The Billionaire's Good Girl. Not.

pte

eally hungry. I sped up my arrangement and went to shower. I hurriedly showered then went downstairs to make dinner. I'm just curious, you know. The driver said he wanted to see me at the Manor, well here

t for him on the sofa. I sat on the cream sofa, hugging my knees and watching the wall clock tick by. Midnight came soon en

ot tired of wait

fled laughter and the clink of

bare feet and it dire

ight, glaring against my tired

e had ruffled it all night. She wore a man'

with a smirk that carved me open. Her eyes

words. The mes

t the onl

lowed. My ha

steps steady as I retreated down the

my ears. The faint scent of his cologne clung t

id

n't an a

here-to spit on our marri

f his voice carried down the hall, casual and dismissive, as

ling at my limbs. I forced myself to leave the safety of my room. My bare

ffortless way that probably charmed other women. He poured amber liquid into a glass as though th

her through these halls like-like I don't exist. Firstly, you dump me in this empty house and make me a caretaker, a maid for you and your precious marble palace, and then

his gaze on me. The silence stretched, thick, unt

n his eyes. But then it hardened into someth

He set the glass down, leaned against the counter, and let his gaze sweep over me like I was something beneath his shoes. "You think wear

, but he w

lp your wretched father and marry you, you have a say in this ho

t tight. My fingers curled at my sides, nails biting into

ed his back, swirling his drink like the

echo of his words clung to me

ce with water, scrubbing as if I could wash away the humiliation. But the sting in my chest remaine

he made with his mistress on that day, the soiled bedsheets and littered cl

ace this for the

e ever