Novels by constanceajuebon3

Leora didn't sleep that night.Her brother's visit had stirred something deep inside her, a guilt she thought she'd buried and a fear she couldn't quite name. Even wrapped in the warmth of her silk sheets and surrounded by velvet walls, she couldn’t shake the echo of his warning:“Get out while you can.”But where would she go?She had bartered her freedom for a contract sealed in silence. A contract with Don Allerick Moretti, the man her father feared and the world whispered about.She had signed her soul away, but at least it was hers to give.The next morning, the house was unusually quiet. That was how she knew something was wrong.She dressed quickly and descended the marble staircase. The staff avoided her gaze, their lips tight with unspoken tension. Maren wasn't at her usual post, and even Jalen was absent from the hall.Leora's gut twisted. She headed straight for Allerick’s wing.When she burst through the study doors, she found him surrounded by a half-circle of men,clieute

Leora’s fingers trembled as she poured herself a glass of water. It had been two days since the anonymous phone call, and still, she hadn’t told Allerick.She didn’t know why.No....she did. She didn’t want to appear weak. Vulnerable. Needing him.Because needing anyone had always come at a cost.She stood by the window in the drawing room, staring out at the cold expanse of the garden. The hedges were perfectly trimmed, the fountains frozen mid-spill. Everything in the Allerick estate was precise, calculated—just like its master.She could feel his presence before he entered the room.“I don’t like people hovering by my windows,” Allerick said behind her.She turned. “And I don’t like people lurking like ghosts.”He raised a brow. “Are we trading insults now?”“Would you prefer silence?”“No,” he said. “That’s more dangerous.”She took a sip of water and studied him. Today, he wore a tailored charcoal vest over a black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the lean strength in

Leora had barely slept.Despite the room’s calm exterior, her thoughts were loud, restless. The faint creak of floorboards above. The cold hush of unfamiliar silence. It all kept her tethered to consciousness until the sun pushed hesitantly through the curtains.This was no longer her home.And yet, in some twisted way, it was her only haven.She stood at the vanity, brushing her tangled hair with hands that refused to steady. Her reflection looked back, pale, stubborn, and unsure.A knock came at the door. Three sharp raps.She opened it to find a young woman, no older than twenty-two, dressed in black slacks and a pressed white blouse. Her blonde hair was tied in a tight bun, and her expression was unreadable.“I’m Maren,” she said. “Mr. Allerick assigned me to you. I’ll assist with your daily needs.”Leora blinked. “Like a... maid?”“More like a shadow,” Maren replied flatly. “Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. The boss expects you there.”Boss. Not husband. Not Don. Just... the boss

The fire crackled softly behind Leora, but the warmth did little to thaw the tension in the room.Don Allerick sat still, his expression unreadable as his fingers drummed slowly against the armrest of his wheelchair. The silence stretched, taut and dangerous.Leora stood across from him, spine straight despite the storm inside her chest. She had walked into the den of the man her father had tried to destroy. Now, she was offering herself to him.“You do realize what you’re proposing, don’t you?” Don Allerick asked at last, his voice low and deliberate. “A contract marriage with me, a man your father would gladly see buried.”“I know exactly what I’m offering,” Leora replied. “And I know the risks.”His gray eyes lingered on her face, as if trying to peel away her layers. “Why me?”“Because you’re the only one he won’t touch,” she said. “The only one he fears.”A smirk tugged at the corner of Allerick’s mouth. “Flattery won’t get you far, sweetheart.”“It’s not flattery,” she said. “It

The pearls around Leora Valencia's neck felt like chains, cold, suffocating, and inescapable.She sat on the edge of the velvet-cushioned chair in her father’s expansive study, surrounded by mahogany shelves filled with ancient books and gold-framed portraits of dead men with lifeless eyes. The air reeked of cigar smoke and old power, a combination that always made her throat itch.Across from her, Franklin Valencia, her father and the most feared underworld magnate in the southern bloc, stood with a glass of brandy in one hand and her future in the other.“You will marry Adam Luciano,” he declared, voice like cracked ice.Leora’s fingers tightened around the armrest. Her heart had been hammering since he summoned her with no explanation, and now the reason stood before her, tall, cruel, and wrapped in an expensive suit. “He’s twice my age,” she said softly.“And twice as important,” Franklin replied without looking at her. He tilted his glass and took a slow sip, his gaze drifting ou