A 9k word prequel to the spicy main billionaire romance Until That Fateful Night (available for preorder now!).

Please note: This prequel has lots of yearning on the part of the MMC, but there is no one-night-stand. Spice levels shoot through the roof in the sequel!

He's a billionaire getting bored and sick of the riff-raff coming to his clubs.

She's a girl who just needs to get away from it all, for a night.

A he-falls-first, touch-her-and-die billionaire romance.

Prequel told from his point of view; main novel, dual perspective.

EXCERPT

"What's wrong, angel?" Maybe my rant had been too much for her.

She bit her lip. A low growl hummed at the base of my throat. Don't do that, sweetheart. Not if you don't want me to kiss the daylights out of you because I can't help myself.

"You're just saying that 'cause you want to sleep with me." She said the words so quickly and quietly, I almost missed them. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks the most appealing shade of pink, but she still managed to find the guts to meet my gaze and dare me to deny it. "Aren't you just like any other guy? Sweet talking to get in my pants?"

She wasn't exactly wrong. Up until tonight, I would only compliment a girl to make her swoon and jump into bed with me. Tonight, I was complimenting this girl because I wanted to make her feel better. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one I would need to analyse later.

"Two problems with your hypothesis," I told her, chuckling as she rolled her eyes, "One: you're assuming I regularly sweet talk girls?I don't. The only language I speak is dirty talk." She blushed at this, which only made me smirk.



"Two: I'm not trying to get in your pants." A funny blend of relief and offence crossed her face like a cloud's shadow over open fields. "Sorry, darling, but you still have vomit in your hair."

Originally published on July 20, 2024. This is the updated version 2.