My CEO Thinks He Pays for My Love

One dollar short of rent, Ella kicks down her neighbor's door and saves him: a billionaire, unconscious, amnesia — so the butler says. Before she can leave, a contract lands in her lap. Pretend to be his girlfriend. Two hundred grand a month. She signs in 0.3 seconds. Smiles billed per instance. Hugs priced by the second. Then she finds the hidden deed in his study — her name on it, dated a year ago, the day she fed a stray cat in the hall. Back when they'd never spoken once.