Wait, My Incubus is the Richest Man?

I bought a gorgeous incubus online to do my chores—dishes, mopping, even hand-washing my underwear. He did it all without complaint, but he kept purring and burning up. Customer service: “He's not sick. He's starving to kiss you.” One wild night, then he vanished. Next thing I knew—he showed up in a tailored suit. He's the missing Vance Corp CEO. He pinned me to the wall: “You ordered a replacement? My sock-washing wasn't good enough?” I kissed him. “Scold me later. Kiss me first.”