Taming The Heartless Billionaire Playboy

LEVI I pushed forth the door to my mom's office as I sauntered in. I met her crouched at a corner, watching the fishes in the aquarium as they swam from end to end. It was her hobby to stare at fishes for a while, with a delightful smile on her face. She finds solace in it. Instinctively, I went to stand behind her, wrapping my arms around her. I felt her go still, her breath hitched. Swiftly, she spun around, a horrifying look etched on her face. "Don't sneak up on me like that.” She warned as she gave me a spank at my back. I laughed out loud, and she folded her fist in anger as she proceeded to land me more spanks. "I'm not one of your whores, I'm your mother so mind how you touch me with those filthy hands you use on them." She snapped. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry." I muttered an apology in defence as that seemed to calm her down. "Why are you here?" She asked, perceiving my real motive of coming here. "Let's take a seat." I suggested and she threw me a surprised stare before taking a seat. I sat opposite her, placing my hands on her desk. "How may help you?" She asked formally and I scrunched my face. She doesn't have to be so formal. "Our earlier discussion." I said and she squinted her brows, as if trying to recall. "Be specific, I have so much going on." She said and I scoffed inwardly. She was surely trying to make me start over again. How frustrating can she be? "My request, grant me full ownership of the family's business." I said and she stared at me shortly. Then, she burst into laughter. It got me thinking if I just cracked a joke or something. "Think it's that easy?" She asked sarcastically. "I'm qualified and ready to accept full inheritance mom." I muttered, trying to convince her but she proved like a tough nut to crack. "With your wayward lifestyle? No, you aren't ready and not qualified for that position yet." She said flatly. "I can handle this just exactly the way you have been handling it and it won't suffer any relapse." I muttered with all the zeal in me but she could only let out a short chuckle, obviously trying to wave the conversation aside. "If you really want full ownership, you have to accept my terms and conditions Levi Reynolds." She said, calling out my full name, swinging elegantly on her swivel chair. She skillfully flicked a pen in her hands. I sighed out , raking my hands through my hair. "Do you always have to be this way, mom?" I asked, my jaws gritted in frustration. "Yes sure...when it comes to business. I don't take that as a joke." She retorted and I just sighed. At least, let me hear what she had to say. If I knew my mom well, her terms will surely be difficult to adhere to. But I was going to give it a try.I thought inwardly. "Which are?" I asked, arching my brows slightly. "Can the almighty celebrity playboy be able to accept my terms?" She asked, her tone screaming sarcasm. I scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Sure, let’s have it.” “Get married,” she said, flat. I froze. The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible. “Pardon?” “I’m not repeating myself,” she snapped. “Marry, settle down, and start your own family. Quit your playboy lifestyle.” “But I’m not ready for that,” I protested. Her glare alone could slice through steel. “Then you aren’t ready. Tell me when you’ve changed your mind,” she said, shoving her earphones in and booting up her computer. A clear exit strategy, I realized, she was done with me. I walked out and got into my car, a surge of frustration and anger burning through me. The club, my playground, was calling. Maybe a private strip show… maybe something wilder. My mind wandered, painting images of temptation and indulgence. Then—an idea struck. An acting wife–someone to play the part, get me what I wanted, and walk away when the deal was done. A contract marriage–no attachments, no drama, no complications. Perfect. I smiled to myself, licking my lips at the thought. “Not ready to be stuck with one… when there are so many options.” I muttered. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice the delivery bike swerving across my lane until it was almost too late. I slammed the brakes, heart hammering, as the rider tumbled off, scattering packages across the street. The rider pulled off her helmet. It was a woman–fiery, fearless, and glaring at me like she could kill with a glance. "How reckless can you be?" She asked, her fist clenched in anger. "Reckless? You were the one who switched lanes." I retorted, not ready to lose to a lady, even though I knew I was clearly at fault. "I gave a light signal, dummy!!" She yelled."And yet you almost ran me over." She exclaimed feistily like she was about to fight. "Dummy?" I asked surprisingly, our eyes throwing daggers at each other. If looks could kill, we would both be six foot below. "Don't banter my words." She yelled. "Apologize now!!" She said as she began rolling up her sleeves crazily. What sort of lady was this? I questioned myself rhetorically. "And if I don't..." I asked with a smirk, pushing her inner devil to the limelight. "Dummy, I'm counting to three." She said calmly and I felt quite intrigued , but didn't show it. "1.." She counted, twisting her neck. "2, 3..." I completed it. She smirked as she swung a stick with precise force, cracking my windshield. I froze, mouth agape. The air between us was electric. Sparks flew—not just from the near collision, but from the intensity of her presence. I’d met a lot of women in my life, but her fire… it was different. I blinked, trying to regain composure as she glared at me, daring me to respond. “You play dangerous games,” she said, voice low and warning. “I like games,” I replied, smirking. The tension was delicious, irresistible. My mind raced with schemes, plans. And yet, for the first time, I felt a flicker of caution. This woman wasn’t like the others. She wouldn’t bend nor break. And that… intrigued me. I took a step closer, a predator and a playboy in equal measure. “I think… we’re going to get along just fine,” I said, voice smooth and confident. She raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that,” she shot back, fierce as ever. .