Mr. Billionaire Contracted Bride
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Lisa's grandma requires surgery, which will cost a large quantity of money. Since she has nowhere else to turn, she decides to ask her billionaire employer, Damien, for assistance. Damien rejects the idea of marriage and a happy ever after, but he wants a wife so that his mother would stop bugging him. He intends to divorce after a year to show his mother that marriage isn't for him. Lisa contacts him when she needs assistance, and a contract is signed with no conditions. They were going to part ways after a year. What will happen after a night of intoxicated lust between them? Will Lisa be able to put up with his mistreatment for only a year or will she depart before their marriage is officially over? Will Damien let Lisa leave after planting his seed inside her or will he track her down?
I glance at the photo of my boss and other information about him on my laptop as I gently bite my bottom lips and sigh in annoyance as I spin my chair around my little office.
Even though Juliet's advice is something I really want to do, I am terrified.
I'm afraid of my boss.
I was concerned about how he would perceive me.
He had criticized me for being clumsy, so I was afraid he would do the same to me.
But I'm going to try it anyhow. He has to help me. My goal is for my granny to live long enough to see my white wedding and the visits from my children while I'm at work.
If I don't inform my employer about the apparent support I need, how can I assure Grandma's survival? Where can I locate the money the doctor requested from us? Will Grandma be alive when I get married in four or five years?
I twist my straight black hair and close my eyes, daydreaming about the attractive guy I met at the club Juliet and I visited last week. I thought I had finally found myself a rich, gorgeous boyfriend until he requested me to give him a blowjob in the pub.
Gosh! I was very humiliated.
I thought that was it, and I was excited to have my first sex, but as he explained how he enjoys sex, I knew I had to go.
He loves having sex, thus he takes pleasure in striking women.
The buzzing sound of the intercom unexpectedly wakes me up. I pick up the intercom and stoically swivel back in the chair.
Damien Alex Russell, my boss, has taught me to put my issues on wait while working.
He abhors acting irresponsibly.
Sometimes I used to wonder why I hadn't been fired since he hates clumsy employees.
I question what I was just thinking as he yells "Ms. Romano" over the intercom.
As I pay close attention, I provide a "Yes, sir" in response. I don't want to miss anything.
Come to my office immediately, he demands firmly.
He hangs up the phone before I can answer, and I follow suit, taking a moment to center myself and take deep breaths to help me talk about my problems when I finally reach his office.
I just want to be sure he's happy. Today's decision will be made using Juliet's advice, which will be put to good use. If he doesn't help me, I'll be obliged to look for Frederick Alberto, the man who likes hurting women.
I quickly leave my office and go over to my boss's office. I had gone to deliver him coffee an hour ago, but he hadn't even looked at me.
I'm curious as to why he's requesting my presence right now. He constantly tells me everything I need to do over the phone, except for anything important.
My heart is racing as I wait outside the door and quietly tap.
I enter after receiving a "Yes" response from him.
I see him writing on a blank sheet of paper while his laptop is open in front of him. He seemed to be busy. He doesn't want to be interrupted when he's working, as far as I know.
What does he want?
Upon hearing me say, "I'm here, sir," he immediately turns to face me.
"Sit!" I go to the chair next to his enormous desk, which is covered in a mountain of documents, while he issues the instruction.
He looks at me sternly and says, "Adrian Peterson sent an email, and you didn't let me know about it."
I swallow a knot and mentally reprimand myself for wasting my time looking for his details online rather than starting work. I didn't read the emails.
My hands shake on my lap as I reply, "I checked the mail before leaving work on Saturday, I guess it just came in this morning." They are sweating from my worry.
He didn't appear persuaded. You haven't been in your place of employment, have you? "I have."
What have you been doing, then? He does so formally.
He typically yells at me, so I'm surprised that he isn't doing that today.
Does this portend well? Should I keep discussing my problems with him?
I follow his cue to grab the file he moves for. Check your mail before you start working on this file. Please organize them alphabetically before delivering this file, and then reply to his email. By noon, I must have them.
I humbly say, "Ok, sir," and take the document away from him.
He nods and replies, "Good." "You are free to leave at this time."
I nod and get up, biting on my lower lip as I consider whether to tell him about my problem now or wait until after I do my first task for the day.
"What? Why are you still around? He's staring up at me and has the pen in his hand.
I shook my head and stopped believing in myself. expressing regret and saying "I'm sorry."
I stop moving and close my eyes when he instructs me to "Wait" with unrelenting harshness. I'm working on developing more guts and confidence.
I have to finish this. Grandma needs this.
I reversed direction and lowered my head. I need to share something with you, sir.
A pause is made.
He doesn't say anything, and I raise an eyebrow. Why is he silent? He is just watching me while holding his two hands right below his jaw.
I decided to continue. I mutter and fumble with my fingers, "Hmmm...I need a favor, sir." "My grandmother needs surgery to get her legs mended. I have to give the doctor a down payment.
"What do you want?" is a question. He cut me off out of impatience.
Before I speak, I exhale slowly and deeply and say a quiet prayer. $20 000 is required for the operation. I want to request a loan from the company, which I would pay back with my wages.
He appeared shocked, so I wonder whether he'll help out. Do you want to get a year's worth of wages upfront?
The truth hits me hard. Even the arithmetic I didn't do. I'll be required to pay grandma's wages for a whole year.
I nod modestly.
He leans back in the chair and watches me closely, giving me a long, serious look.
I look away as his eyes pierce me deeply out of concern that if our eyes meet, he would refuse to help me.
My heart beat faster from excitement.
I'm passing away in silence.
He will either help or he won't. He only needs to say if it's a yes or no.
Anything he says, I'll take it with a smile; it's not the end of the world. I'm just going to choose my last option.
become Frederick's harlot.
He adds, "I will help you," and as he does, my heart skips a beat and my mouth drops open in disbelief.
I have a tremendous sense of relief and almost break down in tears of thanks.
All the best to you! I make a secret prayer.
"Thank you, sir," I say joyfully, and a smile spreads over my face. "Thank you very much, Mr. God's blessings are upon you.
a predicate? He interrupts me with an expressionless face and says, "But there is a condition attached." What situation? I question myself as I crease my lips.
My pulse accelerates once again. beating violently as though it will soon burst out of my chest.
Without even flinching, he boldly states, "I want you to be my wife."
His words don't truly sink into my brain for a while.
It is fully digested before I shout out in pure astonishment. "What?!"
He sometimes nods "Yes." But it will only endure for a year.
Two years have already passed.
Two years of f***ing torture. Two years ago, she went away with my infant.
I've gone through the phase of recalling our evening together and the circumstances that led to our dispute just before she went away.
Pure agony and hatred for who I am and what I stand for has always been the only emotions present.
I still bear some guilt for her passing.
Maybe if I had simply listened to her and given up on the dangerous family business, as she used to call it, we might still be together and have our child.
I did not, however. I was unwilling to give up the way of life I had known growing up. My father was the Mafia's boss. Helena interfered with my efforts to become one as well.
She detested what we do utterly. She pushed me into ending partnerships by encouraging me to do so in every way possible. I found it difficult. I adored the work that we produced. I loved having the reins. Shaming the
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