Sexual compatibility mattered when choosing my husband. Love mattered more, so I chose Dean Harper.
For four unforgettable hot years, he was my best friend, my true love, and my husband. Then, one day, I handed him divorce papers. When he asked me why, I buried the truth and smiled.
"Because you're poor. I can't love a poor man forever."
He didn't argue nor did he beg me and simply accepted my decision. I wanted him to make things right, but he didn't even try.
Our divorce agreement had one final condition, one last night to have sex before we walked away from each other. The next morning, he disappeared, leaving behind a bank card... and enough money for me to "take care of the burden." He knew I was pregnant and put the decision on me.
Four years later, Dean returned as a billionaire tycoon, and my new boss.
He saw our son and kept digging to find out if that was his son, but I kept manipulating everything and lied to him for one solid reason.
He was here for revenge but also confused me. He gave me priceless jewelry, shielded me from every danger, insisted on making me his girlfriend again, and shamelessly demanded that we should make babies. The strong burning pull between us was so strong I couldn't resist either time he touched me.
If he hates me so much as he pretends, why does he still kiss me like I was his precious piece.
