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publish date:
2026-04-13 16:18:56
Latest chapter
Dealing with Mr fucking right. The Morning After
Clara's POVI woke to sunlight and the weight of Cameron's arm across my waist.For a moment, I didn't remember. The penthouse was quiet, the city soft and golden through the windows, and his body was warm against my back, his breath slow and even. I felt safe and whole.Then the memories crashed in.The festival. Joe's voice. His hand on my wrist. The punch. The blood. The chaos.I sat up too fast, my heart hammering.Cameron stirred beside me, his hand reaching for me automatically. "Hey, hey. You're okay." His voice was rough with sleep, but steady. "You're safe, we're home."I looked at him. His lip was still swollen. The bruise on his jaw had darkened overnight and spreading across his cheekbone like a storm. But his eyes were clear, and he was looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered."You're hurt," I said."I've had worse.""Cameron…""I've had worse," he repeated, sitting up slowly. He winced, one hand going to his ribs, and I saw the bruise there too, it was purp
Dealing with Mr fucking right. The Disgrace
Joe's POVThe holding cell smelled like bleach and fear. I sat on a hard plastic bench, my back against the cold wall, and stared at the scuff marks on the floor. My suit was ruined—blood on the collar, wine on the sleeves and a tear at the knee from when bloody bastard had slammed me against the fountain. My face throbbed, my ribs ached and every breath reminded me that I had lost.Not just the fight. Everything.The door at the end of the hallway clanked open. Heavy footsteps approached and a guard I hadn't bothered to learn the name of appeared outside my cell."You're being released. Someone posted your bail."I stood up slowly, my joints protesting. "Who?"The guard didn't answer. He just unlocked the door and gestured for me to follow.The waiting area was empty except for one man.He was standing near the vending machines, his back to me, wearing a tailored overcoat that probably cost more than most people's rent. His hair was the same dark brown as mine, but cut shorter and ne
Dealing with Mr fucking right. After the War
Clara's POVThe penthouse was dark when we finally made it through the door.Cameron didn't turn on the lights. Neither did I. The city glowed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the floor, and we stood in the middle of the living room, still breathing hard, still vibrating with everything that had happened.His face was a mess. Blood had dried on his lip. A bruise was already blooming across his jaw. His shirt was torn at the collar, stained with wine and champagne and his own blood. He looked like he had been in a war.He looked beautiful."Sit down," I said."I'm fine.""Sit down, Cameron."He sat.I went to the bathroom and came back with a washcloth, warm water, and the first aid kit he kept under the sink. I knelt in front of him on the couch, my knees pressing into the cushions, and I began to clean his face.He watched me the whole time.His eyes were dark, unreadable and tracking every movement of my hands. I dabbed at the cut on his lip. He didn
Dealing with Mr fucking right. Blood on the Marble
Clara's POVThe silence after the punch lasted less than a second.Then Cameron moved. Not the way I expected. Not with a wild swing or a blind rage. He moved like an athlete, he was controlled, precise and devastating. His left hand shot out and grabbed Joe by the collar of his rumpled suit jacket. His right fist drew back."You want a show?" Cameron's voice was low, almost calm. "I'll give you a show."He punched Joe in the stomach.Joe doubled over, the air rushing out of him in a wet gasp. Cameron didn't let go of his collar. He held Joe up like a ragdoll, pulled him close, and spoke directly into his face."Never touch her again."Joe laughed. It was a horrible, breathless sound, half-choked and full of madness."Or what?" Joe wheezed. "You'll kill me? In front of all these people?"Cameron's jaw tightened.Joe saw the hesitation and he used it. He drove his forehead into Cameron's nose.The crack was sickening. Blood sprayed—Cameron's blood—and he staggered back, his grip on Joe
Dealing with Mr fucking right. Public Collapse
Clara's POVThe voice came from behind me."Hello, dear wife."Oh, dear God.The gallery courtyard was full of people—patrons, artists, journalists, strangers in expensive clothes holding wine glasses and pretending to care about art. I had been standing near the fountain, waiting for Cameron to come back with drinks, when I saw him and heard it. That voice. The one that had haunted my nightmares for four years.I turned around and saw Joe standing ten feet away.He looked terrible. His suit was rumpled, his eyes were bloodshot, and he had lost weight—the wrong kind of weight, the kind that came from whiskey and despair instead of diet and exercise. But his smile was the same. That cold, knowing smile that said I own you even when he owned nothing at all."You look… different," he said.I didn't answer.He stepped closer. "All of this. This is new." He gestured at the gallery behind me, at the people, at the lights. "You've been busy."I found my voice. It came out steadier than I fel
Dealing with Mr fucking right. The Festival
Clara's POVThe morning of the festival, I woke before the sun.Not because I was nervous—although I was, my stomach was a tight knot of anxiety and excitement—but because the light was different today. I lay in Cameron's bed for a moment, listening to him breathe beside me. He was still asleep, one arm thrown over his head, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. I didn't wake him. I just watched him for a moment and thought about how different my life was from the one I had lived a year ago.A year ago, I was waking up in Joe's house, in Joe's bed and in Joe's shadow.Today, I was waking up as an artist. A featured artist. At a festival I had dreamed about since I graduated from college.I slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom to get ready.Emma arrived at the penthouse at eight o'clock, carrying a garment bag and a paper bag that smelled like croissants."Rise and shine, superstar," she announced, sweeping past me like she owned the place. "I brought options. Th
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