Contract Marriage With The Devil Billionaire -

She laughed. He kissed her forehead. And somewhere in the penthouse, the chef quietly canceled the order for champagne—because clearly, this was a celebration that required nothing but the two of them, a shattered contract, and a love that had never needed fine print to begin with.

“Go away,” she said.

The word love landed between them like a dead fly. Lena looked at his file—because of course he had a file on her—and saw the numbers that had been strangling her for years. The debt. The surgery. The weight. contract marriage with the devil billionaire

Dorian appeared in the doorway like a ghost. No footsteps. No warning. She laughed

She stayed. She held a cold cloth to his head, made him drink ginger tea, and read aloud from the ridiculous romance novel she’d hidden in her nightstand. He complained the entire time. But when she tried to leave for water, his hand—hot and weak—caught her wrist. “Go away,” she said

Lena looked at Dorian. His jaw was carved from marble, his eyes fixed on the cameras like a predator counting prey. “Something like that,” she said.

“And if I don’t want to leave?”