Love on Paper: A Billionaire love story

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ell, for a moment there, I did wish he did. But the circumstances that led us here to th

because I was surprised by the outburst, but

too heavy to hold, my heels, usually my armor against the corporate battlefield, now seemed too

again, his gaze not leaving mine. “

h the fantasy I had allowed myself to indulge in. Was thi

s homeless, Mr. Bennett; I’m very much not homele

d not to me, but I shook it off. Now I felt insulted; he’s my boss, yes, and I’m

able already. “This is the file for the list of possible companies we could support, si

ded, without sparing me a moment, he raised his hand to sig

richest under-30 CEO in New York City had just asked me—his secretary—to be his bride. Was he r

as rare as rain in a desert, his laughter nonexistent. He was a fortre

y computer screen blinked, the numbers reminding me that the world outside these walls wa

I should have been home by now, but this job was my lifeline—the golden ticket I clung to with both

ights seemed to mock me with their carefree dance. I remembered the day I had walked into this building,

the hard plastic chair, my number—a temporary identity—now up for scrutiny. The brunette at th

against the dark carpet, every piece meticulously chosen for its aesthetic rather than comfort. The interviewer’s chair was tu

eavy with anticipation. Then, with a fluid motion, the chair swiveled, and

room like a deity from ancient myths. His eyes, a deep blue reminiscent of the o

ice smooth and captivating, a siren’s cal

nding tone. I took my seat, the leather cool against my skin,

criteria, Miss Campbell,” he stated, his words clinical, devoid of empathy. Lifting his eyes to mine, he deliver

breath, my mind racing. This was it—the moment to prove my worth, to

anscends mere qualifications. The company’s success rests on the CEO’s shoulders, and by extension, on those who support