Novels by Black sweet

~ Avelyn ~ The next thing I knew my back was against the wall of the suite. Xander’s pressure against me was immediate and total, his lips claiming mine with the kind of certainty that left no room for hesitation, not that I had any. His mouth moved like he’d been thinking about this through every course of that dinner, every loaded glance, every second of that insufferable composure he’d worn like a weapon all evening.I kissed him back with everything I had. Not that I had much of anything right now. I couldn’t with his scent knocking out my reasoning. His hands found my waist and wrapped it, found my jaw and gripped it, found my hair and filled his palm with a fistful. He was moving like he couldn’t decide where to settle and had chosen everywhere simultaneously and I felt the wall solid behind me and him solid in front of me and the combination of both was making it very difficult to remember that I was a person with thoughts.“Xander—”“Don’t.” His voice was low against my mou

~ Avelyn ~I stared at the sky. At the ring. At him. Xander Sterling on one knee with an expression that had shed every layer of composure and was simply, entirely open in a way I had never seen from him before and might never see again.“I know what we’ve been,” he said, quietly. “I know what I was. What I put you through.” His eyes didn’t leave mine. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking you to let me spend the rest of my life making it right.” A breath. “You and Ciara. That’s all I want. That’s everything.”The city hummed below us. The drones held their formation. The candles moved in some invisible current of air.I nodded.I was aware I was nodding with a frequency and enthusiasm that was not entirely dignified but I could not locate my words so nodding was what was available to me and I committed to it fully.Something moved across his face. Relief, maybe, or the particular expression of a man who’d been holding his breath for longer than he’d admitted to himself. He too

~ Avelyn ~I didn’t know what Xander was planning this time. But I knew it was deliberate on his part. I’d asked twice and received the same response both time. A look that communicated that the question had been heard and would not be answered so I’d stopped asking and spent the better part of the week in a state of low-grade anticipation that I refused to call nerves.It was nerves.The women arrived at four.Three of them, professional and efficient, with more equipment than I owned in my entire bathroom. They set up in my bedroom with the quiet competence of people who did this regularly and knew better than to ask unnecessary questions, and then they got to work.I sat in the chair they’d positioned by the window and let them.That was the strangest part. Normally I’d have something to say, some observation, some deflection, something to fill the space. But I sat quietly while hands moved through my hair and someone else opened a case of jewellery and a third laid out a dress o

~ Avelyn ~Shopping with Xander was an experience I was wholly unprepared for.It wasn’t that he was difficult. It was that he was thorough. Every aisle, every option, considered with the same focused attention he’d given Ciara an hour ago. He picked things up, examined them, made decisions with the quiet efficiency of a man who was accustomed to being right.He also kept putting things in the cart that I hadn’t asked for and then moving on before I could object, which was a technique I recognised and deeply resented.“She doesn’t need that,” I said, for approximately the fifth time.“She might.”“She’s not going to need a cashmere blanket, Xander.”“You don’t know that.” He defended“She’s going to spit up on it within forty minutes of—”“Then we’ll get another one.” He placed it in the cart and moved on and I stood there for a second before following, because that was the only available option.But there were also moments, small ones — where he’d stop and hold something up and lo

~ Avelyn ~I heard the cars before I saw them.That should have been my first warning.I’d just picked Ciara up from daycare, a decision I was still adjusting to, the particular guilt of leaving a seven month old with strangers because her mother had been spending her mornings standing outside a billionaire’s gate like a woman with nothing better to do and we’d barely been home twenty minutes when I heard the sound of multiple engines pulling onto my street.I went to the window.There were three black cars parked outside my house. And emerging from them, with the kind of coordinated efficiency that suggested military training or very generous tips, were men in suits carrying roses.Not a bouquet.Roses, plural. Dozens of them. Stem after stem after stem, deep red and perfect, filling my small front path like a garden had relocated itself overnight.I stood at the window with Ciara on my hip and watched and said nothing for a long moment.Of course. Of course he did.Xander stepped ou

— Xander —She was still here.I’d told her to wait for the rain. A practical reason. Temporary. The kind of thing that meant nothing and I needed it to mean nothing, so I stepped back from the door and from her and put the appropriate distance between us and became myself again.“Wait for it to pass.” I kept my back to her. Easier that way. “Then go.” A pause. “Don’t come back to the house. Don’t send letters to the gate. Don’t stop by the office.”Silence.I had expected argument. That was Avelyn’s native language with me, push, parry, challenge. What I hadn’t expected was the quality of the silence she gave me instead. Heavy and considering.“That’s it.” Her voice was quiet. Almost to herself.“Yes.”“A week.” I could hear her moving, not toward the door, toward me. “A whole week and that’s what you give me. A list of instructions and a wait for the rain.”“It’s straightforward enough.”“It’s nothing.” The word came out with more force than the ones before it. “You know what you

~ Scarlett ~Morning in Nikolai’s estate arrived with the quiet, suffocating precision of a gilded prison.I sat at the small bistro table near the French doors of my bedroom, a silver tray of fresh pastries and black coffee untouched before me. Out in the courtyard, three armed guards paced the stone perimeter, their heavy boots crunching rhythmically against the gravel.My wrist still throbbed faintly from where the biometric sensor had been strapped the night before.I only need to fool you.The words I had spat directly into Nikolai’s mouth during the interrogation drill still burned on my tongue. Why did I even say that?What if he caught on my escape plan? Ugh! I’m losing it here. Fine, I just need to play along for some time. If Nikolai thought he was conditioning a captive into his personal weapon. He had no idea that every indignity, every drill, and every flex of his control was just fuel for my escape. Three weeks until the Supreme Council Gala. Three weeks to learn his

~ Scarlett ~The east wing salon had been stripped of its soft furnishings, leaving only a high-backed wooden chair in the center of the parquet floor and a discreet biometric sensor strapped around my left wrist."In our world, an amateur lies with her tongue," Madame Vane said, pacing a slow circle around my chair, her heels clicking like the ticking seconds of a bomb. "A master lies with her pulse, her pupils, and the micro-twitches of her jaw. If a cartel boss asks if you know about his smuggled shipments, and your heart rate jumps by five beats a minute, you have signed your own death warrant."A sleek digital monitor sat on a side table, displaying my real-time vitals:Pulse: 72 bpm. Respirations: 14/min."Your goal is simple," Madame Vane instructed. "Maintain absolute flatline composure while I strip away your dignity. If your pulse exceeds eighty, we restart."For two grueling hours, she pelted me with humiliating, intrusive questions about my family's ruin, my mother’s fai

~ Scarlett ~The shadow at the end of the hedge maze shifted, and out stepped a woman who looked like she had been sculpted from marble and ice.She wore a sharply tailored charcoal suit that clung to her commanding frame, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into an immaculate, razor-tight chignon. Her eyes—a pale, translucent blue swept over the scene with the cold precision of a hawk evaluating prey."She has the eyes of a creature that bites back," the woman observed, her voice smooth, deep, and devoid of warmth. She stopped beside Nikolai, taking in my disheveled hair, my bare ankles, and the maid's uniform clinging to my chest. “Good. Soft women die in our world within forty-eight hours."Nikolai didn't look at her. His gaze remained pinned to mine, his fingers slowly relaxing as he stepped back, giving me a fraction of breathing room. The absence of his oppressive heat made the morning air feel suddenly frigid."Scarlett, meet Madame Vane," Nikolai said smoothly, adjusting t

~ Scarlett ~I stared at the leather folder resting on the bedside table in the early hours of the morning.Personal Service Contract.He had given me until tonight to read it, to sign my freedom away. But I didn't need to read it. I already knew what it was: a prison cell.My chest tightened as panic pressed against my ribs like a physical weight. My mother was still lying in that hospital room, completely helpless. I didn’t even get to see her one last time before my uncle Richard sold me to an auction block without blinking.It would take him five seconds to pull the plug on her life support the moment he realized she was no longer useful leverage. And Nikolai... Nikolai wasn't a savior. He was a shadow from my past turned into a ruthless tyrant, driven by a dark desire to destroy me. Not like there was much left to destroy.A bitter smile tugged my lips. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't sign. I had to get out, reach a public phone, and call Julian. He was probably tearing the c

— Nikolai De Santis —The door clicked shut, severing the air in the room like a blade.I sat still in the dark, the faint lingering scent of her—sweet, floral, mixed with the iron tang of dried blood hanging heavily in the quiet space. My fingers clamped down on the crystal glass until the glass creaked under the pressure, the amber liquid inside sloshing violently.One hundred million dollars.It was a drop in the ocean for a De Santis, but every single cent had been worth the sight of her sitting on that cold marble stage.My jaw clenched so hard a sharp pain radiated down my neck. The memory of her on that block dressed in translucent blue chiffon like some prize for rich, disgusting bastards to drool over sent a wave of sickening, violent fury roaring through my veins. The moment I had received the leak from my contacts in the underground auction that she was being offered as debt payment, my world had stopped.I hadn't just driven to that amphitheater. I had torn through the

~ Scarlett ~A thick silk blindfold swallowed my vision, turning the world into an endless, suffocating black.The ride was dead silent, save for the hum of a heavy engine and the faint smell of polished leather and sharp mint filling the back seat. Two silent guards sat on either side of me, their presence looming like stone walls. I didn't bother begging. I didn't waste my breath asking where they were taking me. My jaw was set, blood long dried at the corner of my mouth, my heart hammering a steady, furious rhythm against my ribs.When the car finally rolled to a stop, cold hands guided me out, up a flight of stone steps, and through heavy double doors. The air shifted instantly—cool, expansive, and smelling faintly of cedar and expensive cologne."Leave her," a smooth voice ordered from somewhere ahead.The blindfold was snatched away.I blinked against the soft ambient light, my vision adjusting to a soaring, grand foyer wrapped in dark marble and floor-to-ceiling glass that ov