Chapter 1

$450 million dollars might just be suffered forfeiture of in one single dead of the night. Aged, frail, but a greatly rich man—Ian Bitch grew to be a prevailing multi-millionaire all in credit to Preston Dick. A youthful, irresistible and atrocious man: monstrous at the same time and causing so plenty a people to be transformed into dominant millionaires on one requirement that they do anything to cheer him back; Preston wants old Ian's only daughter, Daisy, to become his bitch and wife for not more than thirty-one days; in the course of which she must without lack of success become pregnant with him. Furthermore, he wants the child to be a lovely son. And if Daisy fails flatly in doing all of this for him, their bargain is closed without any sort of negotiations. Firstly, Ian will lose out all his big money and possessions; and then secondly, he will end up broke and dirt-poor like he helplessly was in the first place.

I have at no time been a bitch bastard before as I am right now. Preston Dick wishes me to be his marital woman and loose woman at the same time. Can you even picture this? If I should save the life of my father's hard cash and his chattels furthermore, I have to work out all this that he desires me to execute for him. It provokes and maddens me one way or the other, but legitimately speaking, I have no any other option or alternative here. I am the bitch and the wife all merged into one. I consistently will be.

This is the house that Preston and I will be renting in. I stop and park my car carefully in the driveway, then inch my way out to inspect and check it out. It looks pretty modern and up-to-the-minute to some measure of extent. The windows, the burnished floor, the sleek and unbroken-flowing tiles, the made-of-wood doors and ceiling plank or ceiling board—they are all very newly and recently. Allie Bennett is the woman having to her name the gigantic, bulky, and mammoth house here which she is lending out on a lease. It has about eighteen rooms inside it, all finalized and sewn and tied up perfectedly. I can't help myself but make glad eyes and gawp at them unbrokenly. Everything is faultless and unblemished here.

I know that leasing this house will be a tiny puny thing to Preston. I hear gossip and talk that he might be a billionaire, a multi-billionaire God willing, or by any chance not so this filthy rich. One thing is straightforward even. Preston Dick is rich and made of bona fide, durable money. As for this latest residence of ours, we will be spending up to $10,000 every nigh month. Allie, our lesser, even adds that she might raise the rentals up any moment without any prompt warning, and Preston does not give a damn about it at all.

"What do you think about your new home, Mrs. Dick?" She queries me doubtfully and dubiously. It is almost like she doesn't place much confidence in me adoring and caring to stay in a place as logically attractive and pleasurable as this.

I express to her flatly, "I imagine that it is divine and world-class. I will doubtlessly enjoy my stay in this place, Miss Bennett."

She knits her brows in a kindly and charitable course of action. "If you chime so, Mrs. Dick!"

The hours of darkness have at long last fallen. I am settled down here in the void and unfurnished living room on a lone historical-seeming chair, rocking and moving gently to and fro, scanning and eyeing up all about me silently and noiselessly. My cell phone buzzes all of a sudden and abruptly, but I am speedy and headlong to respond and pick up the unforeseen call. It is my dad, Ian Bitch. I know that he has a creepy and spooky name, but that is just our family weirdo and problem altogether.

"Mr. Bitch. You rang me up at final last. You have no mini idea how long I have been waiting for your call."

Ian sounds penitent and remorseful. "I am so sorry, sweetheart. I was occupied with some stuff here at work. I am through and finished with all of it anyway. And how are you doing there at your new home, my treasured one?"

"I am great, dad. Things are very good here too."

"And that ruthless villain; how is he acting towards you? I swear that if he ever hurts or maltreats you in any way he will ever regret having lent out a hand to me in the first place."

"He has not yet turned up here. I guess that he is having some unaccomplished work somewhere. What do you reckon yourself?"

"Heck—I am not concerned, dear, with what he does and what he doesn't do behind our unsuspicious backs. I am only concerned and bothered about you, my love."

"Well, don't be, dad. Call to mind, I volunteered to do this for our own sake and sanity. I don't ever like to visualize you and I myself thrown out there on the streets and at last helplessly and miserably dispossessed. I will do anything in my power, father—just about any kind of thing, to see that we are safe and sound. I am doing it for you alone. Don't you ever overlook this! You have done as much as you can for me up till now, and I must do all that I can for you from now onwards."

"That is so sweet of you, Daisy, my love."

"Bye dad." I bring the call to an end at this precise note. I can't withstand to converse with him any further than I already have. I am mewling and howling out uncontrollably. I wouldn't ever want him to suffer and be in gross pain and also go though bad, vulgar times. To shirk away from all this, I am going to do exactly what Preston tells me to do. I am now his bitch and wife; don't forget!

By the hour that he shows up, I am all prepared and in readiness to make love and lie down with him in our titanic, lush bed. He is looking a great much deal fagged and whacked and knackered tonight. His red ruby tie is not fixed and set up in its rightful position properly; the buttons on his black jacket are unstrapped and loosened; and even those on the flanges of his shirt are untied and loosed too. His hair is littered and cluttered about all over his head. His skin looks ashy and like death. I am wondering. What exactly the hell was going on with him?

As he ensconces himself down on the bed, I settle down besides him and in charity and compassion ask him, "Are you alright, honey? You look ready to drop down dead and terrifying too. What happened to you?"

He makes a face and glares back at me. "Don't trouble yourself asking. What is there for me to eat anyway?"

"I made a luscious dish of rice and chicken just for you," I mention this with a thrilled and ecstatic smile, hoping that he will twinkle and smirk back at me. He doesn't; and it without fail and beyond the shadow of any doubt snaps and crushes my heart and soul likewise. Is this how I will be living with this unreasonably stony-hearted man for the imminent thirty-one days starting from tomorrow? I wish I can weep and sob out, but then I don't just do it. I mean who will be here to express sympathy and solace to me? One hundred per cent and absolutely no one! Preston has got no futile and despicable time for such acts and pretences. He is surely unkind and merciless indeed!

"I think I shall eat that tomorrow. I will go and shower now if you don't mind."

"Go ahead and take a quick scrub of yourself. I think that it will do you much more good." I am about to get raging and provoked up. I don't care about anything anymore. I wonder if we will even have sex tonight. I have exclusively thirty-one days to make a child or son with him—not more, not less than this. If I will not be shrewd and ingenious here, I won't ever get pregnant with him. I honestly and seriously do mean it.