Novels by Christyprixate

The door had barely stopped echoing when Lucien’s absence settled into the room like a weight.Maya didn’t move.Her fingers remained locked around the edge of the desk, knuckles pale, breath uneven as it struggled to find rhythm again. The silence pressed in, thicker now, heavier than before—no longer fragile, but suffocating.Too close.The words repeated in her mind like a warning bell she couldn’t silence.Too close.She forced herself to straighten, slowly releasing the desk as if letting go too quickly might shatter whatever composure she had left. Her heart was still racing, every beat loud and insistent, echoing the realization she could no longer avoid.Lucien was no longer just suspicious.He was watching.Closely.Carefully.And next time, he wouldn’t be interrupted.Maya swallowed, her throat dry. She needed to think. Needed to steady herself before fear took over

The echo of her laughter did not belong in Lucien Moretti’s office.It lingered anyway.For a moment longer than it should have, the sound clung to the polished wood, the glass, the quiet hum of power that usually defined the room. Maya felt it as keenly as he did—the way it disrupted something carefully controlled, something rigid.Her fingers hovered over the tray before settling against its edge.She shouldn’t have laughed.Not like that. Not here.Slowly, she lifted her gaze.Lucien was watching her.Not with the cold detachment she had grown used to, not with the sharp, cutting scrutiny that made her feel like a problem to be solved. This was different. Still intense. Still unreadable. But there was a pause in it now—as if he had not yet decided what to make of her.The silence stretched between them.Maya shifted slightly, the small movement sounding louder than it should in the stillness

The mansion was unusually still that evening, the kind of silence that wrapped itself around the walls and pressed in on anyone moving through it. Lucien’s office hummed with the quiet energy of work left unattended — a stack of reports, a glowing computer screen, and the lingering heat of the sun filtering through the tall windows.Maya had been moving through the corridors, her steps soft but purposeful, carrying a small tray of tea she had prepared herself. The scent of chamomile and lemon was subtle, but it reached Lucien even before she entered the room. He had been buried in a spreadsheet, numbers swimming under his eyes, but he paused, glancing up at the sound.She stepped inside, careful, offering the tray with a tentative smile.“Tea,” she said quietly, voice almost swallowed by the quiet. “I thought you might need a—”“You thought correctly,” Lucien interrupted, voice clipped but not unkind. He gestured toward the table beside him. “Plac

As Maya placed the small basket of groceries on the counter, careful not to let the clatter betray the tension coiled tight in her chest. Her mind kept replaying the memory she had tried to bury: Georgia, the deliberate tilt of her hand, the vial slipping into Lucien’s drink that night at the party. The plan had been flawless — until Maya had intervened.Maya had thought it would end there, in a blur of dizzy confusion and stolen moments. But she had carried Lucien to his room, had steadied him when the drug’s effects took hold, and in doing so, she had disrupted Georgia’s carefully crafted scheme. And now… now Lucien was married to her, unaware of just how narrowly he had been ensnared, and carrying a child that was the living proof of that night.She moved through the kitchen, hands still trembling slightly. The memories weren’t just unpleasant; they were a warning. Georgia was not done. She never would be. And this time, the stakes were higher. It wasn’t just L

Maya’s hands shook slightly as she walked back to the mansion, the smell of fresh bread and roasted coffee lingering faintly in the cool afternoon air. She had barely processed the encounter with Georgia — that sudden, staged meeting that had left her heart hammering and her confidence in pieces.It wasn’t that Georgia had attacked her outright. No, it had been far more insidious than that. The socialite had smiled, spoken softly, and dropped hints like poisoned breadcrumbs, leaving Maya to follow them into the pit of her own unease.The memory of Georgia’s eyes, sharp and glinting with something unreadable, haunted her.“You’re doing well for yourself,” Georgia had said in the market, almost casual, almost friendly, but with an edge that had made Maya freeze mid-step. “I can see he’s… taken with you. Must be thrilling, isn’t it? To think you’ve secured a place where no one expected you to?”Maya had forced a polite smile, nodding stiffly. “I… I’m

The city was alive with noise, the kind of restless energy that made Maya feel small and exposed. Cars honked impatiently, shop doors swung open to reveal bright displays, and the chatter of pedestrians carried through the morning air. She pulled her coat tighter around her, tucking her scarf up under her chin, and tried to navigate the crowd without drawing attention.After weeks confined to the mansion, every outing felt like stepping into a gauntlet. Her errands were quick, calculated — a stop at the bakery, the florist, and a small boutique to pick up a few necessities. Each step was measured, eyes darting just enough to avoid lingering attention.But fate, it seemed, had a way of bending even the most careful plans.A familiar, sharp voice cut through the hum of the city, smooth and commanding, yet threaded with something dangerous.“Maya Santoro,” the voice purred, almost as if savoring her name.Maya froze. Her body went rigid, ins