Billionaire's Seduction

back, Nick had a crush on me in high school, but I chose Eric. So he walked away. Nick moved to Vegas from Montana during our high school years. He and Eric became fa

o concerts. So many fond memories, the kind you have when you're young and think your whole life is ahead of you. Eric and I got engaged after college graduation. We were so excited, planning our life together. Losing him suddenly, months before our wedding, was too much for my heart to bear. I felt lost, adrift in a sea of ​​grief, until my older brother, Simon, stepped in. I certainly have friends who helped or tried to help,

dvancing the foundation's cancer research, stocking food banks, and so on. It fulfilled my life, but it just wasn't enough when I lost Eric. I fell into a deep depression, some days not wanting to get out of bed. Simon appointed a temporary director for the foundation, Cecily Anderson. With his gentle guidance and unwavering support, he suggested I take some time for myself in a special place he knew, nestled in the Swiss Alps. For five months, I allowed myself to grieve, feel, and slowly rebuild m

finally shake off the remnants of my dark depression that has been my companion for far too long. I spent the morning wandering the halls of the Louvre, completely enchanted by the masterpieces that surrounded me. Every brushstroke, every sculpture and manuscript spoke to my soul, uplifting my spirit in a way I hadn't felt in years. I love French painters and I lingered over these paintings, absorbing them into my soul. Sure, I had to see the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo, like everyone else. But I've always been a fan of Egyptian art, and the Louvre has one of the largest collections outside of

at home, they would usually have something to say like, "Watch out, or you might summon the spirit of every cat in the neighborhood," so Eric would just laugh and be used to their banter. As we sat in the shade of the picnic area, enjoying our drinks and the vast expanse of nature, he strummed his guitar and sang a new song, just for me. One he had composed. I remember the silence around us, four little beings in the middle of a vast natural space, and the clear sounds of the guitar strings and his v

e good times we shared. The sunny terrace of Le Petit Café buzzed with the soft murmur of conversation and the clink of coffee cups. I leaned back in my wrought-iron chair, savoring the warmth on my face and the rich aroma of freshly g