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Tee Marian - My Dutch Billionaire My Dutch Billionaire

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии
оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Professor2018-11-27
Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Vera.Li2016-02-21
Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг
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ст.ст.2018-05-15
 И что это было?
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Наталья222018-11-27
Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни
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My Dutch Billionaire - Tee Marian - Страница 19


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Someone shoved her from behind, and she fell.

For the last time.

This time, her leg had completely given out, the strength of her pain telling her she could permanently cripple herself if she tried moving too fast again.

This time, she sobbed, quietly, desolately, knowing that she had gambled and…lost.

He had hurt her, and she had hurt him back.

It should not have been that way, but the billionaire had allowed it to happen.

It should have been enough, but she had wanted more.

And now he was lost to her—

“Sere?”

Her head shot up.

It was Willem.

He was crouched down in front of her, his face ashen as he stared at her. His bodyguards, including her favorites Mr. Smit and Mr. Molen, circled them to ensure their privacy.

“W-Willem?” For one second, she wondered deliriously if she was still dreaming. She reached for his face, and when he caught her hand to bring it to his lips, she began to sob. “Willem.” She sobbed his name over and over, and even when he pulled her into his arms, she could not stop.

“I’m sorry, Willem. I’m sorry. I was so scared of being hurt again.” She was babbling, unable to stem the panic inside her, which told her he would disappear if she didn’t explain. “I wanted revenge even when I shouldn’t. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. I wanted you—”

The billionaire kissed her.

“It’s okay, engel,” he whispered against her lips.

When he pulled away, his eyes were suspiciously bright.

Her heart shattered one last time, and her voice cracked as she whispered, “I love you, Willem.”

He answered by offering her a ring, and at her nod, he slipped it on her finger. He took out the shoes, and she nodded even as she cried. He took off her shoes and replaced it with his. And before she knew what he was doing, he had already bent down to place a kiss on each of her feet.

I love you, my beautiful ice princess.

My Sere.

My engel.

Epilogue

Three months later

Everyone in the castle wanted to kill Shane Raleigh – or at least everyone except the two who should have hated her the most.

It was the last day of the TV documentary that covered Willem de Konigh’s engagement to Serenity Raleigh, the nineteen-year-old American girl who was formerly known as Willem Jr. but was now being referred to by the media and the masses as Mrs. Willem, even when the actual date of the wedding was set after she graduated from college.

To say that people were shocked when Serenity’s older sister had been invited to be a part of the documentary was an understatement, but since it had been Willem’s decision, no one who had any say in the matter wasted their time arguing.

Anyone acquainted with the Dutch billionaire knew that the only person who had power over him was his beloved fiancee.

And so the crew did their best to get along with the Dutch model. They pretended to listen to her stories, pretended to believe everything she said even when her words bordered on the ridiculous. It was as if Shane had only accepted the invitation to prove that she was not the loser, and financially, she did have something to brag about. As soon as the engagement between Willem and Serenity had been announced, Shane had held her own press conference to proudly show off her twenty-carat diamond engagement ring to an Arab sheikh. The fact that her own billionaire fiance happened to be twice Willem’s age, Shane chose to gloss over in every interview.

The night before the documentary started filming, Willem had invited the entire cast and crew for a private dinner at the castle. He presided at the head of the table, Serenity in his arms, a lovely vision in pink.

Shane had been the last to arrive, making a grand entrance in a transparent gown. The Queen had been so scandalized she had ordered Shane to have her dinner in her bedroom.

Shane’s attitude on the first day of filming had also set a precedent. If she heard someone had gone to climb the Mt. Everest, Shane would say she had done it twice. If she heard someone had come to the set with a new Louis Vuitton bag, she would make sure to mention that she had given hers to her housekeeper because it was no longer interesting. If she heard someone enjoyed their recent vacation at the Bahamas, she would yawn and say that place was oh-so-old since she had been there countless times.

On and on it went that the director finally had to pay Willem a visit in his office. “Sorry, Mr. de Konigh, but I have to be the bearer of bad news.”

Willem put his pen down. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

“It is,” the director said miserably. “It’s the crew. They’re threatening to boycott tonight’s celebratory dinner.”

“I see. That is a problem. Do you happen to know why?”

“Well…” He grimaced. “It’s your future sister-in-law, sir.”

“Ah. They do not wish her to attend?”

He nodded glumly.

The Dutch billionaire simply nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Okay, boss.” As the director turned away to leave, he wondered uneasily if he had just imagined the cruel gleam in the billionaire’s eyes.

Surely—

Nah.

This was Willem de Konigh, the most gentlemanly of all billionaires. He and his fiancee were so nice they had even invited Shane Raleigh to be a part of the documentary even when she was such a bitch to Mrs. Willem.

He shook his head. The Dutch billionaire would probably just give the model the equivalent of a light slap on the wrist and that was it.

****

To promote the documentary, whose proceeds would be donated to the kingdom’s charitable foundation, the producers had decided to shoot a one-hour special that revolved completely around the rumored love triangle between the Dutch billionaire and the two Raleigh sisters.

Serenity had expected Willem to refuse, but her fiance had surprised her instead by agreeing. And so here she was, Serenity thought glumly, being forced to spend more time than necessary with Shane. The two of them were in the kitchen, Serenity busy making sushi rolls while across her, Shane sat cross-legged on a stool as she gushed about the latest adventures she’d had with her fiance.

“Have you enjoyed a camel ride in the desert with your fiance yet?”

“Umm, no—”

“Oh, poor you,” Shane said, her tone oozing with sympathy.

Behind her, the cameramen rolled their eyes and Serenity, having caught sight of them, swallowed back a laugh. “It is, umm, unfortunate.” But if the news articles were to be believed, the camel ride Shane was talking about had been a rather embarrassing moment for her half-sister. Her sixty-year-old fiance, having enjoyed a sumptuous lunch before it, had farted the entire time, in the presence of Shane and several other model friends she had invited to the trip.

Time seemed to pass slowly as Shane continued to regale Serenity and the crew about her latest exploits, most of which they had already heard before. When she was done with her sushi rolls, Serenity jumped off the stool and Eslee, a dog she and Willem were babysitting for Damen and Mairi Leventis while they toured the kingdom’s capital, immediately rushed to her.

Smiling, she bent down to scratch the dog’s head affectionately.

Shane’s lip curled. “That’s such a hideously—”

“Shane!” She covered the dog’s ears protectively. “That’s not nice.”

“But it’s true, and you know it.” As Shane spoke, Willem appeared at the doorway, and the billionaire’s lips curved at the way his fiancee’s blue eyes lit up at the sight of him. I love you, those beautiful eyes said even as she spoke in a perfectly polite tone. “Good afternoon, Mr. Konigh.”