Novels by Tyrandria

CHAPTER SIX—Duncan—I’ve spent my life mastering control.Of people. Of money. Of my name.And yet, here I am—haunted, sleepless, and gripping a phone like it might start whispering truths if I hold it tight enough.Aphrodite: I’m fine. Just need to rest. I’ll see you soon.Three hours ago. Still nothing since.The message is clean. Polished. Void of emotion.That’s what rattles me.Because the woman I held last night—the one who trembled beneath my mouth, cried out my name, curled her fingers into my chest like she didn’t want to be anywhere else—that woman didn’t say goodbye with a cold line of text.No. Something’s off.And I can’t stand it.I’ve dealt with women who’ve tried to play me before. Models. Actresses. Heiresses who thought their last name came with power. I saw through every one of them. Stripped them down to their ambition and left them craving what they couldn’t keep.But Aphrodite Sivan?She doesn’t crave anything.She makes me crave her.And I don’t know how the fu

CHAPTER FIVE—Aphrodite—Dawn kisses the sheets with the softest light.And I hate it.Not because it’s morning, not because I didn’t sleep—though I didn’t.I hate it because it reveals everything. It touches Duncan’s face with a gentleness I don’t deserve. It softens the edges of the room, the air, the illusion I’ve spent the night crafting.It makes this look real.But it isn’t.He’s still asleep beside me. One arm sprawled over my waist, his body curled against mine like I’m safe, like I belong to him. I don’t. Not really. His body is warm, the scent of sex and sweat still clinging to us, but none of it sinks into my bones.Because something else is still there.Still inside me.Still watching.I ease out of bed silently, Duncan’s arm falling to the mattress with a soft thud. I move like a ghost—because that’s what I’ve become in this space. In his world. A beautiful haunting. A lie in silk.The bathroom mirror doesn’t lie.Not like I do.My reflection hits me hard. My eyes are rim

CHAPTER FOUR—Aphrodite—The knock comes fifteen minutes after I send the text.I don’t answer right away.I let him wait—just long enough to make him need me more. That’s part of the game. A second of silence that feels like rejection. I know what it does to a man like Duncan Moretti. It makes him ache.I smooth down the robe around my thighs. My skin is still flushed. Marked. Used.He can’t know.I check the mirror once, swipe a berry tint over my lips, brush my fingers under my eyes to smudge away the ghost of tears. I can still feel the bruising grip on my hips. The soreness between my thighs. The bite on my shoulder, hidden beneath silk.I don’t wear perfume tonight.Let him breathe in the truth and think it’s him.Another knock. Sharper this time.I open the door.And there he is.Tall, dark, dangerously clean-cut in a slate grey coat. His jaw clenches the moment he sees me. Those eyes—sharp enough to flay. Hungry enough to devour. He steps inside like he owns the air I’m breath

CHAPTER THREE—Aphrodite—He doesn’t knock.He never knocks.The moment I step into my penthouse, I already know he’s inside. The lights are off, but he doesn’t need them. Shadows are his territory. Silence is his announcement.I don’t speak. I don’t breathe too loudly. I just wait.And then, like gravity shifts around me, I feel him.His presence, vast and unrelenting, sweeps through the room like smoke. It curls into my lungs, wraps around my ribs, presses down on my skin. He’s always been like this—more force than man. He doesn’t need to touch me to make me feel owned. He doesn’t need to say a word to command my body.But tonight, he speaks.“Strip.”One word. No inflection. No room for negotiation.I obey.My coat slips from my shoulders. My heels come off one at a time. I reach behind me and unzip my dress slowly, letting the satin fall. It pools at my feet, whispering against the marble.I’m left standing in nothing but the delicate scrap of lace between my legs and the tension

CHAPTER TWO—Duncan—The city lights spilled into my penthouse like liquid gold, casting long shadows that stretched and twisted with the rhythm of the night. Yet, no glow or glitter could match the fire burning inside me—the fire that Aphrodite ignited every time she stepped into my world.She was unlike any woman I’d ever known. More than just a name, more than just beauty—she was an enigma wrapped in silk and temptation, a goddess whose body and mind were locked in a struggle I couldn’t begin to understand.The first time she came back to me that night, it was like a storm breaking through a fragile calm. The door opened, and she was there—bold, fierce, irresistible. Her dress hugged her every curve like it was painted on, black silk shimmering in the dim light, falling just enough to tease and reveal. Her eyes held a fire that matched the wild hunger in mine, but behind that blaze, I caught a flicker of something else. Something darker. A shadow that didn’t belong to the goddess e

CHAPTER ONE—Aphrodite—They don’t worship gods anymore.They worship me.Not for talent. Not for genius. Not for anything earned.Just this body. This face. This perfect illusion.I walk into the gala, and the room stills—like it always does. Eyes widen, lips part, hands twitch toward phones they try to pretend aren’t already recording me. A million-dollar dress clings to my curves like it was painted on, black silk dipping scandalously low between my breasts and high enough on my thigh to tempt scandal.I'm not famous for anything but being wanted.But that’s enough in this world. That’s everything.“Aphrodite,” someone gasps as I pass. A whisper, a prayer.I smile.That name was a prophecy the moment it was inked onto my birth certificate. And I made damn sure it came true.Men don’t see me. They crave me. I don’t walk—I glide. I don’t speak—I seduce. Even when I’m silent.I don't need to act. I don't need to sing. My body is my performance.I fucked my way into the role they said