GLAMOUR* ‎*A Billionaire Romance by Nathaniel Martins* ‎_She was his greatest mistake. Now, she’s his greatest obsession._ ‎ ‎*Five years ago, I was the biggest regret of Damian Wolfe’s life.* ‎ ‎I was 21. Broke. Grateful. Stupid. ‎An intern at Wolfe Enterprises with thrifted blazers and dreams bigger than my bank account. ‎And he was everything I wasn’t — Damian Wolfe. 32. Ruthless. A billionaire who owned buildings, boards, and every room he walked into. ‎ ‎They told me not to fall for the boss. ‎I did anyway. ‎ ‎For three months, we were a secret. Stolen kisses in his penthouse 80 floors above Manhattan. His hands on my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear. Whispered promises at 2am that he’d “figure it out.” ‎ ‎Then the tabloids got a photo of us. ‎His board threatened to pull funding. ‎His fiancée — yes, fiancée — called me a gold digger on live TV. ‎ ‎And Damian? ‎He chose his empire. ‎He gave a press statement. “Miss Reyes and I had a brief, inappropriate relationship. It’s over.” ‎He cut me off. Blocked me. Watched me get fired, blacklisted, and dragged through the mud while he went back to his perfect, political engagement. ‎ ‎I left New York with 200 dollars and a broken heart. ‎I swore I would never say his name again. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎*Now, five years later, I’m back.* ‎But I’m not Adriana Reyes the intern anymore. ‎ ‎I’m Adriana Reyes. CEO of _Glamour_. ‎The luxury fashion house that started in a tiny studio in Brooklyn and is now threatening to dethrone Wolfe Enterprises in every major department store in the country. ‎ ‎I built this with my own two hands. With the money I made cleaning houses and the nights I spent sewing until my fingers bled. ‎No one helped me. Especially not him. ‎ ‎So when Wolfe Enterprises announced they were launching their own luxury line to compete with me, I smiled. ‎Let him try. ‎ ‎New York is glitter and knives. And I’m done being the girl who gets cut. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎The first time I see him again is at the Met Gala. ‎ ‎He’s in a black Tom Ford suit that probably costs more than my first car. His jaw is sharper. His eyes are colder. And the entire room parts for him like the sea. ‎ ‎Damian Wolfe. Still the king. ‎ ‎And then his eyes find me. ‎ ‎I’m in red. Off-shoulder. Hair up. Diamond earrings that I bought myself. ‎I’m not the girl who used to tremble when he looked at me. ‎ ‎For a second, something flickers in his face. Shock. Anger. Something else I refuse to name. ‎ ‎“Miss Reyes,” he says, voice low, like it’s five years ago and we’re alone. “You look... different.” ‎ ‎“CEO suits you, doesn’t it, Mr. Wolfe?” I reply. “Pity you didn’t believe I had it in me.” ‎ ‎Then I walk away. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎I thought that would be the end of it. ‎I was wrong. ‎ ‎Because Damian Wolfe does not like losing. ‎And right now, I’m the only thing he can’t have. ‎ ‎Suddenly Wolfe Enterprises is buying the factories I use. ‎They’re poaching my designers. ‎They’re offering my biggest retailer double to drop _Glamour_. ‎ ‎This isn’t business. This is war. ‎ ‎And he’s making it personal. ‎ ‎He shows up at my office. Uninvited. ‎“Stop this,” he says. “We’re tearing each other apart.” ‎ ‎“You started it the day you let them call me a mistake,” I snap. ‎ ‎He steps closer. The way he used to. Like the world doesn’t exist. ‎“You were never a mistake, Adriana.” ‎ ‎“Liar.” ‎ ‎“Then why can’t I stop thinking about you?” ‎ ‎The city lights behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The same view from his penthouse. The same view from the night he told me he loved me and then destroyed me. ‎ ‎I should hate him. ‎God help me, I still want him. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎The problem with Damian Wolfe is that he’s used to getting what he wants. ‎And now, what he wants is me. ‎ ‎He starts appearing everywhere. Front row at my shows. Buying out entire floors of _Glamour_ at launch. Sending me anonymous notes that just say: _Come home._ ‎ ‎Home. Like I ever had one with him. ‎ ‎My best friend Mia thinks I’m insane for even talking to him. ‎“My company is going to survive without selling my soul to him,” I tell her. ‎ ‎But Damian isn’t asking anymore. He’s demanding. ‎ ‎One night he corners me in the elevator of my own building. No cameras. No staff. Just us. ‎ ‎“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “Why now?” ‎ ‎“Because I was wrong,” he says. Raw. Honest. The Damian I met at 2am, not the one from the boardroom. “Because I spent five years building an empire and it’s empty. Because the only time I felt anything real was with you. And I threw it away.” ‎ ‎“And what? You think saying sorry fixes it?” ‎ ‎“No,” he says. And then he kisses me. ‎ ‎It’s angry. Desperate. Like he’s been holding his breath for five years. ‎And I kiss him back, because I’m human, and I’m hurt, and I never stopped loving him.*Read now to find out if love can survive the spotlight.* ‎ ‎