Chapter 1

I’m a professional suitor. I get paid to handle the emotional heavy lifting for my clients.

A wealthy woman once paid me nine million to pursue her daughter, Anya, for three years.

I swallowed my pride and endured countless indignities. But I finally reached the end of my contract, and I promptly stopped playing the desperate suitor.

To my utter shock, Anya finally cracked.

"Dean, you have ten minutes to get here and pick me up, or I swear I'll slap you silly!"

It was half past midnight.

I'd just drifted off to sleep when Cassie's demanding calls, which felt like a death sentence, pulled me straight out of bed.

She always called me in the middle of the night, ordering me to drive her to some club to party.

I wasn't her personal chauffeur, but I had to be on call, 24/7.

Because I was her contracted lapdog, specifically hired to cater to her every whim.

Cassie's mom was a wealthy socialite, absolutely obsessed with her daughter.

Three years ago, she found me and offered me a "lapdog contract."

My job was to be Cassie's loyal follower, to stick to her like glue, caring for her.

I had to anticipate her every need, cater to her every whim, and ensure she never felt even the slightest bit of discomfort or dissatisfaction.

For a term of three years, the payment was nine million dollars.

For me, it was an undeniable jackpot.

Of course, I took it seriously, diligently fulfilling every obligation of my lapdog contract.

Cassie was fair-skinned, beautiful, and came from a privileged background – the epitome of a goddess in everyone else's eyes.

But only I knew just how rotten that woman truly was, how ugly her soul.

She was extravagant, arrogant, unreasonable, and had a temper that could curdle milk.

She wasn't like other young ladies from good families, skilled in traditional arts.

She was addicted to every vice imaginable – drinking, partying, gambling, and always surrounded by trouble.

Her rumored boyfriends changed every other week, and juggling multiple relationships was her everyday routine. A total heartbreaker!

Since I appeared, Cassie had added another hobby to her list: torturing her lapdog.

She constantly found new ways to torment me, her attitude towards me swinging wildly between hot and cold.

She loved to mess with my head, always with her 'hot and cold' routine – a stinging slap, then a tempting piece of candy.

As a professional lapdog, I had to play my part convincingly.

Whenever I saw her with other men, I'd put on a show of extreme agony.

Heartbreak, jealousy, envy, fury...

That's when her twisted mind would find its ultimate satisfaction.

Then, she'd whisper a few empty, pretty words to appease me.

And I'd come crawling back, eager to please, resuming my role of doting on her, always compliant.

Her demands on me were incredibly strict.

She expected me to be there at her beck and call, a minute late was unacceptable.

Even if she called me in the dead of night to drive her somewhere, I had to get up immediately.

It meant I hadn't had a single night of peaceful sleep in three years.

This led to severe insomnia and nervous exhaustion.

Yet, I couldn't even take sleeping pills, fearing I wouldn't wake up when she called.

Of course, for that nine million dollar fortune, I could endure all of it.

What I found most unbearable was Cassie's habit of publicly humiliating me – that was her most twisted pleasure.

Like making me kneel before her and her dates, lick their shoes clean, and bark like a dog on command.

She and her dates would erupt in piercing laughter, calling me the most obedient lapdog.

Any normal man would find such degradation intolerable.

But bound by the contract, I could only swallow my pride and endure.

This life of humiliation and forbearance had lasted three years, and now, I was finally seeing the light at the end of this hellish tunnel!

I checked the time. Less than six hours until the contract expired.

As soon as dawn broke, I'd be completely free. No more fawning over her.

For now, though, I still had to diligently fulfill my contract. I immediately headed to the location Cassie had sent me.

I drove her Maserati, speeding through the streets like a bat out of hell.

The car was, of course, Cassie's, but I was always the one driving her around.

Looking at the car's emblem on the steering wheel, a faint smirk touched my lips.

As soon as it was morning, and the nine million hit my account,

I'd go straight to the dealership and pick up my own luxury car.

No more nagging voice from the backseat, ordering me here and there.

The thought alone sent a thrill through me!