"I don't need your money." She stuck out her chin. Insistent. "I do fine." "'Fine,' but you're getting kicked out of your hotel room-" "Fine doesn't mean I can spare the money for an impromptu trip to NYC and a fancy hotel room. Regular people don't have gobs of cash lying around." The comment about regular people hit me in the gut. Because I'd always been the regular one, and she'd never been anything close to "regular." But I understood what she was saying. She wasn't desperate. She could take care of herself. She just couldn't take care of this, and to make matters worse, the reason she'd splurged on this was because she'd put all of her hope in me saying I'd help her out, and I refused. ___ We were supposed to run away after graduation. When she didn't show at our meeting place, I got brave and went after her. It was a mistake. I left bloodied and bruised. I had no choice but to walk away. Years passed. I traveled, settled halfway around the world, made enough money that I didn't have to look back. But I never got over her. Then, out of the blue, she calls. And, what she asks for, the favor that she wants? I never thought I'd be willing to take a life. But the truth is, and always has been: I'd do anything for her.
WILD REBEL
One
I
paced the length of Donovan's office, then checked my watch for the third time in as many minutes. She wasn't late yet, but there was a boulder of doubt in my stomach that had me sure she wouldn't come at all. It was a natural assumption after last time. How long had I waited that night? At what point had I known for sure that she was going to ghost?
I'd been more optimistic then. I'd waited hours. Now I relied on experience. If she were planning to show at all, the Jolie I'd known would have been early.
But I hadn't known her for a long, long time.
And the name was Julianna, not Jolie. No one called her Jolie but me, and I refused to call her that now. She didn't deserve it. In the week since I'd gotten her email, I'd practiced it over and over. Julianna, Julianna, Julianna. She wasn't Jolie anymore. Jolie disappeared the night I waited for her in a run-down pickup in the parking lot of a CTown Supermarket. Jolie was gone.
Again, I checked my watch. Not even thirty seconds had passed. Time was moving at a snail's pace. I cracked my neck from side to side before loosening my tie. I'd already taken off the jacket, and I was still sweating. It was a Saturday in December, for fuck's sake, and I was the only one in the Reach office. Did the guys keep the heater on over the weekends? No wonder the New York overhead was so high.
I crossed to the thermostat and was surprised to find it was actually set at an arctic temperature that only an asshole penny-pincher would have thought was acceptable, which made sense because Donovan and I were alike in that area. When we'd worked the office together in Tokyo, we'd had the trimmest budget of all the Reach locations. It had risen a bit when he'd moved to the States since I no longer had the time to keep a close eye on it. I hadn't really examined the New York numbers in a while, but I had a feeling they'd probably improved with his presence.
Regardless of company spending and the perspiration beading on my forehead, the current setting was not all that friendly. I'd be a bad host to leave it there. I considered doing just that before begrudgingly switching the heater on full blast. Hopefully, it would do something before Jolie showed up.
Not Jolie.
Julianna.
Fuck, this was a giant mistake. This whole thing. I shouldn't have opened the email. I shouldn't have responded. I shouldn't have told her I was going to be in New York for a wedding that I'd had no prior plans to attend. I most definitely shouldn't have dropped everything, boarded a plane, and flown halfway across the world to impatiently pace Donovan's office, waiting for her to show. Especially knowing she had a record for not showing.
If I'd been intent on justice, I would have ghosted her this time.
But it wasn't justice I needed most from Julianna Stark. It was closure. And that's why I was there-for me, not for her. And so help me God, if she'd stood me up again...
I forced myself to sit on the edge of the desk. It wasn't exactly a relaxed position, but it was better than wearing a hole in the carpet. Still antsy, I pulled out my phone and reread her email, even though I could recite it by heart without looking.
Cade,
I know I have no right to reach out to you like this, but there's no one else I can turn to...
My gaze skipped down to her signature. She'd used the name I refused to call her. The one meant to tug at my emotions. Fuck her for that. Fuck her for all of it.
My agitation renewed, I stuffed my phone back in my pocket and took a deep breath. I refused to be riled up when she got here. With my palms settled on my thighs, I traced the tattoos on the back of my hands with my eyes. It was a trick I'd taught myself a decade or so ago, back when the pressure of some of my bigger jobs got the best of me, and I needed something to help me focus. I hadn't had to use it since going into business with Donovan and the guys. Advertising was definitely a high-stress career, but it was legit, and that made it a walk in the park compared to what I'd done before.
The trick still worked. By the fifth sweep of my eyes along the inked skin, I was breathing more regularly, and even though the heat had kicked in, I was feeling cool enough to reach for my jacket.
Just as I fastened the button of the navy blue Armani, I heard the ding of the elevator arriving. Then the sound of two sets of footsteps clicking on marble flooring echoed through the hallway.
She was here.
Fuck. She was here, and I was going to keep it together, whatever it took.
I ran my hand over my beard, straightened my tie, then with a final curse under my breath, I clicked the button that turned the glass wall from opaque to transparent and moved to stand in front of it.
There wasn't a direct path to the elevators from Donovan's office, so I had to wait until the pair turned down the corridor, and then it was Fran that I saw first, the security guard that I'd tipped a hundred in exchange for personally walking my guest to the back office. Was it necessary? Probably not. I told myself I was being hospitable. Truth was, I didn't want to be alone when we first saw each other.
And when Jolie-I'd given up on calling her Julianna in my head-followed Fran around the corner, I knew I'd made the right choice because, even with her head bent and her eyes fixed on the floor, Jolie was a lodestone, and I was fighting really hard not to be iron. If it had been just the two of us, I wasn't sure I would have been able to resist her pull.
I wasn't sure I'd be able to resist her pull even with Fran between us.
Thank God for the glass wall.
Showing up now doesn't make up for not showing up back then.
In case that wasn't enough of a reminder, I forced myself to remember what had happened when I'd gone after her. My ribs hurt with the vividness of that memory. My shoulder throbbed where the bone had once been broken. My chest ached with the pain of a fractured heart.
And just like that, her pull on me diminished.
"I think she has it from here, Fran," I called out. The glass was between us, but the office door was open, so I could be heard. "Thank you."
Our lips stayed locked as we grinded and humped, a tight ball of tension growing deep in my belly. Iâd never been so intimate with someone during a first kiss let alone the first night weâd met. Never felt so close to orgasm with all of my clothes still on. Never been on the verge of begging for sex from a near strangerâThe sound of a throat clearing brought me tumbling out of ecstasy. Dylan broke his mouth from mine and peered around me. âYes?â The driver. Oh my God, Iâd forgotten about our driver. **** British ad exec Dylan Locke isn't looking for love. He isn't looking for fate. He's definitely not looking for Audrey Lind. She's pretty, far too young, and overly romantic--in short, exhausting. But when the girl, young enough to be his daughter, literally lands in his lap and asks for his expertise, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested. But Audrey isn't looking for love either--she's looking for lessons, and she's certain Dylan knows everything she needs to learn. If he agrees to play the teacher can he keep his heart? Of course he can. Then again, he might be lying.
Are You Sure You Want To Delete This Contact? He hesitated. Maybe he was overreacting. Just because his parents hadnât worked out⊠âChrist, Brad, divorced?â Stu said into the phone. Until now, Stu hadnât said much and his sudden outburst drew Micahâs attention. âI knew that chick was just after your money.â Stu paused. âLook, Iâm real sorry to hear that. Iâll get Pam to spin it to the press however you want me to. Itâs funny, I was just saying to another client that relationships in Hollywood are tough.â Stu gave a knowing wink and Micahâs mind was made up. He looked back at his phone. Are You Sure You Want To Delete This Contact? Micah pushed Yes. And Maddie from the party was erased from his phone. Erased from his life. *** On the night of her graduation from film school, straight-laced Maddie Bauers fell completely out of character for an oh-my-god make-out session with a perfect stranger. Complete with the big O. Seven years later, that romantic interlude is still fresh in her mind. That stranger is now a rich and famous actor. And sheâs one very distracted camera assistant working on his latest production. She might consider another trystâŠif he even remembers her.
Heâll get what he wantsâeven if Iâm already taken. Holt Sebastian is royalty in our world. As CEO of the Sebastian News Corp, heâs the man with all the power. The man who decides if Iâll always just be a local television anchor or if Iâll be the rising star of my own show. I make it my mission to be noticed. Make him see my potential. But soon, it's clear he's the one in charge. His possessiveness is brutal. His eyes own everything they touch. I feel his gaze on me when he's in the room. The heat of them as they rake down my body, taking me in, marking me as his. He doesnât just want me on the screenâhe wants me in his bed. And Holt Sebastian gets what he wants. No one will stop him, no one will get in his way. No one can protect me from his desire. Not even the man who promised nothing would come between us and his ambitionâmy husband.
âHeâs never going to go for you,â a voice came out of the dark in front of me. âNot while youâre a virgin.â I squinted, and when I looked closer, I saw there was another bedroom at the end of the hall with the door wide open, and though I couldnât quite make out the figure, I could see there was someone sitting in an armchair, smoking a cigarette. Or a cigar maybe. I took a step forward. Surely he wasnât talking to me, but there didnât seem to be anyone else around. âExcuse me?â âWeston never goes for virgins. Itâs one of his rules.â Heat rushed up my neck and flooded my cheeks. âUhâŠâ âYouâre offended.â **** When I met Donovan Kincaid, I knew he was rich. I didnât know he was filthy. Truth be told, I was only trying to get his best friend to notice me. I knew poor scholarship girls like me didn't stand a chance against guys like Weston King and Donovan Kincaid, but I was in love with his world, of parties and s*x and power. I knew what I wantedâI knew who I wantedâuntil one night, their world tried to bite me back and Donovan saved me. He saved me, and then Weston finally noticed me, and I finally learned what it was to be in their world. And then what it was like to lose it. Ten years later, Iâve found my way back. Back to their world. Back to him. This time, Iâm ready. I've been down this road before, and I know all the dirty, filthy ways Donovan will try and wreck me. But itâs hard to resist. Especially when I know how much Iâll like it.
I hated how he said my name, like he had all the power because he knew that bit of information about me. Hated it and loved it. I also hated how his eyes drew up my body, long and slow. Sensually touching my every curve, my every angle. Hated and loved it. Hated that I loved it. I sat on the chair that was still behind me, not trusting my legs to keep me steady for much longer. âWhat exactly is this deal you have? And who are you?â âI,â he paused, âam JC.â Iâd never heard of him. âJCâŠ?â âJust JC.â He said it like it answered everything. Two short syllables to put me in my place. âAs in Jesus Christ?â JC chuckled as well, his expression brash and sexy. âIâve been called that. But usually only when my face is pressed between a womanâs thighs.â Ew. Also, hot. ââ The only reward Gwen Anders got from her rough childhood was a thick skin and hard heart. Sheâs content with her daily grind managing a top NYC nightclubâEighty-Eighth Floor. So hers isnât a happily ever after. She doesnât believe in those anyway. Then she meets J.C. The rich, smooth talking playboy is the sexiest thing that Gwen has ever encountered, but sheâs not interested in a night-in-shining latex. But when a family tragedy pushes her to the brink, itâs J.C. whoâs there to teach her a new method of survival, one based on following primal urges and desires. His no-strings-attached lessons require her to abandon her constant need for control. Her carefully built walls are obliterated. Gwen discovers thereâs a beautiful world outside her prison. Freedom is exhilaratingâand terrifying. When she starts to feel something for J.C., she fears for her heart. Especially as she realizes that he has secrets of his own. Secrets that don't want to set him free.
How (not) to get over your crush: compare him to every man on your dating app... Chloe is on the wrong side of her quarter-life crisis. Dead-end job, lease ending, and single af. Itâs made all the harder by knowing exactly who the perfect man for her is: her super hot, incredibly kind, and extremely taken friend Austin. Whatâs a girl to do but drown her troubles in pinot and let her bestie open her an account on a dating app? If there are other perfect men out there, sheâs determined to find them. Her ensuing series of boyfriends spark several revelations for Chloe: Never date a man with step-mommy issues. Always ask about criminal records on the first date. Swimsuits were never intended to be made from leather. Maybe perfection is as overrated as her new app.
Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it allâfrom standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didnât return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachelâs terminal illness and realized she didnât have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
For as long as Emily can remember, she has wanted to overcome her shyness and explore her sexuality. Still, everything changes when she receives an invitation to visit one of the town's most prestigious BDSM clubs, DESIRE'S DEN. On the day she chose to peruse the club, she noticed three men, all dressed in suits, standing on the upper level, near the railing. Despite her limited vision, she persisted in fixating on them. Their towering statues belied the toned bodies concealed by their sharply tailored suits-or so she could tell. The hair of two of them was short and dark, and the third had light brown-possibly blond-hair that reached the shoulders. The dark, crimson background incised their figures, exuding an air of mystery and strength. They stood in stark contrast to the unfiltered, primal energy that pulsed through the club. Shocked by the desires these men aroused in her, she was disappointed to learn that they were masters seeking a slave to divide and conquer. She couldn't afford the fee, and she also realized that they were outside her league. Emily hurriedly left the club, feeling disappointed and depressed, unaware that she had also caught the group's attention. A world of wicked pleasure, three handsome men. Over the years, they have lived a life of decadence, their lavish lair serving as a stage for their most sinister desires. But despite the unending parade of willing subjects, one woman sticks out. A mysterious stranger with white porcelain skin and a killer body, a slave, a name with no address, the first lady to attract their eye and they will go to any length to obtain her no matter the consequences.
"I heard you're going to marry Marcelo. Is this perhaps your revenge against me? It's very laughable, Renee. That man can barely function." Her foster family, her cheating ex, everyone thought Renee was going to live in pure hell after getting married to a disabled and cruel man. She didn't know if anything good would ever come out of it after all, she had always thought it would be hard for anyone to love her but this cruel man with dark secrets is never going to grant her a divorce because she makes him forget how to breathe.
Elodie took a deep breath and knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor. A moment of silence passed, broken only by the pounding of her heart. Finally, the door snicked open, revealing a surprised Dashiell. 'Can't you see the Do Not Disturb sign? We don't want-' His initial frown quickly morphed into confusion at the sight of his wife. 'What are you doing here?' he demanded. 'Your girlfriend invited me,' Elodie replied, her voice laced with icy calm. She tried to peer past him, but his broad frame blocked the view. A saccharine voice chimed in from within the room. 'Elodie? Oh dear, we didn't mean for you to find out this way. It's just that-' Elodie cut her short. 'Oh please, Selene. Spare me the fake apologies. You wouldn't have sent me all those texts if you didn't want me to know.' Dashiell shifted uncomfortably, his face a mask of annoyance. 'What texts?' Elodie stepped past him, taking in the luxurious suite with a sardonic smile. The king-sized bed, the scattered rose petals, the lingering scent of sex â it all painted a vivid picture of their betrayal. She looked up at Dashiell, her gaze unwavering. 'I want a divorce.' ****** Dashiell lived a life of luxury, surrounded by the best things money could buy. But when a car accident left him vulnerable, he met Elodie, a seemingly ordinary woman who nursed him back to health. Mistaking her for just another employee, Dashiell entered into a loveless marriage with her solely for convenience. However, fate had a different script in store. Elodie, the 'ordinary nurse,' held a secret more precious than any diamond: she was the sole heiress to Northstar, a vast and powerful enterprise. Unaware of her true identity, Dashiell cast her aside when his ex-girlfriend returned, leaving Elodie humiliated. But Elodie was not one to be easily broken. She shed the facade of the meek nurse, reclaiming her rightful inheritance and stepping into the role of Northstar's CEO. Now, the woman Dashiell discarded was the one holding the reins of power. As Elodie thrives in her new role, Dashiell is consumed by regret. He finally sees Elodie for the extraordinary woman she truly is, realising the depth of his mistake. But will his remorse be enough to win back the heart he so carelessly discarded?
On her wedding day, Khloeâs sister connived with her groom, framing her for a crime she didnât commit. She was sentenced to three years in prison, where she endured much suffering. When Khloe was finally released, her evil sister used their mother to coerce Khloe into an indecent liaison with an elderly man. As fate would have it, Khloe crossed paths with Henrik, the dashing yet ruthless mobster who sought to alter the course of her life. Despite Henrikâs cold exterior, he cherished Khloe like no other. He helped her take retribution from her tormentors and kept her from being bullied again.