MasukTHIS IS A DARK ROMANCE FEATURING DARK CONTENT AND MORALLY AMBIGUOUS CHARACTERS. Peyton has been in her marriage, enduring the pain of watching Odin, her husband, flirt and cheat in the guise of an open marriage—a decision he made without her agreement. She hit a dead end when Odin broke the number one rule: bringing one of his flings to their home, their bed. That's when she made an impulsive decision—cheat and not feel guilty. He wants her to get a boyfriend? No, she'd do him one better. One night, that's all it took, and the next day she finds herself tangled with her husband's brother. Axel—He's a live wire, pure mischief and untamed. He doesn't just give Peyton what she's been starved of; he ignites a fire she didn't know she had, making her crave the wild freedom only he offers. With Axel, it's not just a fling; it's an explosion of everything forbidden. Raphael—A little unhinged? More like a master of controlled chaos. He's the kind of man who sears himself into your soul, leaving an unforgettable mark deep in your memories. Raphael doesn't just flip a switch in your brain; he rewires it entirely, making you question every sane choice you've ever made. Ready to dive deeper into Peyton's dangerous game?
Lihat lebih banyak~~PEYTON~~ONE YEAR LATERI am currently commando-crawling across the rug like a protagonist in a low-budget action movie. My target? The crib. The tiny, high-stakes biological weapon currently snoring like he didn't spend three hours last night screaming at a shadow on the wall.I reach the edge of the bed, popping my head up. "Guess whose birthday it is?"Still snoring, still sleeping.How do I wake him? I need a way to get back at him for depriving me of sleep.The birthday boy is named Leo—short for Leonardo, because Axel wanted 'classic' and Raphael wanted 'expensive.'He jolts a little because I poked him with my finger.He tries to go back to sleep, but I don't let him.I poke him again.“Wakey wakey!“Finally.He lunges for my hair with the grip of a professional wrestler."Ow! Mother of—"The sound of a ceramic plate meeting its maker echoes from the kitchen downstairs. I roll my eyes so hard I’m pretty sure I see my own brain."And that, Leo, is the sound of your fathers fai
~~PEYTON~~Whoever created childbirth to be this painful? Fuck you. I mean it. I don’t care if you strike me with thunder right now—actually, go ahead, it would probably be a distraction from what’s happening to my lower half!It hurts. It doesn't just hurt; it feels like my body is being turned inside out by a pair of dull pliers."Shit," I hiss, gripping the hospital bed railing until my knuckles turn white. "I should have done a C-section. Why didn't I just opt for the CS? Is it too late to just cut this thing out of me?""Peyton, breathe," Axel says, leaning over me. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the last three hours. He’s trying to be the 'calm' one, but I can see his hand shaking."Don't tell me to breathe," I snap, my voice sounding like a demon's. "I'm breathing! My lungs are fine! It’s the rest of me that’s exploding!"Raphael is behind him, looking more pale than I’ve ever seen him. The man who used to run a casino and deal with high-stakes thugs is currently looking
~~PEYTON~~Esme hasn't contacted me once since she woke up. Typical. According to Axel, she basically vanished into thin air the second she got her discharge papers. He’s been hovering, suggesting we should track her down or hire someone to make sure she’s not sleeping in a designer cardboard box, but I declined. Fast.She was shitty to me. Period. I’m not playing the concerned daughter for a woman who only remembered I existed when she was flying through a windshield. I’ll only help if she actually asks for it—which she won't. She’s got too much dignity for that. Or pride. Usually, they’re the same thing when you’re as delusional as she is.I’m hoping that pride is enough to help her survive. She’s still pretty, despite the bruises. Give or take a few weeks, she’ll probably find another "Mr. Gold" to leech off of. That’s her only real skill, after all.I look at my reflection in the mirror and sigh. I had my own problems to deal with, and none of them involved hunting down a woman wh
~~PEYTON~~ "Is this Peyton?" A woman’s voice. Professional, clipped, comes through the speaker. The buzzing of my phone on the coffee table had jolted me out of my peaceful silence. "Depends on who’s asking," I say, keeping my voice flat. "This is St. Jude’s Hospital. We’re calling regarding an Esme? She was involved in a pedestrian-motor vehicle accident about forty minutes ago. Your number was the most recent in her outgoing logs." “What?" “I was saying—” "Is she dead?" I ask. Straight to the point. "She’s in critical condition, currently in surgery. We need a next of kin or someone to come down and— Is she family?" Of course she had to ask. I don't sound like I care right now. And funny, I'm the last person she tried to call, like I'm the center of her universe or some sort of figure of significance in her life. Jesus, Peyton, stop. You sound like a sociopath. I stare at the ceiling, watching a tiny shadow dance near the light fixture. Typical Esme. Even wh
~~PEYTON~~ I clear my throat as I press the phone against my ear. Odin picks up at the first ring. "What is it?" His voice is clipped, impatient, as if I’m interrupting something far more important than his wife's call. My stomach churns. This is going to be impossible. I snivel as if I’ve bee
~~PEYTON~~ I remember him snatching it from my thigh like it was a trophy. And a drunken me didn't even bother. I was too engrossed in the sensations—the way his fingers traced my thigh—to care. "I can't believe I'm thinking about that right now," I mutter. My body feels like a sack of cement; e
PEYTON I jolt awake, feeling something wet splash on my face, my body—everywhere. My eyes fly open, but everything is blurry, the ceiling swirling above me. And then I see a face—scrunch up like a thundercloud about to burst. "Odin, what the hell?" I snap, trying to push myself up, but my limb
~~PEYTON~~ I'm in trouble, but that doesn't mean I'll shiver in fear all because of one mysterious stranger and his chilling laugh. Nah. "Come on," I say a bit defensively. "I'm offering you payment since sorry doesn't soothe you." He stops laughing, yanks out the phone pouch, takes out the S






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