LOGINHe married me with a signature. He claimed me with a look. And he ruined me with a single touch. Christian Reed doesn’t whisper sweet nothings. He fucks hard. He gives orders. He takes what he wants. And what he wants… is me. Now, I’m wearing his ring. Obeying his rules. Moaning his name in the dark. But the contract didn’t say anything about falling for the man who owns me— Or what happens when he finds out I’ve been keeping secrets.
View MoreCHRISTIAN POV I sat in the front row, knuckles digging into my thighs, every muscle locked. Matthew Davenport stood at the table, recorder in hand, the one Elizabeth slipped him last night after she’d played Harper like a cheap violin. She wasn’t in the building. I’d made her stay home, locked the gates myself, told her if Harper’s eyes even landed on her today I’d lose it. She’d rolled her eyes, kissed me hard, said, “Finish it, Christian.” Then she walked out. That was her being smart. That was her being safe. The judge, a thick-necked man with a buzz cut and zero patience, slammed his gavel. “Play the tape.” Matthew pressed the button. Harper’s voice filled the room, thin, panicked, recorded in his own study. “I did it. We all had a piece of Christian’s mother—Paul, Robert, Rick. Two, three times a week when Paul got bored.” Gasps punched the air. Jurors jerked back. Harper bolted upright, chair screeching across the floor. “That bitch set me up!” I was over the
ELIZABETH POV I got home, my blood pumping from outsmarting Father, his desperate pleas still ringing in my ears. I headed straight to Christian’s study, I pushed the door open, and there he was—lounging in his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, dark hair messy over his eyes, all sharp edges and quiet heat. He looked up, his gaze locking onto mine, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. “Baby,” he said, his voice low, rough, like it could unravel me right there. I moved toward him, my steps slow, my eyes never leaving his. He stood, closing the gap fast, his hands grabbing my waist, pulling me against him with a firm, hungry tug. Before I could speak, he spun me, pinning me gently against the desk, his body close, his hips pressing into mine. His fingers slid under my shirt, grazing the bare skin of my lower back, warm and deliberate, sending a shiver straight through me. “You good?” he murmured, his voice thick, his lips brushing the edge of my jaw, teasing, making
ELIZABETH POV My blood ran cold, my hands clenching so hard my nails dug into my palms. Statutory rape? He’s going to lie about my age to lock Christian up? Fury surged through me, my heart pounding, but I kept my face steady, a mask of calm. “You’re out of your damn mind,” I said, my voice low, sharp, each word like a blade. “I was twenty, not seventeen, and I’m not letting you twist that to hurt him.” His smirk vanished, his eyes darkening with rage. He slammed his fist on the table, the thud shaking the glass of juice, his face twisting red. “You’re protecting that bastard?” he roared, his voice thick with anger, veins bulging in his neck. “After everything he’s done? You’re choosing him over your family?” I leaned forward, my eyes blazing, my voice sharp as a blade. “You didn’t care about choosing money over me when you tried to sell me to that 65-year-old creep,” I shot back, my words dripping with venom, my heart pounding with old pain and fresh fury. Hypocrite
ELIZABETH POV My blood ran cold, my hands clenching so hard my nails dug into my palms. Statutory rape? He’s going to lie about my age to lock Christian up? Fury surged through me, my heart pounding, but I kept my face steady, a mask of calm. “You’re out of your damn mind,” I said, my voice low, sharp, each word like a blade. “I was twenty, not seventeen, and I’m not letting you twist that to hurt him.” His smirk vanished, his eyes darkening with rage. He slammed his fist on the table, the thud shaking the glass of juice, his face twisting red. “You’re protecting that bastard?” he roared, his voice thick with anger, veins bulging in his neck. “After everything he’s done? You’re choosing him over your family?” I leaned forward, my eyes blazing, my voice sharp as a blade. “You didn’t care about choosing money over me when you tried to sell me to that 65-year-old creep,” I shot back, my words dripping with venom, my heart pounding with old pain and fresh fury. Hypocrite












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