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Last Updated:
2025-08-29 16:21:16
Latest chapter
Flames of desire. We will destroy them!
Sienna’s POVThe city stretches below us, lights flickering like restless stars, distant and indifferent, unaware of the scheme that coils around the lives above, and I swirl the deep red wine in my glass, savouring the weight of it, the way the bitterness mirrors the thrill of the chaos I am about to orchestrate. Mike leans casually against the edge of his polished desk, sleeves rolled to reveal the subtle muscles of his forearms, the glint of his watch catching the light like a predator marking its territory, and I let my eyes linger, noting the calm, deliberate precision in every line of his posture, the quiet power that promises he can execute the plan with flawless efficiency.“You understand what has to happen tomorrow?” I ask, voice smooth, deliberate, as if cutting through the air itself, carrying authority and steel wrapped in the velvet of intrigue, letting him feel the weight of expectation pressing down like a tangible presence. Mike tilts his head, the faintest smirk curl
Flames of desire. It is more than passion and desire.
Claire’s POVSunlight filters through the blinds, scattering golden lines across Damon’s chest. I blink against it, my body heavy and warm beneath the sheets, tangled with his. His arm drapes possessively over my waist, pulling me closer even as he stirs from sleep. The scent of him, faintly citrus and dark wood, mingles with the softness of the sheets, and for a moment, I can’t move. I just breathe him in, memorising the weight of him, the curve of his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest. Damon murmurs something low, half-formed, his lips brushing my hair. I shift slightly, my fingers tracing patterns along the skin of his arm, feeling the firm muscle beneath. He groans softly and rolls just enough so his face is close to mine. His eyes are still half-closed, heavy-lidded with sleep, but there’s a fire there, still flickering from the night before.“Morning,” I whisper, voice hoarse from the night.“Morning,” he replies, voice deep and warm. His hand drifts lower along my back, a gen
Flames of desire. Desire and flames of fire.
Claire’s POVThe apartment is quiet, but it feels alive tonight, humming with a tension I can’t ignore. Damon steps inside behind me, and the air changes, charged with a magnetic pull I can’t resist. My heart hammers like a drum, echoing in my chest, and I can’t help but notice every detail, the way his eyes are fixed on me, dark and claiming, the subtle strength in his shoulders, the slow, deliberate movements that speak louder than words. He moves in front of me.Damon lifts the hem of my shirt, pausing just a moment, then he finally lifts it over my head. I hear his intake of breath as the cool air hits my breasts, and my shirt falls to the floor. Damon’s eyes burn my exposed breasts. I can barely breathe. My nipples harden to points. Damon wets his thumb, rubbing circles on my nipples, toying with the sharp, little points. Damon lowers to his knees and starts removing my pants. I step out of them. Damon reaches up again, taking silk panties and pulling them down my legs, my body b
Flames of desire. You are mine.
Damon’s POVI leave the Whitfield estate behind, the heavy doors closing like a verdict. Sienna’s furious hiss echoes in my mind even as I descend the driveway, the gravel crunching under my shoes in rhythm with my heartbeat. My father’s words linger too, warnings, reminders, the weight of an empire passed down through generations. But it’s not the empire that presses at me now. It’s Claire. The thought of her quiet resilience, the way she stands her ground, the small smile that somehow pierces my defences, she dominates my every thought.The streets of Willowcreek are quiet tonight, empty but for the occasional late-night traveller, headlights flickering like distant stars in the dark. I grip the wheel, knuckles white, as I replay every moment of today. Sienna’s venom, the staff frozen in their places, the tension crackling like static electricity in the air. I can still feel it crawling under my skin. But beneath that, there’s clarity. A realisation I can no longer deny: Claire matt
Flames of desire. They will pay!
Sienna’s POVThe door to the study slams shut with a weight that reverberates through my chest. My grandfather’s command had been clear: leave. Walk away. Disappear. But I don’t. I can’t. Because I have heard every word they exchanged, every infuriating syllable that dares to humiliate me in my family home, in my own family. Damon, my uncle, has the absolute audacity to elevate Claire Johnson above me, above the Whitfield name, above everything I have fought for. I press my back to the cold oak panelling of the hallway, letting myself sink until my knees are tucked under my chin. My hands curl around them, trembling, not from weakness, but from the heat of rage boiling in my veins. My pulse pounds. Each beat a deafening drum in the quiet estate. They think I haven’t listened. They think I will obediently retreat, that I will bend to their authority, to my grandfather’s calm wisdom, to Damon’s arrogance. They don’t know me. They have no idea what they have done.I have heard it all. D
Flames of desire. The summons.
Damon’s POVThe drive to the Whitfield estate is long, winding through ancient trees and iron gates that have kept outsiders away for generations. I grip the wheel tighter as I get closer. The estate has always carried a weight with it, one that presses down on me even harder today. I shouldn’t be here. Not like this. Not summoned like a child who’s been caught stealing. But when Harold Whitfield calls, you go.My father no longer sits in boardrooms. He doesn’t sign contracts or watch stock tickers the way he once did. Age caught him. The empire is mine now, built higher, stronger, sharper under my hands. Yet despite everything I’ve done, everything I’ve proven, one thing hasn’t changed. His word still has the power to cut me down. By the time I park in front of the massive stone estate, my chest feels like a vice is tightening around it. I can already imagine him in the study: the fire low, the curtains half-drawn, the smell of old books and older scotch heavy in the air. I know I wo
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