The hottest man I've ever seen is now my new boss- and I'm stuck in a house with him... Until one of us cracks. I've got debt-yeah, I know, so does everyone else on Planet Earth. But the bills I'm paying keep my dad and my grandma alive. So it's pretty messed-up for Timofey Viktorov to use them as a threat to keep me under control. Not that he cares. As a billionaire CEO, he takes no prisoners in the boardroom. And as the don of the Viktorov Bratva, he takes no prisoners in real life, either. Which is why he has no qualms about extorting me into taking his deal. Live in my mansion... Care for my baby... Or suffer the consequences. But he's not the only one with an agenda. Timofey has skeletons in his closet-and I'm determined to dig them out. He's just as determined to keep me far away from the secrets of his past. The longer I'm in his house, the tenser things get. Every time we brush past each other in the hallway, something sparks. Every time we cross paths in the night, the ice grows thinner. Sooner or later, it's going to crack.
Piper
Thunder rumbles through the ground under my tired feet the moment I step out of work. If I wasn't so sick of hearing my own voice, I'd laugh. Or maniacally cackle. Whichever would more clearly denote that I am losing my ever-loving mind.
The world seems to agree, via brooding cinematic ambiance, that today sucks. A flash of lightning? The patter of raindrops turning into a steady downpour? Sure, why not? All the better to wash away the last of the day's hopes and dreams.
I lean out from under the threadbare awning and glance up at the dark sky. I'm not sure what I expect to see. Maybe a countdown clock in the clouds. Some sign of when the rain will end and I can resume my miserable life.
There's nothing, of course.
Thick clouds cover the waning moon and the streetlight outside the downtown Child Protective Services office is still burnt out, so it's eerily dark. I registered a complaint with the city four months ago, but the person in charge of replacing lights is probably as overworked as I am.
Still, all of that means it's dark outside.
"Like my soul," I quip quietly to myself.
Apparently, my week from hell hasn't stolen all of my wonderful qualities. My self-deprecating sense of humor is fully intact.
That being said, the guardian I dealt with today wouldn't find my joke especially funny. He'd probably call it accurate, actually.
Dark soul? More like a stone-cold bitch.
That's the thing about working for CPS: you're the face people associate with their child being ripped out of their arms.
It doesn't matter that the face of the child in question is filthy, scrawny, and covered in unexplained bruises.
It doesn't matter that the arms of the parent in question are studded with track marks from dirty needles.
They still think you're the bad guy.
Or, to quote yesterday's gem of a birth parent, a "raging bitch with shit for a heart and a bear trap for a coochie." As far as things go, that one was pretty good. I rated it a ten out of ten for creativity and submitted it to the office-wide "Best Insults" email thread.
"You should add that line to your dating profile," my boss, James, responded with a crying-laughing emoji.
What dating profile?I wanted to respond. But at some point, the self-deprecating humor isn't funny... or a joke, even.
I deleted my dating apps months ago, only a few weeks after downloading them post-break up. Hence why I am standing on the doorstep of work trying to muster the courage to ride my bike home in the dark. In a rainstorm.
Because there is no one else to call.
I don't have a boyfriend waiting for me at home anymore, Noelle is working tonight, and Ashley's car is the most compact of compacts. She went on a "save the world" kick last year when she got out of rehab and bought a used Smart Car online. Even if she were available, I'd rather ride home in the rain than jam myself into that death trap.
When the claustrophobia starts, it lasts for hours.
"Okay, Pipe," I say to myself, hopping lightly from one foot to the other to psych myself up. "Here we go. Make it home and you can take a shower and put on your pajamas and eat that frozen stuffed crust pizza in the freezer."
And die alone.
I groan at my own intrusive joke and shake out my shoulders. "It's just a ten-minute ride. Then this day will be over and you can relax. Ready, set-"
To try and trick my own brain, I skip "go" and leap out into the rain.
I'm glad I didn't bother with a hat or the cute-but-useless rain jacket I keep in the bottom drawer of my desk for occasions like this. Because this is a soaking rain. The kind that drenches you through and through the moment you step into it.
There is no protection from this.
I keep my eyes down at the ground as I run, making sure I don't trip on the uneven pavement or slip in a giant puddle. Looking around is pointless, anyway-no one is out in this deluge. Even if they were, I wouldn't be able to see them. Every time I lift my head, the rain blurs what little of my vision the dark hasn't already stolen.
I round the corner into the alley next to our building. There's a dingy orange security light attached halfway up the brick facade, but it doesn't offer light so much as a strong sense that I've stumbled into the apocalypse.
I kneel down in an orange puddle to unlock my bike.
"If I'd known it was going to rain, I would have carried you up the stairs," I say.
If maniacal laughter wasn't already a clue that I'm losing my mind, talking to my bike surely is. I fumble with the lock chain in the dark. My fingers are slippery from all the water, and when they slip and I accidentally bend a fingernail all the way back, I want to curl up in a ball and cry right then and there.
Shower. Pajamas. Pizza.
I repeat my evening plans like a mantra as I finally pop the lock free, loop it around the base of the sopping wet seat, and tug my bike away from the rack.
Then the world tips sideways.
Correction:someone tips my world sideways.
For a second, the hands around my throat blend in with the pounding rain. My brain is overloaded with things to notice, so when I'm yanked to my left and thrown unceremoniously into the garbage-filled stream of dirty water running down the alleyway, I'm confused.
"What the-"
"You fuckingcunt," a deep voice hisses.
That was definitely not the wind. Or the rain.
Panic lashes through me. Someone fists the wet material of my shirt and hauls me to my feet like I'm a sack of potatoes. I look back over my shoulder, but rain is pouring down my face and the man is backlit by the orange safety light.
So much for safety-I can't see shit.
I try to scream, but the man slams me against the brick wall. The air in my lungs leaves me in a whoosh.
"Not so tough now, eh?" He pins me in, crowding so close that he blocks some of the rain.
And for the first time, I get a good look at my attacker.
"I know you," I wheezed. "I-I-"
"You-you-," he mimics, his voice going unnaturally high. Then he lets out a deep, bitter laugh that isn't mirthful in the slightest. "You took my kid away from me."
Tom Thomas never thought he'd fall in love with the only girl he's ever befriended. Mira Tomic has issues with commitment after the ultimate betrayal. When Mira decides to make broody Tom's day better, she never thought she would end up friends with the hard man. Tom has never had a woman be so affectionate to him without expecting something in return. Tom and Mira cordially invite you to read Just Friends. A story of friendship, humour and love.
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
For ten years, Daniela showered her ex-husband with unwavering devotion, only to discover she was just his biggest joke. Feeling humiliated yet determined, she finally divorced him. Three months later, Daniela returned in grand style. She was now the hidden CEO of a leading brand, a sought-after designer, and a wealthy mining mogul—her success unveiled at her triumphant comeback. Her ex-husband’s entire family rushed over, desperate to beg for forgiveness and plead for another chance. Yet Daniela, now cherished by the famed Mr. Phillips, regarded them with icy disdain. "I’m out of your league."
Desperate to handle her grandmother's towering medical bills, Gianna agreed to a contract marriage with Tristan, the enigmatic man she'd once shared a one-night stand with. She assumed they'd fulfill each other's needs and dissolve the arrangement once the terms expired. Unbeknownst to Gianna, this marriage was a dream Tristan had clung to for ten relentless years. Certain she was just filling someone else's role, Gianna prepared to leave when that other woman returned. But Tristan, his eyes burning with unspoken emotion, seized her trembling hand and declared, "You’re mine. Now and always."
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
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 – 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?
Dear readers, this book has resumed daily updates. It took Sabrina three whole years to realize that her husband, Tyrone didn't have a heart. He was the coldest and most indifferent man she had ever met. He never smiled at her, let alone treated her like his wife. To make matters worse, the return of the woman he had eyes for brought Sabrina nothing but divorce papers. Sabrina's heart broke. Hoping that there was still a chance for them to work on their marriage, she asked, "Quick question,Tyrone. Would you still divorce me if I told you that I was pregnant?" "Absolutely!" he responded. Realizing that she didn't mean shit to him, Sabrina decided to let go. She signed the divorce agreement while lying on her sickbed with a broken heart. Surprisingly, that wasn't the end for the couple. It was as if scales fell off Tyrone's eyes after she signed the divorce agreement. The once so heartless man groveled at her bedside and pleaded, "Sabrina, I made a big mistake. Please don't divorce me. I promise to change." Sabrina smiled weakly, not knowing what to do...