Henry_Raggins

-WARNING - ADULT AND MATURED SCENES WERE DEPICTED IN THIS BOOK

In the game of love, these two players don't intend to win. 

*Dual POV:*

*Richard Wellington's Story*

Born with a weak heart, billionaire Richard Wellington has always shielded himself from love, fearing the risk of heartbreak. But when his parents insist he chooses a wife from a selection of 15 high-society candidates, Richard must confront his deepest fears.

*Sofia Blake (Reed)'s Story*

Fashion enthusiast Sofia Blake has been burned by love and believes it's a fool's game. Desperate to escape her cruel stepmother and evil stepsisters, Sofia accepts a job as Richard's personal assistant and judge for his wife search. But as she navigates the treacherous waters of high society, Sofia finds herself drawn to the one man she's supposed to resist.

As Richard and Sofia work together, their initial disdain for each other slowly gives way to a forbidden attraction. But with their past heartaches and fears threatening to tear them apart, can they find a way to heal and open their hearts to each other?

Will the Wellington Empire's legacy be secured, or will Richard and Sofia's love be the downfall of everything they hold dear?"

What happens when these two individuals who hate each other and are unreceptive to love, starts growing feelings for each other?

A Wife for the Billionaire

It felt stupid just standing there in front of the Blake Mansion.

I didn't dare look around at the street, anyone could recognize me even with my dark shades. I couldn't take that risk, so I lasered my gaze on the oak doors Lanke had knocked on, twenty seconds ago.

Twenty seconds that felt like twenty minutes. "What was taking them this long?" I thought, my legs bouncing slightly in uneasiness.

I hated being made to wait and worse, by the door under the influence of so many eyes. I could feel it, like needles pricking at my back, the eyes of passers-by.

"Knock again" I gritted to Lanke. As he turned to look at me, I added, "louder"

He obeyed. Jamming the brass knocker hard over and over again. He must be just as comfortable as I was standing outside. At least, it reflected in the way he knocked.

RICHARD