LOGIN“We’re friends,” I said, voice barely steady. Aaron’s lips curled, slow and cruel. “No, we’re not.” “Friendship’s too pure for this.” His hand slid to my waist, hot and claiming as he yanked me flush against him. “Do friends kiss like this?” He kissed me. Hard. Possessive. “Or grab each other like this?” A squeeze to my ass. A gasp. “Or think filthy little thoughts?” His breath burned against my ear. “Touch themselves to it?” My cheeks flamed. My body betrayed me. “Stop lying, Venus.” His voice was a growl. “I feel it. Every time I’m near you.” I whispered, “But you don’t even like me.” His smile was pure sin. “I don’t have to like you to fuck you.” Then the offer: “Let’s get it out of our system. No lies. No strings. Just truth.” He grabbed my chin, eyes lit with hunger. “Say the word, princess.” A whisper against my lips— “I’ll ruin you.” And God help me… I wanted him to. --------- Aaron Sinclair needs a bride to claim his inheritance. Venus Astor needs a miracle to save her dying mother. What begins as a cold contract marriage spirals into a dangerous game of buried trauma, stolen identities, and forbidden attachment. He’s ruthless, closed off, and refuses to love. She’s resilient, lost, and refuses to stay unloved. But when secrets unravel revealing a stolen childhood, a tragic past, and a vengeful stepmother, their fake marriage is the only thing standing between them and destruction. In a world ruled by power and silence, will love dare to speak first or break them both instead?
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“You’ll be fine, Mom. I promise.” I smiled, even if it felt like lying through my teeth. “My job pays well, I’ve got savings, we’ll handle the chemo soon.” I had to be strong. For both of us. She gave a weak sigh, eyes glistening. “You shouldn’t be wasting your life on me, Venus. You’re only twenty-two. You should be out there living, dancing, falling in love…” “Stop.” I tucked a stray curl behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “You don’t worry about anything. I’ve got us.” Her voice dropped. “How’s your dad?” My jaw clenched. Of course, she couldn’t meet my eyes. The man hadn’t visited once since her diagnosis. “I haven’t seen him since Sunday,” I said flatly. “And I hope I don’t. It’s been peaceful.” She opened her mouth—probably to defend him again—but I stood. “I have to get to work, Mom. I’ll see you later.” “Thank you for coming every day, sweetheart. I don’t deserve you.” “You do,” I said, hugging her. “I’m your daughter. That’s all that matters.” ------ I hailed a cab, dropped into the backseat, and clutched my bag like my life depended on it. Inside was the file. The file. The one Aaron Sinclair had tossed onto my desk last night like a time bomb. You’d check twice too if you worked for a man like him—dangerous in Dior, heartless in Hugo. He’s the kind of man who walks into a room and makes gravity shift. Broad shoulders. Razor jaw. Hazel eyes that could slice through you if his words hadn’t already done it. To every other woman, he’s a fantasy. To me? A nightmare in tailored suits. Two months working under him, and I swear he gets off on making my life miserable. Impossible deadlines, inhuman workload, cold stares that could freeze hell itself. And yet he hasn’t fired me. Because no matter how much he wants to break me, I always deliver. Why not quit, you ask? Because I can’t. I was a waitress before this, barely surviving. This job is the reason my mother has a bed in a hospital and not a floor in a rundown clinic. I have a degree, yes. But the world doesn’t pay in potential, it pays in cold, hard results. The cab pulled up in front of the towering steel-and-glass building I now called hell. I paid, got out, and took a deep breath. Showtime. ------ The second I stepped into my office—just a thin wall away from Mr. Sinclair’s—the intercom rang. “My office. Now.” No greeting. Just that voice. Sharp. Clipped. Cold. “God, give me strength,” I muttered and walked to his door. Knock. “Come in.” I entered and stood straighter than usual. “Good morning, Mr. Sinclair. You called for me?” He didn’t look up right away. When he did, those hazel eyes locked on mine like a sniper's target. “Sit,” he said, irritation laced in every syllable. I sat. The silence stretched. Long enough to make me fidget. Then— “Marry me.” I blinked. My brain stalled. “What?” “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said smoothly, like he hadn’t just shattered reality. And just like that, my nightmare said he wanted to make it legal.VENUSIf Aaron hadn’t come to me that night—if he hadn’t held my face in his hands and told me to trust him—I would have believed it was real.I would have believed the divorce had carved something final between us.Because after the papers were signed, he didn’t look at me.Not once.The lawyers gathered the documents, their voices soft and professional, already moving on to logistics as if they hadn’t just witnessed the quiet destruction of a marriage. Aaron stood first. His chair scraped lightly against the floor, the sound sharp enough to make my pulse jump.He didn’t hesitate.Didn’t linger.He walked straight for the door.For a split second, panic flared in my chest. Wait. Stay. Look at me. But I swallowed the urge down because I understood now—this was the part we had to sell.The door opened.And chaos poured in.Flashes exploded like lightning. Questions collided over each other, sharp and invasive.“Mr. Sinclair, is it true you’ve finalized your divorce?”“Is this connected
GABBYI had already decided before the car ever started moving.That was the thing about choices like this—they weren’t made in the moment of chaos. They were made quietly, earlier, when no one was watching. When fear settled into resolve instead of panic.The men didn’t notice when I leaned forward between the seats and handed them the bottles.“Water,” I said lightly. “Long drive.”The one in the passenger seat grunted and took it without looking. The other twisted the cap and drank half of it in one go. They were careless. Comfortable. Men who believed the worst danger was already behind them.I watched their throats move as they swallowed.Counted the seconds in my head.Iris sat beside me in the backseat, small and bundled, her legs barely touching the edge of the seat. I angled my body toward her without thinking, one arm casually braced in front of her like that alone could protect her from what was coming.“Are we going home now?” she asked quietly.“Soon,” I said, keeping my
VENUS Andrea’s call came before dusk.I couldn't sleep or eat after Aaron left. I was worried and couldn't stop wondering what Aaron had planned.The phone vibrated in my hand before I even saw her name, I answered without greeting.“Have you picked a date yet?” Andrea snapped.No pretense. No mock warmth. Her voice was sharp, irritated, stripped of the smug calm she usually wore like perfume.“No,” I said. “I haven’t.”A beat.Then she exploded.“Shut up,” Andrea hissed. “Don’t insult me by pretending you still have choices.”I tightened my grip on the phone.“You don’t get to stall,” she went on, words coming fast now, clipped, angry. “You don’t get to think. You don’t get to hesitate. Since you can’t seem to pick a date, I’ve done it for you.”My stomach dropped.“It’s tomorrow,” she said. “Everything’s arranged."I swallowed. “Tomorrow isn’t—”“I’ll be there,” Andrea cut in coldly. “In person. And don’t test me, Venus. You already know what happens if you do.”Silence stretched
COLTON You learn quickly in my line of work that waiting is the most dangerous part.Not the breach.Not the gunfire.Not even the aftermath.Waiting.Because waiting gives your mind room to imagine the worst and imagination has teeth.We’d positioned our men along the perimeter of the last confirmed signal ping just before dusk. A semi-rural stretch. It was quiet and too clean. The kind of place people chose precisely because no one paid attention to it. Long driveways, trees heavy with shadow, properties spaced far enough apart to keep secrets comfortable.The properties here were bought under shell companies.I sat in the driver’s seat of an unmarked SUV, engine idling low, eyes fixed on the house ahead. Connor was in the vehicle behind me, monitoring feeds and chatter through his headset. Our people were spread out in a loose ring—no lights, no noise, no mistakes.We didn’t rush.Minutes stretched.Then half an hour.Then an hour.Nothing.No movement. No lights. No silhouettes c






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