Married To The Billionaire: Spoiling My Vengeful Wife

he private dining room at Le Ciel felt

h, the air tasting of expensive

tapestry of the New York skyline. He was tall, his shoulders broad beneath a perfectly ta

cked shut, and the breath

arp jawline, dark hair, and eyes the color of a stormy sea. There was an air of predator

leering look she was used to from men in this world, nor was

aking the initiative to break the silence.Her tone was ca

ked unflinchingly on his stormy eyes. "Thank you fo

t the corner of his lips. His voice rumbled out in a low, velvety baritone that se

eyes unreadable. The usual script for these encounters involved poli

no time f

im, meeting his piercing

ap to hide their shaking. "I know this is our first m

slightly. A ghost of a smile pla

, however small,

e year. In return for the use of your name, I will act as a dutiful wife in any public or private capacity you

le unnervingly loud. He moved from the window to the table, pulling out the chair opposite her and si

he cracks in her composure. She felt

" he stated. It

plet

. The pause was agonizing. She had laid her last, desperate card on the table,

rantic bird trapped in a cage. But on th

ly asked, his voic

" she said, offering a half-truth. "The Sinclair name car

. Tap. Tap. It was a measured, thoughtful sound that grated on her

verything on this

he single word cuttin

linked.

confirmed, his expression unr

herself.

id, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "It has

e clause in his favor. This was... easier. Too

a wave of dizzying relief washing ove

pushed his chair back and stood up, adjusting t

t's go,"

outstretched hand, co

le flashed in his eyes again. "If we hur