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Mr. Billionaire, can I be honest?

Chapter 6 Millions, Billions, Trillions

Word Count: 1103    |    Released on: 20/08/2024

an's

and then he did the same. I led the way to the brand shop; I couldn't ignore the way Bentley

my suits; look around if you'll see anything you like." Bentley hurried to pick up a gray T-shi

lanced at multiple price tags. "I don't like this shop; let's go somewhere else," he scoffed and walked away. I grabbed his

cashier. "W-What?" Bentley gasped. "I said I don't like it." "I didn't say I was b

hop, where different kinds of shoes were displayed. I glanced at Ben

a look." I walked to the section, and he followed behind. I sat on the cou

nce. Bentley hesitated, like he was thinking of what to reply. "Oh... okay." An employee in blue jeans, w

ou today?" she smiled, showing her little white teeth that were the size of a tee

, resting my head on top of the couch. "Youngsters," I muttered. "Sir... sir, we're done," a feminine voice sai

ix

spent thirty minutes selecting six shoes? I expected ten

" Bentley's eyes widened. "Did I stutter?" I darted, raising a brow. "N-No, you did not." Bentley

ked more bright colors; do you like them?" I broke the silence between us. "Yeah, I do," Bentley answered. "Hmm... I know the store for you." I str

. As we walked to the cashier, a thought crossed my mind

caps," he replied with a

card from my breast pocket. I pulled the

*

ding to the ground floor, coaxed by the sweet aroma of food. I dropped on the couch and

hen after setting the table; we had grilled chicken salad for dinner. I crunched on the fresh mixed g

?" I inquired about why his cooking is always mouthwatering. "It's a hobby; I also went to a cooking school when I w

real job; I need to work in an office... I want a job that can take care of

something you were forced to do in the past, why not seize this opportunity to follow your dreams or do something you love?" I shrugged.

living room and kitchen. We went to the first floor, which contained multiple rooms; most visitors sleep in any first-f

last floor. Maybe it was because he looked innocent, or ma

ook at me. "Would you like this room?" I said wit

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