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Sucked by the hot billionaire

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Her eyes sparked with ire. "You deceived me," she accused.

"You're not one for playing it safe, Mr. Xandeir Knight, or should I say, sir," she retorted sharply.

"I never tread the safe path, my love. Everything is fair in love and war. And, darling, you were destined to be mine from the very beginning," he replied, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"Is that so? Well, I excel at playing it safe. I'll never be yours, no matter the stakes," she declared, a hint of defiance in her voice.

"Wanna make it interesting?" he challenged, a subtle gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

"Oh, test me. The rewards will be as they always are... my anything and everything," she countered, her gaze unwavering.

"And likewise on my end," his conscience whispered, acknowledging that she already possessed everything he had to offer.

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** I am Sam
She pressed her lips against the young man by the roadside, the one she had just rescued from the aftermath of a harrowing car accident. I emerged from my opulent car, drawn toward this celestial being. My, the word just completes it. Period. I never fathomed such a moment would transpire. Cliché! The road stretched infinitely. My gaze fixated on the woman with brown eyes, the one I trailed. My breath hitched at the sound of her utterance, “All billionaires are deficient in matters of the heart.” Not all. Mine was purloined. Creep, I know. Let’s forgo the customary introductions for now. Yet, allow me to subtly announce my presence. “Guess what ...everyone deserves a second chance.” And I bestowed upon her my rarely witnessed, resplendent smile. Her eyebrows knitted, and I introduced myself before she could veer off, perhaps deeming me an unsettling presence. “I am ... Sam. Sam Williams.” Only the divine knows the depth of my affection for my name. But this charade must be upheld; the one and only Xandeir Knight is masquerading, and this performance will prove invaluable when she becomes mine. “Divya,” she replied. "A second chance is reserved for the deserving soul," she affirmed while shaking my hand. I yearned to inquire if she might join me for coffee, then dinner. Subsequently, indulging in desserts. Although she could have me as dessert, I envisioned escorting her to my finest hotel, where the most delectable ice creams and confections awaited. Then, perhaps, we would immerse ourselves in a bath before surrendering to the allure of an unclothed embrace. However, I mused that might be too precipitous for her. I reciprocated with a smile, contemplating how to k****e a conversation with her. This was never a conundrum for me... until now. Women usually gravitate toward me like I'm a lavish feast. I recollect an incident at a hotel, where a lady offered monetary compensation for a night together. A nightmare unfolded, and I had to summon guards when she tore my shirt. And behold the twist of fate; here she scarcely cast me a fleeting glance. Am I that repugnant? Then why does the US welfare deem me the youngest and most handsome billionaire in New York? Perhaps they fear me? Furthermore, she harbors a disdain for billionaires, though in part, she is correct. We seldom heed the call of our hearts. We rarely possess the time for such matters, yet this situation is an anomaly. My heart isn't just pulsating; it is audacious enough to venture beyond my chest for a breath of its own. “Hey, Sam. Now I am truly fatigued and lack the strength to rescue you as I did the child. So, you should come to the safe side of the road,” she uttered with a tender smile. I descended to Earth as her soothing words caressed my ears. It was then that I noticed the abrasions on her hand. I cursed my mind for abandoning me at such a pivotal moment. Taking her hand in mine, I inspected the bruises. I was vexed with her now. Why did she have to jeopardize herself? Did she comprehend the extent of the anguish she caused? It is not just a liking; I am enamored with her. Witnessing her hurt brings me an indescribable ache, especially when I am in such close proximity. I blamed myself for this predicament as I tended to her hand with my handkerchief. Observing my maternal-like concern, she sighed. “It’s merely a scratch,” she reassured, locking eyes with me. A scratch? Just a scratch? What does she desire? More? If you were mine, my dear, I would have caressed you right here on the street, within the confines of my car. “It’s not merely a scratch,” I insisted, placing emphasis on the word 'just.' It took considerable time and strength to truncate the words. I am tallying the matters that demand attention, my angel. Once you are mine, I shall elucidate in our shared language. “I am sorry,” she confessed, her expression laden with concern. For what is she apologizing? I cannot recall vocalizing my sentiments aloud. Did I? Well, none of it matters; it redounds to my advantage. Yeah, the quintessential businessman. “Then it costs me a coffee,” I decreed with authority in my voice. She concurred, gracing me with a smile. Should I kiss her? Would that constitute a transgression? We shared an enchanting time together, and I found myself in a realm of euphoria. Simultaneously, I realized I did not wish to share this enchanting person. She is mine and mine alone. Yet, I respect her autonomy; she is not a woman to flutter from one man to another. In truth, I am a creature of time, a quality that blindsided me when she informed me an hour had elapsed in the coffee shop. She rose and attempted to settle the bill, only to be rebuffed. I stood behind, smirking. She questioned the counter attendant, and that person nodded in my direction. “Are you behind this?” my angel inquired. “Nope. Actually, yes. It’s just that I want this on me,” I expounded, while she tsked. Ouch! Yet, I would opt for avocado juice at dawn rather than reimburse her. She can bid farewell to those expenses. “But this is not fair. It was on me,” she murmured, seeking discretion. Little does my beloved know that people watch television, and they recognize me. While placing our order, I made an additional payment to ensure our undisturbed repose. “I never play fair, my love,” I murmured in the final breath. “What?” she queried, noting my lips in motion. “Nothing,” I smiled. “So I owe you another cup,” she declared.

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