Billionaire’s

Is proper thinking required! I pondered this question as I sat in the club, my head throbbing with pain. Against my better judgment, I had agreed to accompany Abigail tonight, despite always having the option to decline. I had made a promise, after all.

** 22 6

Abigail desired to get laid, a fact I acknowledged while still respecting our differences in belief. Perhaps it was a matter of perspective, but ever since high school, we had been inseparable. Even my parents liked her, and I trusted that she wouldn’t sway me into trying things I didn’t want to.

One of those things happened to be heavy drinking, except for wine.

As we sat on the bar stools, I sipped my wine while absentmindedly scrolling through my private social media account on my phone. I came across some holy posts, and it made me cringe, realizing the stark contrast between this unholy place and the ideals I held dear.

In that moment, I noticed the unusual silence emanating from Abigail by my side. You seem quiet. Is something bothering you?” I inquired, tucking my phone into the pocket of my sweater.

I admired the way her black dress clung to her figure, accentuating her alluring curves. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. Such a physique was unattainable for me. Her dyed brown hair was fashioned into a messy bun, and her pretty face betrayed no expression. She seemed lost in deep thought. It was a cause for concern.

Did she still miss Blake! It had been almost three y years since he left her at the altar. I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t moved on, and neither could Abigail

“Abi, are you alright? Is this about Blake?” I whispered, noticing her tight grip on the glass she held.

“No, it’s not about him,” she replied, shaking her head.

“Then what is it?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, perplexed by her behavior.

nothing for you to worry about. Are you okay being alone here? I need a break,” she said, her face suddenly devoid of worry as a mischievous smile played on her lips.

I nodded, knowing she had something planned for the night. However, I couldn’t help but feel the need to ensure that the man she left with wasn’t a psychopath or a killer. I had become somewhat obsessed with that idea, though I knew it was irrational.

As I watched Abigail stride toward the dance floor, it took her no more than a minute to find a man to accompany her. She possessed a magnetic charisma, coupled with her beautiful body and face. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in being her friend. I hoped she had moved on, forgetting about that despicable man.

With a sigh. I finished the wine in my glass. I realized it had been months since I had indulged in such a luxury. My life had been consumed by freelancing and creating designs, leaving me with little time for anything else. Yet, I still found myself in the midst of a personal crisis, uncertain about what I truly wanted in life.

That’s what I enjoyed, but my lethargic nature was starting to weigh me down with a sense of melancholy. It was amusing, yes, but it wasn’t what I desired at this moment. Perhaps I should consider applying for a job. But then, what kind of job? 1 lacked experience in anything other than graphic design.

Lost in my thoughts, I was abruptly interrupted by the bartender who placed a glass of wine and another unfamiliar drink in front of me.

“I didn’t order this I pointed out to the bartender. He was older than me, but undeniably attractive. If he had any intentions of trying me, I wasn’t interested. I had enough on my plate already, and getting involved in a relationship was far from ideal.

to pursue

“The man over there asked me to give it to you,” he responded, gesturing towards a table occupied by three well–dressed men sporting stylish shirts, jeans, and expensive leather jackets emanating a distinct male fragrance. The scent made my nose crinkle in distaste. One of the men at the table

winked at me.

Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I mentally added him to the list of guys I disliked. I redirected my attention back to the bartender, pushing the unwanted drink away.

Thank you

but I don’t drink such things. Could you please bring it back to him?” I spoke in a polite tone, careful not to come across as sarcastic or hurtful. The bartender hesitated, his gaze fixed on me, contemplating whether to return the drink to its sender. “Please? I apologize if I’m wasting your time, but would you mind?” I added, offering a smile.

He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, grappling with the decision. Was it truly difficult for him to simply return the drink? He finally reached out to take it, but another hand intercepted him, snatching the glass away on behalf of an unknown intruder. Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I maintained a polite smile, signaling to the intruder that the drink was not meant for him. I gazed at him, but all faded away, as it his presence held no significance.

The man who had given me the drink now occupied the seat previously belonging to Abigail. His long thigh brushed against mine, causing my brows to furrow. A cocky smile adorned his handsome face, while his deep brown eyes stared intensely at me

He once again pushed the glass in my direction and said, “It’s a treat, honey. And don’t worry about payment, it’s all on me. His deep, low voice sent a shiver down my spine, sounding both sexy and husky in my ears.

As 1 inhaled his fragrance, it proved to be pleasing to my senses. It had a smoothness to it, sweet and spicy, defying my expectations of something harsh. His gaze roamed over my entire body, his smile widening.

I was dressed in a maroon dress, modest with long sleeves and reaching below the knee, discreetly hidden beneath my sweater. Even with my hair loose and my fake eyeglasses, I had hoped it would send a clear signal to anyone that I wasn’t interested in being disturbed. Cisual encounters were not my cup of tea.

“I only drink wine. Excuse me, I would like to be alone,” I stated bluntly, shifting my gaze to my drink. I didn’t care what he thought, and I simply disliked his presence. He wasn’t being overtly lewd, but there was something about his type that irked me. The notion that they could have whatever they desired solely because of their good looks.

“A wine, then. How about a whole bottle?” he asked, attempting to be friendly and gesturing to the bartender. My frown deepened as I regarded him with a serious expression. Before I knew it, the bartender returned with an entire boule of expensive wine.

“Can you not understand that I don’t want to be disturbed” I munered, trying to make it clear that my patience had limits. It seemed like I was being more than accommodating

He raised his hand in a gesture of awkwardness, his cockiness replaced by a shy smile. His eyes locked onto mine, as if trying to analyze my reaction

“I’m just trying to be friendly,” he said, in a tone that conveyed a sense of resignation, as if he had no other options

It was difficult for me to suppress my bitchy tendencies towards people I presumed had ulterior motives, I glanced at him, his hand firmly planted on the counter, expertly opening the wine bottle and pouring it into a glass. My gaze trailed down his broad back, tapering into a narrow waist. He was dressed in a simple dark green shirt and black jeans, a typical attire for an average guy spending his day at a bar. But I couldn’t comprehend why he was so insistent on being friendly with me.

“Would you like some?” he asked, his eyes glancing towards the wine, even though my glass remained untouched. A faint half–smile played on his thin lips. “Rest assured, there are no drugs in it, in case that’s a concern for you,” he added

I found myself staring into his captivating eyes. His overall features were undeniably attractive, but it was his eyes that held the most expressiveness. There was nothing menacing in them, and he genuinely seemed to be nice.

However, one question continued to bother me why did he feel the need to approach me and extend his friendliness? It all seemed rather peculiar.

“Is this some sort of bet?” I questioned, using my index finger to gesture between the two of us. “Am I right about that?”

His smile grew, accompanied by a light chuckle. “No, it’s not a bet. Did Abigail tell you something?”

What’s p

part of Abigail with him being here? She never said something

“No.” I trailed off, my mind grappling to find an answer to his puzzling statement.

His smile widened as he turned his gaze towards Abigail, who was engaged in conversation with the man near the dance floor. They appeared to be sharing a moment of laughter, presumably over a joke Abigail had whispered to him.

“She asked me to talk to you about the proposal I am offering,” he uttered, glancing back at Abigail once more.

My forehead furrowed even further. “Proposal?”

“Yes. Abigail requested that I make this offer to you. you accept your father will be freed from jail”

It was

my cousin who pleaded with me, and I agreed, although she is asking for too much. If

My eyes widened in astonishment. Only Abigail was aware of my father’s wrongful imprisonment, a secret I had entrusted solely to her. I had been diligently saving money to prove his innocence, to hire a skilled lawyer and surprise my grieving mother with the news that her husband would be

Met Tree.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of temptation pressing upon me. The prospect of my mother’s happiness hung in the balance. But what would

the price I had to pay in returnt.

“What proposal” I asked cautiously, my voice betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehensi

He picked up the glass, taking a sip of seine. “I will secure your father’s freedom from prison. In return, you i will give me something”

“I don’t understand,” I replied, my confusion mounting.

“Give me a child, an heir,” he stated, his words sinking in with a heavy impact.