. Brenda pushed the door open, balancing a steaming glass dish in her hands. "Elsie, honey, I brought you some-"

Brenda stopped dead in the doorway.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as she stared at the bed. Elsie straddling a half-naked, incredibly built man whose pants were around his knees.

Brenda's mouth fell open.

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