reality. – What reality, father? – Daisy asked. – That you were not made for the British aristocracy. I obtained a low rate of return on my investment in your search for a husband. Do you know what that means, Daisy? – That I am a bad investment? – Daisy tried to guess. No one would guess that Daisy was a 22-year-old girl. Small, slender, and dark-haired, she still had the agility and exuberance of a child, while other women had already become sensible matrons. Sitting with her legs draped over the seat, she looked like a porcelain doll abandoned in the corner of the sofa. It irritated Bowman to see his daughter holding a book in her lap, one finger marking the page. She obviously couldn't wait for him to finish speaking so she could resume reading. "Put that down," he ordered. "Yes, Father." Surreptitiously, Daisy opened the book to see the page number and put it aside. The small gesture irritated Bowman. Books... The mere sight of a book had come to represent his daughter's shameful failure on the marriage market. Drawing on a large cigar, Bowman sat in an upholstered chair in the hotel suite they had occupied for more than two years. His wife, Mercedes, was perched in a high-backed wicker chair. Bowman was a large man, as intimidating in his physical size as in his manner. Although he was bald, he had a thick mustache, as if all the energy needed to grow hair had been channeled into his upper lip. At the time of their marriage, Mercedes had been extraordinarily thin. Over the years she had become even thinner, like a bar of soap being whittled down to a thin strip. Her straight black hair was always tied back. The sleeves of her dresses were tightly fitted to tiny cuffs that were so thin they could have been snapped like birch twigs. Even when she sat still, she exuded a nervous energy. Bowman had never regretted choosing Mercedes as his wife. Her iron ambition matched his perfectly. She was a tough, shrewd woman, always seeking a place for the Bowmans in high society. It was Mercedes who had insisted on taking her daughters to England.
strong-willed, but three of his children were too placid and accepting of things as they were. They assumed that everything would fall into their hands, like ripe fruit from a tree trunk. Lillian was the only one who seemed to have inherited some of the Bowmans' feisty spirit, but she was a woman. And then there was Daisy. Of all his children, she had always been the one Thomas Bowman understood least. Even as a child, Daisy had never drawn the right conclusions from the stories he told her, asking only questions that never seemed relevant.
When he had explained to her why investors seeking low risk and moderate returns should put their money in government bonds, Daisy had interrupted him by asking, "Father, wouldn't it be wonderful if the hummingbirds got together for tea and we were small enough to be invited?" Over the years, Bowman's efforts to change Daisy had met with valiant resistance. His daughter liked the way she was. Trying to change her was like herding a flock of butterflies. Simply impossible. Since Bowman had been half-mad about his daughter's unpredictable nature, he was not at all surprised by the lack of men willing to take her on for life. What kind of mother would she be, babbling about fairies coming down rainbows instead of instilling sensible rules in her children's heads? Mercedes chimed in with a dismayed voice: "Mr. Bowman, the season is far from over. And Daisy has made excellent progress so far." Lord Westcliff introduced her to several promising gentlemen, all of whom were very interested in the prospect of becoming the earl's brothers-in-law. "It is obvious that each of these 'promising gentlemen' is interested in becoming Westcliff's brother-in-law rather than Daisy's husband," Bowman said darkly. "Does any of these men intend to propose to her?" "She cannot know," Mercedes argued. "Women always know these things. Tell me, Daisy, is there any chance of you marrying one of these gentlemen?" The young woman hesitated, her dark eyes revealing concern. "No, Father," she admitted frankly. "As I thought." Folding his thick fingers over his belly, Bowman looked authoritatively at the two silent women. "Your failure has become inconvenient, child. I am concerned about the unnecessary expense of dresses and trinkets-the tedium of chauffeuring you from one unproductive ball to another. More than that, I am concerned that this adventure has kept me in England when I am needed in New York. That is why I have decided to choose a husband for you." Daisy stared at him, confused. "Who do you have in mind, Father?" "Matthew Swift." Mercedes looked at her husband as if he had gone mad. "That makes no sense! This marriage would do us no good. Mr. Swift is not an aristocrat and does not have significant wealth..." "He is one of the Swifts of Boston," Bowman countered. "Hardly any family would turn their nose up at that. He has a good name and a good lineage. And most importantly, Swift is devoted to me. He is one of the most business-savvy people I have ever met. I want him as my son-in-law. I want him to inherit my company when the time comes." "You have three legitimate sons who will inherit it," Mercedes countered indignantly. "None of them give a damn about the company. They have no interest in it." Thinking of Matthew Swift, who had flourished under his tutelage for almost ten years, Bowman felt his pride blossom. The young man was more like him than his own sons. "None of them have Swift's ambition and coldness." I will make him the father of my heirs." "You're mad!" Mercedes exclaimed irritably. Daisy spoke in a calm tone, completely different from her father's. "I must stress that my cooperation is necessary, especially now that we're talking about heirs. And I assure you that no power on earth will force me to bear children by a man I don't like." "I thought you wanted to be useful to someone," Bowman roared. It had always been in his nature to fight rebellion with overwhelming force. "I thought you wanted a husband and a home instead of continuing to live like a parasite." Daisy flinched as if he'd slapped her. "I'm not a parasite." "No? Then explain to me how the world has benefited from your presence. What have you ever done for anyone?" Faced with the task of justifying her existence, Daisy glared at him coldly and remained silent. "That is my ultimatum," Bowman said. "Find me a suitable husband by the end of May or I will marry you to Swift." "I shouldn't tell you this," Daisy grumbled, pacing the Marsden drawing room later that evening. "In your condition, you shouldn't worry. But I'll burst if I keep it to myself, which would probably worry you infinitely more." Her older sister lifted her head from where it was resting on Lord Westcliff's shoulder. "Tell me," Lillian said, fighting back another wave of nausea. "I only worry when people keep things from me." She was reclining on the long sofa as Westcliff spooned lemon sorbet into her mouth. Lillian closed her eyes as she swallowed, her dark lashes striking a pale contrast to her cheeks. "Better?" Westcliff asked gently, wiping a drop from the corner of his wife's lips. Lillian nodded, her face alarmingly pale. "Yes, I think it's helping. Ugh. You better pray for a boy, Westcliff, because this is your only chance of having an heir." I'll never go through that again..." "Open your mouth," he said, and fed her more ice cream. Normally Daisy would have been touched by this glimpse into the Westcliffs' private lives. It was rare to see Lillian so vulnerable or Marcus so kind and concerned. But Daisy was so distracted by her own problems that she barely noticed their interaction as she spoke impulsively, "Father gave me an ultimatum. Tonight he-" "Wait," Westcliff said quietly, adjusting his wife's position. As he settled her on her side, Lillian leaned more heavily against him and rested one of her slender white hands on her belly. He murmured something indecipherable into her tousled ebony hair, and she nodded with a sigh. Anyone who had witnessed Westcliff's tenderness toward his young wife could not fail to notice the changes in the earl, who had always been known as a cold man. He had become much more approachable, he smiled more, and his standards of behavior had become far less rigid. Which was a good thing for a man who had Lillian as his wife and Daisy as his sister-in-law. Westcliff frowned and focused on Daisy. Though the earl said nothing, Daisy saw in his eyes the desire to protect Lillian from anything that might disturb her peace. Daisy suddenly felt ashamed of having gone to her sister to tell her about the injustices her father had committed. Instead of keeping her troubles to herself, she had run to her older sister like a chattering child. But then Lillian's brown eyes opened, warm and smiling, and a thousand childhood memories floated through the air like happy fireflies. The sisters' closeness was something that even
second, third, and fourth times... Then he says we're more than friends, and I feel myself melt. Turns out even a man like him has a heart. It's a shame we can't be together. Because he'll never be able to find out that... He's the father of my child. "How about another drink?" The deep voice sent a shiver down my spine and I looked to my left to see who had spoken. Holy shit. I was face to face with the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. He was tall enough to tower over me, even when I was sitting on a tall bar stool, and his broad shoulders strained against the sports jacket he wore. His thick black hair was swept back from his face, giving me a full view of his dark blue eyes. They watched me with an intensity I'd never seen before, and I was instantly drawn to him. I toyed with the rim of my empty glass. "And...how much would that cost me?" His smile widened. He sat down on the stool next to mine, leaning in close. "Time." He paused, tilting his head. "And sleep." "Sleep?" I raised a questioning eyebrow. "Well, we won't be getting much sleep tonight, so you'll probably be tired in the morning." I couldn't help but blush. Normally, a one-liner like that would have been a huge turn-off, and I would have headed for the door without a backward glance. I'd been approached before, and I was definitely no stranger to men with big... egos, but his confidence seemed well-earned. I could sense there was something... breathtaking about him. The bartender placed a full glass in front of me before taking the empty glass away. Hooking up with a strange man wasn't something I'd planned on doing tonight; in fact, it wasn't something I'd done before or intended to do. I could feel the refusal I'd prepared dying in my throat. I'd been working so hard, for God's sake! I deserved to go out and have some fun for a change. "Convince me." I accepted the drink, feeling quite bold, like some kind of femme fatale. He raised an eyebrow in amusement and gave me a 'I guess looking at me would be enough' gesture. "Well, you're attractive," I admitted. "And so far you seem nice, but I don't know you." "What better way to get to know someone than to get naked and explore each other?" "Maybe, I don't know... a name first?" He chuckled, his rich baritone sending a wave of desire through me. Those deep eyes gleamed as he leaned in close. "Jonah." "Hi, Jonah. I'm Naomi." Jonah's eyes softened and he reached out to take my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Naomi." The way his mouth enveloped my name made my entire body flush. "There, now we've met. So let's finish our drinks, go out together, and spend several pleasant hours discovering each other." I had to admit, this all sounded pretty amazing. As the collar of his jacket moved, I could see the hint of a tattoo.
lights blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. I close my eyes, trying to block it all out. But I can't. I can't escape the betrayal. I can't escape the pain. I reach for the bottle again, the glass heavy in my hand. I take another sip, this time straight from the bottle, feeling the liquor slide down my throat. I welcome the pain. I deserve it. I was too blind to see the signs. Too stupid to realize what was happening right under my nose. For over six damn months. My boiling anger boils over, a white-hot rage. I throw the bottle across the room, the glass shattering into a million pieces. The sound echoes through the suite, a sharp contrast to the silence. I sink back onto the couch, the leather creaking beneath my weight. I'm alone now, surrounded by shards of glass and broken promises. But I don't care. I'm here to drink, to escape, to vent my anger. And no one, not even Cassandra or Ace, can stop me. I'm a volcano about to erupt. My eyes land on one of my guitars, sitting in the corner, a silent witness to my pain. It's a custom Gibson Les Paul, as dark as my mood. I walk over to it furiously, gripping it by the neck, the smooth wood familiar beneath my fingers. My reflection stares back at me from the shiny surface. Dark hair a little too long, a dark beard shadowing my jaw, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Dark eyes glower at me. My arms, muscled from years of playing guitar and working out, flex as I lift the instrument. The leather bracelets on my wrists, a constant fixture, stand out against my tattooed arm and highlight my long, strong fingers. The tattoo on my right arm, an intricate design of a phoenix rising from the ashes, seems to mock me. I'm not rising from anything right now. I'm drowning. With a sudden roar, I slam the guitar against the wall. The sound of cracking wood and snapping strings echoes through the room, a symphony of destruction. I watch as pieces of the guitar scatter across the floor, a mirror image of my heart and soul. I turn to the bar, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The glasses are lined in neat rows, their crystal surfaces glinting in the soft light. I pick one up, the delicate stem breaking between my fingers. Another follows, then another, the sound of glass breaking a harsh melody in the silence. My chest heaves, my heart slamming against my ribs. I look around the room at the destruction I've caused. The shattered guitar, the broken glasses, the chaos. It's a reflection of my life, the mess I'm in. And for the first time, I admit it to myself. Cassandra and I haven't exactly been on good terms for a while. She was selfish, difficult, always putting herself first. She was a beast in bed, which probably blinded me. But I was the one making all the sacrifices, the one trying to make things work. The one with the big money, supporting.
Paris! My first morning in Paris! I almost whirl into a dance, but I catch myself as I step out of my suite. The golden light of the Parisian morning filters through the tall windows of the George V Hotel, casting a warm glow on the marble floors. I step into the grand lobby, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. I'm really here-Paris! The city of love, art, and endless possibilities. I head to the reception desk, where a kind-faced, silver-haired man in an impeccably pressed uniform stands ready to help. His name tag reads "Henri." My brother Simon mentioned that Henri was the best concierge in Paris. As I approach, he gives me a polite nod and a warm smile. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Sinclair. You look lovely, my dear. How may I be of assistance today?" "Good morning, Henri!" I can't help but smile back at him. "Would you please arrange for a hotel driver, a car? I'm heading to the Louvre this morning. I've decided that my first day of exploring has to be there, and I can't wait to take in all its treasures." Henri's smile widens, and he nods approvingly. "Ah, the Louvre. An excellent choice for your first day. You will find it truly magnificent. Just a moment, mademoiselle." He picks up his phone and makes a quick call. Within moments, he confirms that a hotel car will be arriving shortly. As I wait, I glance around the lobby, taking in the opulent ambiance. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting sparkling reflections on the polished surfaces. Elegant, plush furnishings invite guests to relax and linger. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the soft clink of fine china from the nearby dining room. It's like stepping into a dream. I turn to Henri, who's now watching me with friendly curiosity. "How's your brother, the esteemed Simon Sinclair?" he asks. "Busy conquering the world, as usual." I laugh. I love my brother so much, and of course Henri would know him, or know of him. Simon seems to know everyone, or everyone knows him, I reflect, from governors, film directors, and captains of industry to the best concierge in Paris. "And is this your first time here, mademoiselle?
cloudy glass, whose windshield was trying uselessly to clear it, was something that had stayed with me for five years. Almost every night, that nightmare was my greatest companion. Except that, when I woke up, I didn't feel the relief of not being in my reality. On the contrary... the empty bed was proof enough that the death of two people so important in my life was not an illusion. I was the one who caused that death. It was my fault and no one else's. I always knew I was a controlling son of a bitch, and I fought day after day not to suffocate TaÃs with my temper. She was never submissive, not at all, and that was what I loved most about her personality, although it was a fetish of mine in bed that my wife had never been able to fulfill. Maybe, that day, I should have let my fucking control freak take over and locked her in the house to stop her from leaving. Much less taking our son with her. Or maybe I shouldn't have followed them, swearing I would be protecting them. That the best option was to try to bring her back home. TaÃs was no longer happy. She never wanted marriage. Pregnancy had led her to agree to our union, but she was too young. I had convinced her, and nothing would ever make me regret it so much again. Being a father was my dream. It still was, in fact. I hadn't expected to have a child only to lose him less than a year later. He would have been six by then. He would have been running around at that party, just like the beautiful little girl in the pink dress whose parents had already scolded her more than once. I hated parties like that, where all that reigned was hypocrisy. Where people looked at me as if I were watching each one of them to write down any little mistake on my list of future dismissals. So, a breath of fresh air like that, the sound of a child's laughter, her mischievous manner... all of that almost made me smile. Almost. The little girl was probably the daughter of one of my employees. I couldn't say for sure, because I wasn't exactly attentive to their personal lives. What really mattered to me was their performance within the office. I used to be a little more sociable – but only a little – but after TaÃs died, I literally closed myself off from the world. At the office, I was known as Iron Man; I was just as controlling as I was in my personal life. People didn't know that this information was passed on to me, but unfortunately for them, the only person who had any access to me was my secretary, and she would tell me this with a laugh. I didn't find the nickname that funny, although her laugh was adorable. By the way, she was at the party. She was very pretty – that was what I could see from a distance.
have closed myself off so much from the world around me, becoming a person without friends. Because I was always studying or doing something to please my father, I didn't have time for friends, and the very few people I knew only approached me out of interest. The only people I have are my father and Edna, my former nanny who is now a housekeeper. I am currently twenty-five years old, and last year I graduated in another course, Political Science, and after waiting a long time, I decided that I am going to pursue my dreams. Today I am going to take my first step. I sent my resume three days ago to a very famous company here in Canada. I didn't wait long; yesterday they called me, asking me to attend a job interview, but it's me and two other people who are competing for that position. But you're rich, why do you want to work? Well, my father is rich, not me. I want to try to achieve my dreams starting from the bottom, just like my grandfather did; I want to climb the ladder little by little, with my own efforts, and even though I've never worked, I know that if I work hard and dedicate myself, I'll make it, no matter what the difficulties. I snap out of my reverie when I hear someone knocking on the door, I tell him to come in, and I immediately see Edna. "Good morning, my dear, your father is waiting for you for breakfast." "Good morning, Edna, tell him I'll be right there, I'm just going to take a shower and get ready. And I hope you'll have breakfast with us." She smiles awkwardly. "Of course, your father already told me that." "My father knows you're family." - Once again, Edna smiles awkwardly. - I'll be right there, I'll wait for you downstairs - I agree and as soon as she leaves my room, I quickly head to the bathroom to do my morning hygiene. I get out of the shower, dry myself and wrap myself in a towel. I go to my closet which, to be honest, is too big for just one person, and choose a simple outfit that consists of dark dress pants, a white long-sleeved blouse and a dark blazer, and a pair of satin leather high heels. I dry my long blonde hair and tie it in a high, somewhat messy bun, put on some lip gloss, put on my glasses that make my greenish eyes a little less prominent and my black leather bag. I look at myself in the mirror and am pleased with the result; I leave the room with a huge smile on my face and when I get to the breakfast table, I kiss my father on the cheek, wishing him a good morning and he kisses me back. - It seems like someone woke up in a good mood today - he says, referring to the huge smile on my face. My father is a handsome man for his age, at the height of forty-seven, tall, athletic body, since he works out and practices martial arts, white skin, square jaw with a thin beard, greenish eyes, dark hair with some gray tones and a captivating smile; I lost count of how many times I went to some event with him and women fell drooling over him. - Of course, today I'm going to my first job interview, I'm very excited. - I sit at the table and pour myself a coffee. - I'm very proud of you, my princess, I hope everything goes well. - Of course you will; Elisa is a very intelligent woman, they'll definitely hire her - my father murmurs, already drinking his coffee. - I don't want to create too many expectations - I say awkwardly. - Of course you should, you're intelligent, you've studied since you were little and graduated from the best schools and universities in the world, my love; obviously you'll make it. - I smile awkwardly at my father. It's always been like this, he sets too many expectations for everything I do; if I don't get this job.
name is Remi, aka Rogue Angel, and I normally work for a security company testing client systems. But now a shadowy villain has tracked me down and given me an ultimatum. I have to hack Rivera Tech-the largest tech company in the world, owned by billionaire CEO Maverick Rivera. If I do this, I'll get paid and I'll be able to help my adoptive mother. If I don't, my family will be in danger. Hacking Rivera is no walk in the park, and I soon find myself in a tantalizing game of cat and mouse with the big, bad-tempered, sexy Maverick. What I never, ever expected was for him to make me feel safe, or threaten my closely guarded heart, or set every part of me on fire. I can't drag him into my mess. But Maverick has other ideas, and he's not a man who takes no for an answer. ANGEL DEROGUES TO Remi "Oh, you think you can keep me out? Not today." My fingers danced over my keyboard. It glowed, each keystroke barely making a sound. I'd paid a small fortune for the keyboard and laptop. They were my babies. I'd already mapped out the target system. Its cybersecurity was good, but not great. I knew I'd set off some alarm, so they knew I was snooping around. "But no one can stop Rogue Angel." With a grin, I stared at the glowing screen, scanning the code. I tapped a command. Woot. I was in. I shifted my ass in my chair. Time to finish this. I zoomed in on the system, found the file I needed, and made a copy. Time to go. I left my signature image behind-glowing blue angel wings made of computer code. Smiling, I leaned back and flexed my hands. Then I buffed my nails on my shirt and blew on them. I was a hacker, so I kept my nails short and manicured, but I loved painting them. Right now, they were a bright, blinding yellow. Then I opened a new window and made a call. My boss appeared on the screen. I took a second to take in the view-Killian Hawke was worth a second or two of appreciation. The man always made me think of a sharp blade, with precision. He was lean, with an aquiline face, black hair, black eyes. Those eyes were sharp and missed nothing. He wore a black suit, even though it was Sunday-I'd never seen him in anything else. Even on the computer screen, he radiated a predatory danger that made my hindbrain go very, very quiet. "Done," I said. "Check your inbox." The head of Sentinel Security glanced to his left and nodded. "Well done, Remi. Impressive, as always." Damn, the man had the sexiest voice. Like melted hot chocolate with a hint of spice. It didn't quite match his sleek, dangerous persona. "Our client will be very happy," Killian said. "Happy that I hacked them?" Happy that they know their vulnerabilities and how Sentinel Security can help eliminate them. And pay Killian a billion dollars for his work. Sentinel did all sorts of security. I knew Killian had a private army of ex-military badasses, but he also specialized in cybersecurity. I'd been working for Sentinel for several years. Companies hired me to test their systems and improve their security. It was a good business. I used
Rose looked at the reports in her hand and was in shock... The reports said that she was one month pregnant, however, how can she get pregnant when she didn't have any man in her life... "Was it because of that dream? Could I get pregnant because I have sex in my dream?" She thought... She didn't have any mental problems, however, except for this she can't able to think about anything... However, she still didn't get out of her surprise when she met the man in her dream... Kevin Davis looked at the reports in her hand and asked, "Is this child mine?" However, Rose didn't answer but asked... "Was that night not a dream?" Kevin was angry because it was his first time and she thinks it was a dream... Kevin forced her to marry him however, Rose didn't want it... She wanted to abort the child but he didn't let her... In the end... Rose agreed to marry him... She looked at Kevin's blue eyes and said, "I will marry you, however, I had two conditions..." "First, after marriage, you can't control my freedom, I still had the right to do whatever I want. Don't worry I won't harm the child." "Second, if I ever found out that you had cheated behind my back then I will leave with my child and you can't stop me..." Both of them got married... However, after she falls in love with him... She found there are hidden secrets in his past...
After three secretive years of marriage, Eliana never met her enigmatic husband until she was served with divorce papers and learned of his extravagant pursuit of another. She snapped back to reality and secured a divorce. Thereafter, Eliana unveiled her various personas: an esteemed doctor, legendary secret agent, master hacker, celebrated designer, adept race car driver, and distinguished scientist. As her diverse talents became known, her ex-husband was consumed by remorse. Desperately, he pleaded, "Eliana, give me another chance! All my properties, even my life, are yours."
After three loveless years, Neil's betrayal deeply wounded Katelyn. She wasted no time in getting rid of that scoundrel! After the divorce, she devoted herself to career pursuits. Rising to prominence as a top designer, skilled doctor, and brilliant hacker, she became a revered icon. Neil, realizing his grave mistake, tried in vain to win her back, only to witness her magnificent wedding to another. As their vows were broadcast on the world's largest billboard, Vincent slid a ring onto Katelyn's finger and declared, "Katelyn is now my wife, a priceless treasure. Let all who covet her beware!"
Life was perfect until she met her boyfriend's big brother. There was a forbidden law in the Night Shade Pack that if the head Alpha rejected his mate, he would be stripped of his position. Sophia's life would get connected with the law. She was an Omega who was dating the head Alpha's younger brother. Bryan Morrison, the head Alpha, was not only a cold-blooded man but also a charming business tycoon. His name was enough to cause other packs to tremble. He was known as a ruthless man. What if, by some twist of destiny, Sophia's path were to intertwine with his?
"Then let's get a divorce!" With courage, Leora left her husband's house, after being accused of poisoning his mistress. Her in-laws and sister-in-law had planned various ways to kick her out of Peter's house and in the end Leora gave in. However, no one expected that things would turn 180 degrees after the divorce. When everyone who had hurt her was happy with each other's lies, Leora returned. This time, she was no longer the poor orphan girl from the orphanage. She has changed and not only that, she also carries a big secret that will make everyone turn to worship her feet.
In her previous life, Kimberly endured the betrayal of her husband, the cruel machinations of an evil woman, and the endless tyranny of her in-laws. It culminated in the bankruptcy of her family, and ultimately, her death. After being reborn, she resolved to seek retribution against those who had wronged her, and ensure her family's prosperity. To her shock, the most unattainable man from her past suddenly set his sights on her. "You may have overlooked me before, but I shall capture your heart this time around."