Comedy

I took a fake husband gig to ruin a billionaire’s life. Now we own a villa, have matching suits, and apparently a chopper. Oops.
    I should’ve known things were off when the guy who hired me said >em>“carriage”>/em> instead of >em>Uber.>/em>
    Now I’m married to Levi Blake—a national treasure, pharmaceutical CEO, human refrigerator, and the man who just walked into parliament and abolished the monarchy >em>and>/em> the nobility in a single speech.
    My only job? Wreck his reputation, so his family disowns him.
    Instead, I live in a sterile designer house with floor-to-ceiling windows and a locked door I’m not allowed to open. My new husband doesn’t touch me unless I beg. Also, he talks like a ghost from Victorian England and may or may not be running a morally ambiguous science cult.
    Which is fine. Totally fine.
    This is what people mean by >em>found family,>/em> right?
    >strong>For readers who enjoy slow-burn psychological romance about trauma, power, moral dissonance, and the impossible act of loving someone who may never be capable of loving you back. >/strong>