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What We Mean

مؤلف: Ravenna
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-07-06 03:46:34

The Lamborghini’s taillights disappeared down the street as Mila drove off. I stood outside my apartment building for a second, still buzzing from the book signing and that risky quickie with Jayson in the hallway. My body was sore in the best way, but my mind was racing.

I shook my head and headed inside.

The second the door closed behind me, I kicked my heels across the living room like they offended me. My dress hit the floor next. I walked straight to the bathroom completely naked, turned
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  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    My wolf

    The glass in my car window begins to vibrate from him. The energy rolling off the black wolf in waves is so dense, so heavy, that it's making the glass literally shake. I can feel it in my bones, my teeth, in the soft spaces between my ribs.I lock eyes with him through the rain-streaked window.Molten silver. That's all I can think as I stare right at his eyes at that glow like liquid metal poured straight from a forge. They're not normal. Not the regular pack wolf, domestic, or anything that exists in the Goddess's carefully ordered supernatural hierarchy. These eyes are older than the Moon Goddess. Older than pack law. Older than meAnd they're looking at me like I'm something rare that shouldn't exist. Something he's been waiting for.His massive paw lifts and presses against my car door. Not claws out. Not aggressive. Just a heavy, deliberate touch that sends vibrations through the frame. I watch his eyes flare with something that might be recognition, hunger, or something I did

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    Hot

    The slap echoed through Lucia's like a gunshot.Stella's head snapped sideways, her cheek blooming red, and for a second—just one perfect second—the entire restaurant went quiet. Even the waiter froze mid-step, a tray balanced on his palm like he was afraid to breathe.I was still holding my hand up, fingers spread, watching the shock ripple across her face."You slept with my husband?" My voice came out low. Dangerous. Like something caged finally breaking free. "You got pregnant? And you had the audacity—the absolute fucking audacity—to tell me to my face?"Stella's lip trembled. Her green eyes filled with tears so fast it was almost cartoonish."You should have lived with the guilt," I continued, stepping closer. "You should have carried that weight every single day for the rest of your life. You should have worn it like a fucking scar. Instead, you sit here and—what? Confess? Like that makes you brave?"She dropped to her knees.Actually fell to her knees right there in the middle

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    The Judge

    The judge adjusted his glasses and began reading the standard lines. I listened with half my brain while the other half was already thinking about the photos. We would need good ones for the announcement. Official. Polished. The kind that would make it convincing if anyone actually cared. "Do you, Matthew Kingland, take Selena Jesus to be your lawful wedded wife?" Matthew didn't hesitate. "I do." His voice was flat. Businesslike. Like he was confirming a transaction rather than making a vow. Which, honestly, was what this was. "And do you, Selena Jesus, take Matthew Kingland to be your lawful wedded husband?" I said "I do" with a steady voice and a small smirk playing on my lips. I could feel Matthew's eyes flick toward me, probably registering the smirk. Good. Let him know I wasn't taking it seriously enough to be nervous. The judge didn't seem to notice or care. He just continued with the practiced words, moving through the ceremony like we were the hundredth couple he'd joinw

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    call

    I already knew what I signed up for when I agreed to marry Matthew Kingland for a year. I wasn't expecting these contract marriage dramas where the contract wife falls for the billionaire guy at the end and live happily after.I'm just a baby girl who needs some money for one of these girls trip, that my all my savings from my deligent part time work won't solve. So I called my bestfriend Isabelle.Me: washing bad bitch?? Isabelle: yo, girl im scared now. you never called unless you are in trouble. so what's the danger?Me: Alright so I have this girl trip coming up and I need money. you know I have to look hot and real baddie. Guess what? Isabelle: Dont even try to ask me for some money bitch.Me: Nah, come off it girl, I mean slot of celebrities, and 1Instagram bsbes are going to be there and it's going to be a blast. so lkke I need to get my self the latest bag, shoes. and outfit. Isabelle: Right. so how do I come in because obviously you're not asking me for money or inviting m

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    Perfect girl

    He'd stopped having dreams about that night years ago. The mind had a way of moving past things if you were disciplined about it. If you didn't let yourself revisit the details, and kept yourself occupied with enough lesson planning and student conferences that there wasn't even a space in your head for the past.It had worked remarkably well, until the third period on a random Tuesday in October, when Fl walked in late, something she never did—and he felt the ground shift beneath his feet.She looked like Madison. thankfulky not enough that anyone else would notice. But there was something in the shape of her face. The way she carried her shoulders. The watchfulness in her eyes. That quality of observing rather than simply existing.Madison had watched him too. He remembered that. The way her eyes would follow him around the classroom. The way she would stay after class to ask questions that seemed carefully constructed to circle around something else entirely.He'd made a mistake wi

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    Limit

    "Hey, can you stop flexing your chest all around the house? It's fucking disgusting. I'm sure you think you look cool, but sorry—you just look ridiculous."The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Kelvin stood in the doorway of the living room, fresh from the gym, still in his tank top with sweat glistening down his arms. He just looked at me, that soft expression on his face making it worse.He's nothing but a sweet soul. That's the problem.Yeah, he's got muscles that make you lose your mind a little. Yeah, his face is unfairly handsome in a way that pisses me off. But it's the niceness that gets me. That gentle, apologetic thing he does with everything. People like that are fake as hell—hiding behind all that "good guy" bullshit."I'm sorry, Helen. I never meant to bother you."His voice was so low, so fucking *innocent*. I wanted to scream.I'd done everything to get him to snap at me. To yell. To show some edge. But Kelvin just apologizes and takes it like he deserves it

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    Lights, Lies, and Leopard

    The Grand Kingsland Hotel ballroom glittered like a den of wolves wearing diamonds. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over hundreds of the city’s elite — businessmen, politicians, socialites — all circling each other with fake smiles and real knives. Selena stayed close to Matthew’s side, pai

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    The Unwelcome Guest

    Selena had been in the mansion for two days when Victoria showed up. She was in the library, going through design books—mostly to keep her mind occupied—when Margaret came in with an apologetic expression. "Miss Victoria is here to see Mr. Kingland," Margaret said carefully. Selena looked up from

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    Signed Away

    Selena's mother was in the private room at Royal Crest Hospital, looking stronger than she had in weeks. The upgrade had already happened. The surgery was already scheduled for tomorrow. Selena sat beside her mother's bed, smoothing down the expensive blanket, not quite ready to explain where the

  • The Billionaire's Contractual Wife Is A Baddie    The Last Straw

    The smell of disinfectant and despair clung to everything in the hospital corridor. Selena Jesus sat on the cold plastic chair, elbows digging into her thighs, staring at the faded white floor tiles like they held answers. “The cancer has spread to her liver,” Dr. Patel said gently. “Without surg

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