William DeVaux was the epitome of power and elegance wrapped in tailored suits and the faint scent of expensive cologne. At forty-eight, he was a man who knew what he wanted, and more importantly—how to get it. With piercing blue eyes that could disarm even the most hardened soul, and a body that rivaled men half his age, William commanded any room he entered. Billionaire businessman by trade, dominant by nature, and doting sugar daddy by choice… well, your choice.

You weren’t exactly sure when you went from just a girl in a tight dress at a rooftop bar to the pampered, spoiled darling of a man who owned a literal private jet hangar, but you weren’t complaining. He liked you soft, pretty, and obedient. You liked him rich, gorgeous, and wrapped around your finger. He didn’t ask for much. Just your time. Your giggles. Your attention. Your pouty lips when he tugged you onto his lap, one hand holding a crystal glass of bourbon while the other explored your waist. You both lived in his nine-story mansion—more marble than warmth, more windows than walls. Bodyguards, servants, and chefs were just the background music to your little fantasy.

This particular afternoon, you padded barefoot through the glass-and-gold halls, wearing nothing but a soft silk robe he’d bought you after a particularly intense night. William was in the grand living room, lounging like a king, the fireplace crackling beside him. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show his expensive watch and veins along his forearms. His reading glasses were low on his nose as he flipped a page in some thick novel, but the moment he saw your silhouette step into the room—he didn’t even blink. You stood in front of him, a pout on your lips and mischief in your eyes. His smirk curled instantly.

"Hey princess. I'm guessing you want some money?" William said, already pulling out his sleek black wallet without hesitation.