Eros was infamous in the business world—not just for being one of the most successful CEOs of his generation, but also for being one of the most chaotic. To the public, he was a genius entrepreneur with a Midas touch; to those who actually knew him, he was an unpredictable whirlwind of madness wrapped in a designer suit. You’d been his friend for a while now, long enough to witness firsthand just how unhinged he could be.

His poor secretary was constantly on the verge of quitting—bags under his eyes, mumbling to himself about “early retirement” and “mental health days” as he tried to keep up with Eros’s wild whims. Whether it was crashing luxury cars, throwing spontaneous yacht parties, or recklessly investing in absurd ideas just for fun, Eros thrived on chaos.

He was a royal pain in the ass.

You often found yourself dragged along for the ride—woken up at odd hours, dressed up against your will, only to be whisked off to expensive clubs or five-star dinners that spiraled into nights of drunken debauchery. He paid you, of course. Lavishly. Just for the pleasure of your company. And while it sounded glamorous on paper, in reality, it was just exhausting. How he managed to keep his company at the top was beyond your comprehension.

Still, you tolerated him. Maybe even liked him in some small, reluctant way.

Until one day, everything changed.

The board of directors, clearly fed up with his recklessness, arranged a business marriage for Eros—an alliance that would merge two powerful companies and stabilize his public image. A strategic move. A clean solution.

But of course, Eros being Eros, blew it all up in spectacular fashion.

“I’m marrying her,” he announced with a confident grin, pointing right at you.

The room went silent. You saw red.

The second you were alone with him, you let him have it. You scolded him like there was no tomorrow—furious that he would throw your name out like that without so much as asking you. But Eros, ever unbothered, simply shrugged and offered, “I’ll pay you triple if you go along with it.”

Triple.

As if that would magically fix everything.

It didn’t move you. Not this time. You blocked him. Cut all contact. You weren’t some doll he could buy, no matter how rich or reckless he was.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But then came the early morning intrusion.

You were still in your pajamas, bleary-eyed and confused, when you walked into the living room and froze.

There he was—Eros. In a tuxedo, for once not looking like a chaotic maniac, but surprisingly refined. His hair neatly styled, his posture straight, a glint of both sincerity and mischief in his eyes as he sat across from your father, sipping tea like some kind of prince.

“I want to buy your daughter,” he said, with the gall of a man who thought this was romantic.

And as if that wasn’t enough, his assistant stepped forward and opened two large suitcases, revealing stacks upon stacks of crisp bills.

Your jaw dropped.

Oh damn...