Jasmyne_

Beauty was the Ashford family law, and Freya Sinclair was beauty come to life—until an accident stole that title from her. Sold to the Ashfords for a bag of chips, Freya was forced into a marriage with their heir, Alexander Ashford, on her 18th birthday. Unloved and unwanted because of a scar, she endured years of rejection. Determined to reclaim her life, Freya takes a stand, only to be cast out by the family that never wanted her. 

Homeless and disowned, she crosses paths with Sylus Thorn, a world-renowned fashion designer and enigmatic billionaire. Just when Freya believes she can start over, Alexander comes back to claim the wife he once discarded.

“Do you have anything to say regarding your stepsisters’ affair with your husband?”

Just when I thought I had no choice but to respond, a strong hand gripped my arm, pulling me out of the crowd. Startled, I looked up to see a tall, muscular man guiding me away with ease, his presence shielding me from the cameras and the reporters’ relentless questions.

We reached a black car parked at the edge of the lot, and relief flooded through me.

“Mr. Thorn,” I whispered, recognizing his familiar face.

“Get in,” Sylus commanded, his voice calm but firm.

Without hesitation, I climbed into the car, my heart racing from more than just the escape.

Will Freya save her marriage to Alexander, or will she be swept off her feet by the mysterious Sylus Thorn?

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My Life in a Contract Marriage: Rescued by a Hot Billionaire

Satisfied with my reaction, Sylus climbed back onto the bed, settling close enough that his warmth surrounded me once again. His hand found mine, guiding it to him, his fingers warm as they wrapped around mine, showing me exactly how he wanted me to touch him.

The moment my fingers wrapped around him, he drew in a ragged breath, closing his eyes briefly. "Fuck, mama," he whispered, his voice like velvet, thick with desire. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

My pulse pounded as I followed his lead, my movements tentative at first, my fingers memorizing the feel of him. His breathing grew heavier, his eyelids fluttering shut, a groan slipping from his lips that made my own body ache with anticipation. "Just like that, mama," he murmured, his voice rough with pleasure. "Keep going. Fuck! You're driving me crazy."

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