He was my worst enemy. Now I have to wear his ring and pretend I love him.
Sloane Reeves has hated Damian Wolfe since he destroyed her mentor's hotel chain.
He's arrogant. Ruthless. A billionaire who thinks he can buy anything.
Including me.
When my mother's inn is about to be foreclosed, he offers me a deal I can't refuse: Be his fake fiancee for 90 days. Live in his penthouse. Smile for the cameras.
In return, he gives me $300,000.
The rules are simple: No feelings. No touching. No falling for my enemy.
But then there's only one bed. One penthouse. One private jet where he holds me during turbulence and whispers, "You're mine in public. No one else touches you."
He's possessive. Obsessively jealous. The kind of man who says "touch her and die" and means it.
And when a rival touches my waist at a gala, Damian loses control. He pulls me onto his lap and kisses me like I'm his to claim.
It was supposed to be fake. So why does it feel so real?
Now I've discovered he secretly bought my mother's debt. He didn't just want a fake fiancee.
He wanted to own me.
I should run. I should hate him. But the worst part?
I'm falling for my enemy.
