Possessive for the Sweetheart (Possessive Billionaires, Precious Sweethearts #7)

Chapter 1 Officially Married

Luxe Bar stretched wide across the building’s interior, its upper level reserved for those who didn’t mix with the crowd. The VIP floor curved above the main bar, overlooking it from behind smoked glass and sleek railings, a quiet throne for Manhattan’s wealthiest.

Below, the bar pulsed with light and music; above, men sat untouched by the noise—tailored suits fitted perfectly to their frames, polished shoes resting against dark wood and marble. Rolex watches glinted lazily as drinks were lifted, their confidence effortless.

“Are you really not even going to show up for the date you have today?” Sebastian snickered, swirling the drink in his glass. “Mom is going to be so fucking pissed, Magnus.”

Alexander drawled, the sound careless and amused. “I think he’s more than happy to get scolded by her nowadays. It’s basically become a weekly ritual for him.”

Laughter went around the table.

Magnus didn’t join them.

He sat back in his chair, broad shoulders relaxed but imposing, one arm resting casually against the table. His dark hair was neatly styled, a few strands falling just enough to soften the sharpness of his face. The cut of his suit was flawless, tailored to his tall frame.

He kept his eyes fixed on the glass in his hand—gray, cold, and razor-sharp beneath lowered lashes. When he tipped it back and drained the drink in one smooth motion, his throat moved slowly. Only then did he lower the glass.

“I don’t have time to waste,” he said flatly. “I’m tired of listening to the same words from her. I’m not going on another damn date even if she disowns me for it.”

Alexander took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I saw the photo of the girl. She’s quite good-looking.”

Magnus gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Looks mean nothing. Every girl I’ve seen is pretty enough. That’s not the problem. I just have no interest in wasting my time on any of them.”

“If you’re not interested,” Sebastian asked, “then why agree to the date at all? Why let Mom arrange it if you never planned on showing up?”

Suddenly—

Bang.

A pair of hands slammed down on the table.

All three men flinched, startled, and looked up.

A woman loomed over the table. Magnus’s chair scraped loudly as he jolted back, nearly losing his balance. His eyes locked onto her face—and froze.

She was staring straight at him.

Her red lipstick was bold and precise, standing out against her clear, flawless skin.

Her hair was tightly held up with a sleek clutch, exposing her neck.

She wore a white mandarin collar halter dress, buttoned up to the base of her throat, the hem stopping high on her thighs.

Silver earrings with white gems shimmered at her ears.

Her features were soft, almost delicate.

Her face was calm.

Her eyes were not.

They burned straight through him.

“Why didn’t you show up for our date?” she asked sharply.

The table went silent.

Sebastian and Alexander exchanged stunned looks.

Magnus never took his eyes off her.

After a moment, he frowned slightly, studying her as if pulling her from memory. Then, in a low, confused voice, he said, “Sophia… Kane?”

“King!” she snapped. “It’s Sophia King. And you were supposed to be on a date with me three damn hours ago. Instead, you’re here getting drunk?”

Now that the initial shock faded, Magnus relaxed back into his seat. He placed his glass down on the table with deliberate calm.

“Was that not clear enough for you to take it as a no?” he said coldly, his voice flat and dismissive, as if the conversation wasn’t even worth continuing.

Yet his eyes never left her—as if something about her physically refused to let him look away.

Sophia’s lips thinned. Her eyes narrowed. Her body went rigid as her hands tightened into fists on the table. She straightened fully, adjusting the bag on her shoulder before meeting his gaze again.

“Mr. Graves,” she said quietly, folding her arms over her chest, “let’s talk privately.”

“I do not have—” Magnus started.

“Three minutes,” she cut in calmly. Her eyes hardened. “You owe me that for wasting three hours of my time, alone at a table in a five-star restaurant.”

Magnus’s gaze stayed fixed on her while Alexander and Sebastian exchanged looks, barely holding back their expressions.

No one—no one—had ever spoken to Magnus Graves like that. Not to his face. Not behind his back. The man had grown up getting everything he wanted, whenever he wanted it. People bent. Apologized. Flattered. Magnus was used to being indulged, obeyed, and feared. He always got his way.

And yet here was a woman standing in front of him, confronting him without hesitation, without fear, and without respect.

They couldn’t believe what they were witnessing.

Magnus, on the other hand, looked like fury carved into human form. His eyes darkened, irritation flashing through them.

But instead of exploding, he smoothed his expression into a blank mask. Slowly, he rose to his feet, straightened his suit jacket, and adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with controlled precision.

“Come on,” the woman snapped impatiently. “I don’t have all night.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the bar without waiting for him.

The moment she disappeared, Alexander and Sebastian completely lost it.

They burst out laughing, unable to hold it back any longer. Magnus shot them a lethal glare, but it only made things worse. Their laughter grew louder.

Magnus clenched his jaw, teeth grinding. Without sparing them another look, he turned sharply and strode after the woman.

Exactly five minutes later—

Sebastian’s phone buzzed on the table.

He glanced down and froze when he saw the name on the screen.

Camila.

He picked up the call and put it to his ear. Before he could even speak, Camila’s excited voice exploded through the line.

“We’re having another wedding soon! Magnus agreed—he’s getting married to Sophia!”

She nearly shouted in joy.

Sebastian’s eyes widened in disbelief. His stunned gaze snapped toward Alexander, who was already staring at him, confused.

“Are you sure?” Sebastian asked quickly, needing to hear it again.

“Yes!” Camila laughed. “I just got a call from him. He said he’s marrying Sophia,” Camila said breathlessly. “Where’s Alexander? Is he with you?”

“He’s with me,” Sebastian replied, still dazed. “I’ll tell him.”

Then, he hung up.

Alexander was still staring at him when Sebastian looked up and said bluntly, “Magnus agreed to marry Sophia.”

Alexander snapped upright on the couch, eyes widening in pure shock. “Are you serious?” he demanded, slamming his glass down on the table before letting out a stunned, disbelieving laugh. “What the hell?”

And then—

Magnus returned.

He walked back to the table calmly and dropped into the couch opposite them. Casually, he picked up the glass he’d left behind and took another sip, as if nothing unusual had happened.

Alexander and Sebastian stared at him, then at each other, and then back at him—completely stunned.

“What the fuck was that?” Sebastian questioned. “Mom just called and said you agreed to marry Sophia. Is that true?”

Magnus shrugged lazily, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes.”

Alexander stared at him in disbelief. “Didn’t you say you’d never get married? What the hell happened?”

Magnus took another slow swallow of his drink before finally meeting their eyes.

“I changed my mind. I’m getting married tomorrow,” he said calmly. “At the courthouse.”

They both froze.

“No gifts,” he added casually.

He placed the glass back on the table, stood up without another word, and walked out.

Alexander and Sebastian sat there in stunned silence, staring at his disappearing back—shock written clearly across their faces.

***

“Please look here in the camera, Mr. Graves. Would you like to wrap your arm around the lady’s shoulders?”

The photographer smiled at them, lifting his head from behind the camera to look expectantly in their direction.

Magnus glanced at Sophia for a brief second before lifting his arm and placing it around her shoulder.

They sat side by side in front of the camera, the photographer snapping shots as flashes went off.

Sophia wore an elegant white dress that stopped above her knees. Pearls adorned her ears, and a delicate necklace rested against her collarbone, the kind that likely cost a small fortune. Her posture was composed, hands folded neatly in her lap, phone resting between her fingers.

Yet her calm was a facade.

Her fingers shifted restlessly, again and again. She glanced down at her phone repeatedly, impatience flickering in her eyes every time she looked back up at the camera.

Magnus, seated beside her, wore a dark coat tailored perfectly to his frame. His face was as charming as ever, expression unreadable, composed.

Sophia finally looked at the photographer and asked, her tone polite but edged with urgency, “How long do you think this will take? To officially register the marriage?”

Magnus’s gaze snapped to her.

His eyes darkened, distaste flashing through them.

‘Is she really this desperate to marry into a rich family?’ he thought coldly.

The photographer chuckled as he adjusted the lens. “Not long, Mrs. Graves. Just a few more minutes.”

Sophia stiffened slightly at the title.

She glanced toward Magnus and caught the look on his face. Instantly, she let out an awkward laugh, waving it off. “I’m just bored of this place already,” she said lightly. “Let’s get this over with and leave. Aren’t you bored too?”

Without waiting for his response, she turned back to the photographer. “We’re ready, sir. Please take the photo.”

The photographer nodded. “Smile.”

The shutter clicked loudly, echoing through the room.

“All done,” the photographer said, lowering the camera. He gestured toward a nearby table where an officer waited. “Please head over there and sign the papers to register your marriage.”

Sophia stood up immediately and hurried toward the table.