THE BILLIONAIRE'S PRETEND GIRLFRIEND

The moment Chloe Valentina De Luca stepped off the plane, dressed in quiet authority — a tailored beige trench coat draped effortlessly over a white silk blouse and fitted black trousers. A thin gold chain rested on her collarbone, glinting under the airport lights. Her hair was swept into a low, elegant bun, and her heels clicked with precision — sharp, confident, deliberate. Even her perfume, soft and powdery with hints of jasmine and musk, seemed to command attention without asking for it. The cool London air brushed against her face, laced with the faint scent of rain and exhaust. The city hadn’t changed much — same gray skies, same restless hum — but she had.. The city still busy pretending not to care who came or left. London was everything Chloe remembered, and yet somehow, none of it felt the same.As she walked through the arrivals hall, suitcase rolling behind her, her reflection caught in the glass walls. Eight years ago, she’d left this city broken, humiliated, and invisible. Now, she was back — confident, poised, and in control, that same city was about to watch her walk back in with quiet confidence and a name that finally meant something — De Luca.. Now she was back—not as the timid girl everyone once pitied, but as the woman who built an empire from ashes. The CEO of Lioré Consulting, a name that made executives straighten in their chairs and reporters chase for interviews.Her return wasn’t for nostalgia. She was here for business.A two-week project—one of London’s biggest firms, Vantage Global, was falling apart, and she’d been personally requested to assess it. Her specialty was saving dying companies. How ironic that she was back to breathe life into something when all she once wanted was to escape this city’s suffocating air.Dragging her sleek suitcase through the terminal, she adjusted her coat and checked her phone. A message blinked on the screen from her assistant:“Car’s waiting. Reminder: Vantage Corporation meeting — Tomorrow, 10 AM.”“Of course,” she murmured, slipping the phone into her bag. “Straight to work.”The automatic doors of Heathrow slid open, and the cool air brushed against her face like a hesitant greeting. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as she walked, every movement composed and unhurried. She didn’t rush—Chloe Valentina De Luca never rushed. The world, she had learned, always caught up eventually.Her heels clicked with precision as she exited the airport. A black car waited — sleek, understated, efficient. She slid into the back seat, giving the driver the address without looking up from her phone.“The Sterling Royale hotel,” she said.Her voice was calm—low and smooth, like she’d practiced every word. Years of boardrooms and negotiations had sharpened her tone into something that demanded respect without needing to ask for it.The driver’s eyes flickered briefly in the mirror — recognition, perhaps admiration — but she didn’t notice. Her attention drifted to the city lights as they blurred past the window. London still moved fast, still gleamed like polished steel, but it no longer intimidated her. Not after everything she had built.Vantage — one of London’s top real estate and finance firms. The company she was here to evaluate and possibly merge with her own. This trip wasn’t about nostalgia; it was business, strategy, and power.The city moved past in a blur of lights and motion. Glass towers, wet pavements, red buses, umbrellas everywhere. Somewhere between the drizzle and the rhythm of the tires, memories tried to surface—the echo of her father’s voice, her stepsister’s cruel laughter, the silence that followed when she left at sixteen. She shut her eyes, pressing back the ache.Not today, London. Not yet.When the car stopped, she stepped out, heels clicking sharply against the marble driveway. As she stood outside Sterling Royale Hotel, her heels clicking softly against the polished pavement as she gazed up at the towering glass building. The sleek, modern facade gleamed under the fading light of dusk, and the golden glow spilling from the lobby windows gave the hotel an air of understanding luxury.Taking a deep breath, she adjusted the strap of her leather handbag and stepped inside.The lobby was all marble and crystal, a perfect blend of elegance and opulence. Plush velvet sofas lined the walls, and a grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling, its faceted crystals catching the light and scattering it in soft, shimmering patterns across the floor.Chloe walked up to the reception desk, her steps confident and unhurried. “Reservation for Miss Chloe De Luca.”The receptionist smiled. “Welcome to The Sterling Royale, ma’am. Your suite is ready.”After checking in, she took the elevator up to her suite, her mind already drifting to the business meetings she had already scheduled for the week. But as the elevator doors slid shut, she was jolted from her thoughts by the sound of an irritated voice. “Mamma, I don’t need a wife. I don’t care if I’m turning 30 next month!” Chloe blinked, her eyes darting to the man standing at the other end of the elevator. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. He wore a charcoal suit that fit him perfectly, the sharp lines of the jacket emphasizing his lean, athletic build, and his tie hung loosely around his neck, as though he’d yanked it off mid-conversation. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but his voice-low, smooth, and edged with irritation-was impossible to ignore. As the man on the phone – Damien Enzo Sterling – tries to fend off his persistent mother.“If you don’t settle down soon you will be the only one in the family unmarried!”Chloe bit back a smile, her curiosity piqued. She leaned causally against the wall, pretending to be absorbed in her phone, but she was definitely eavesdropping now.“Yes, Mamma, I understand,” he said in that deep, slightly rough voice that demanded attention even when he wasn’t trying. “But I’m not ready to settle down just because you think thirty is the deadline for marriage.”The corners of Chloe’s lips lifted slightly. She recognized the tone — a son caught in the loving trap of family expectations.He sighed, ranking a hand through his hair. “And Mamma, Adrian isn’t married either, so technically, I’m not the only one.”There was a pause, followed by a sharp disbelieving laugh from the other end of the line.“Adrian has a girlfriend!” His mother snapped.He clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around his phone. “Fine. I’ll think about it,” he muttered, his tone clipped. Chloe’s lips twitched, and before she could stop herself, a quiet laugh slipped out.Her quiet chuckle broke through the tense silence.He turned his head sharply. Their eyes met. Hazel against ocean blue. For a moment, the air thickened between them — two strangers suspended in the hum of the elevator. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and Chloe was struck by how ridiculously attractive he was-strong jawline, high cheekbones, blue eyes like the color of the ocean, and a mouth that looked like it rarely smiled.“Something funny?” he asked, one brow lifting, his voice smooth but clipped.Chloe tilted her head, unbothered. “Just… the tone. You sound like every other man being bullied into marriage by his family. It’s oddly relatable.”That earned her a brief, unwilling smirk. The kind that came and went before one could even register it. “And you find that amusing?”“I find it predictable,” she said simply. “But charming, in a way.”The elevator chimed again. Her floor.Chloe stepped out, turning just enough to catch his eye again. “Good luck surviving them, stranger. You’ll need it.”And with that, she stepped off the elevator as it reached her floor, leaving him staring after her, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and intrigue.