Novels by GYLE MANN

Benita walked into the room with her head held high.Whatever happened tonight, she would endure it for the greater good. For her father’s company.The room swallowed sound. Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the kind that pressed against your chest and demanded submission. This was a room built for power, for ownership. A place that existed to remind you that money ruled here and tonight, she was the currency. Crystal lights hung from a polished black marble ceiling, cold and blinding. There were no windows. No clocks. Time didn’t exist in this room. Only value did.Rafe called it an auction.But everyone else knew better.Benita watched as he called the men to order. They took their seats behind tinted panels, identified only by names and numbers. Old families. New empires. Men whose money bent governments and erased consequences.All of them were here for her.She stepped forward and stood at the center of the room.Rafe had labeled her “ Lot Two”.A small, desperate part of

Three months had passed, yet Benita’s father had not shown a single sign of recovery. He remained alive only because machines willed it so—tubes, monitors, artificial breaths. A man suspended between worlds.The company was no better.Benita had tried everything, meetings, negotiations, silent deals, anything to keep McCracken Industrials afloat before it completely plummeted. She worked day and night to ensure the media stayed blind to the situation. One leak, on social media, and the stocks would crash beyond repair.She had even reached out to Blackwell Holdings.Surely, if Damien could be brought into an understanding, it could stabilize things. But every attempt failed. No calls returned. No responses. Maybe he hadn’t come back from Paris.Paris.She paused while fastening her earrings, a small smile touching her lips despite everything. She had left without a goodbye, without explanations but the memory of that night had carried her through dark days. Damien had been a good love

What did you say?” The words barely left her lips. it's as if the air had been stolen from her lungs.“I… I didn’t know what happened, I swear… I just found him on the floor… I…” Rafe stammered, incoherent.“Calm down, Rafe. Calm down. What did you say happened to Father?” Her mind raced, terror clawing at her.“It was Father. I came back from work and… he’d fell and collapsed.”Benita jumped out of bed, gown clutched in one hand, bag and shoes in the other. “Where are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling with fear.“At the hospital. The doctors are already attending to him,” Rafe replied, his voice cracking. “I… I’m so sorry. I failed to look after him.”“I’m on my way.” She hung up before he could protest further.She slipped out of Damien’s hotel room, heart hammering, and returned to her own room to gather her belongings. Her mind was a whirlwind of guilt and regret. She shouldn’t have left. She shouldn’t have gone on this vacation for even a second.She bumped into someone in

The kiss sent shock after shock through her entire being. She almost buckled but he grabbed her by the waist, holding her closer.The kiss was hot, urgent, as though he needed her lips to breathe, to survive. The pressure of his mouth against hers stole the air from her lungs. She whimpered softly, fingers curling into his shirt as she pulled him closer. He responded instantly, as if that small gesture was all the permission he needed.When he finally pulled back, he looked at her with eyes darkened by desire, desire she believe she had caused.“My hotel is very close to here,” he said.All she could do was nod.He hailed a cab, and when she tried to protest, he gave her a crooked smile. “Are you sure you can make it to the car? Because I can’t.”Her cheeks burned as she realized exactly what he meant. Her legs were still shaking from the kiss. He opened the door for her, then slid in beside her.“La Bourdonnais, please,” he told the driver.She smiled to herself. The same hotel she w

Benita woke up late that night, the unfamiliar quiet of the hotel room momentarily disorienting her. Paris hummed softly outside her window, alive even after dark. Sitting up, she stretched, then smiled to herself.Tonight was hers.She dressed slowly, thoughtfully, mapping out how she wanted to walk through the city. where to go, what to see, how to let the city swallow her whole. But first, she needed a drink. Or two.The moment she stepped into the disco club, music washed over her in pulsing waves. Lights flashed. Laughter echoed. She made her way toward the bar, and then she saw him.Damien Blackwell.He sat there like a sin Paris had crafted by hand. Rough. Influential. Dangerous in a way that made her pulse stutter. His dark hair was slightly ruffled, as if fingers had run through it one too many times. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing a tattoo on his wrist, subtle, masculine and hypnotic.Her mind betrayed her with images she didn’t ask for.She slipped off her coat, foldi

Paris had a way of doing that, pulling at the heart, whispering promises of love and longing beneath its glittering lights. It wanted you to fall in love. To be loved. And for Benita McCracken, Paris would become the place where she did both, with the most unexpected man. Benita had wanted to stay back. She had insisted on it, actually. The company had just secured a project worth fifty billion dollars, and walking away now felt reckless. She wanted to oversee everything, ensure the foundation was solid before anyone celebrated. But her father hadn’t listened. He had summoned her to his office that morning, his voice warm with pride even before she stepped inside. “Benny, you made this possible…again,” he said, smiling as he rose from his chair. The pride on his face was unmistakable. “Dad, we made it possible,” Benita replied. “McCracken Industrials wouldn’t have won without your contribution as the owner.” “Take the credit, child,” he said, pulling her into a firm, fatherly h