THE BILLIONAIRE'S CRYBABY
[SLOW BURN} (CHECK OUT MY NEW MAFIA ROMANCE. OUT NOW!) "You can't hurt me anymore, Ace. I'm not that crybaby you used to know," she warned, taking a step back. "Who said anything about hurting anyone, darling? There's only one place I need to cry for me. One very," his eyes trailed down her body, and stopped between her thighs. "Very moist place." He took two steps forward, and closed the gap between them. Ace is the legitimate heir to the Atticus dynasty, but there's a condition. Grandpa before his death says he cannot fully inherit everything until he gets married, and stays married for at least a year. Quick to think, he finds a solution to his dilemma; A contract marriage. With the help of his personal assistant, Grant, He finds Fay Landon. Dainty Fay that cries a lot, and can talk a storm. He vows it's only a marriage of convenience, until the redhead let's her hair down, and shows him the woman behind the tears. She falls first, but he falls harder. In the middle of the war for a billion dollar empire, heartless Ace Atticus will learn that to come out victorious, he needs a Fay up his sleeve. THIRD MONTH OF WIN-WIN. PLEASE SUPPORT ME WITH YOUR VOTES, COLLECTIONS, REVIEWS, COMMENTS, AND GIFTS. THANK YOU.
CAMERA SHUTTER, CLICKING HEEL
The wind returned his words back to his ears, and he sighed. With resignation, and acceptance at the fact he couldn't just continue with life until he was certain Fay was okay, he went into his car, and drove off.
He spent the next two hours driving around. By the time he returned to the parking lot of the hospital, his hand felt sore.
"Here we go again," he muttered, as he stepped out of the car.
He had taken just two steps forward when he felt a flash. Instinctively, he covered his face, and hastened his steps.
"It's just 2am for heaven's sake!" His mind screamed, as he hurried into the lobby.
His head grew hot, and clouded with thoughts. The press had found out. Someone leaked his private information to them. If only he listened to Cam and insisted on an NDA.
"Good evening si—" the workers in the lobby which consisted of mostly women's words trailed, when he whooshed past them.