Rich Boys Do It Best

Dark eyes, brown hair and a gaze that could cut as sharp as glass. That was the kind of man I married.

It wasn't forced. I agreed to it, but God knows I wasn't ready for half of what this man was about to give.

What am I supposed to to do now? I'm stuck with someone I can never figure out. It's exhausting to watch him by a building because it was blocking his view then talk about wasting money.

I'm stuck with a rich boy, but they do it best.