FAZER LOGINShe walked in on her fiancé buried deep inside her best friend the night before their wedding. Nadia Reeves did not cry. She did not scream. She walked straight into a Vegas bar and ordered enough whiskey to burn the world down. That was when the Devil found her. Dominic Marcello was cold, ruthless, and impossibly beautiful. He offered her a deal wrapped in black ink and diamonds: marry him, become his in every way, and watch him destroy the two people who shattered her. In return, he would give her the revenge she craved and the power she never knew she needed. She said yes. What began as a drunken contract in a neon chapel quickly became something far more dangerous. Dominic's touch awakened sensations he had never felt in his life and something feral in her. He claimed her body with ice and dominance. She claimed his soul without trying. Their nights were raw, possessive, and intimate. Their days became an intoxicating game of power, public revenge, and deepening obsession. But every perfect touch and whispered "little dove" was built on one buried secret. Dominic had not simply taken advantage of her pain. He had orchestrated the entire betrayal. When Nadia discovers the blood money he paid her best friend to seduce her fiancé, proof that her entire marriage was part of his cold calculation from the beginning, her world implodes. Now the man who taught her how to burn is the one holding the match to their future. Can a love forged in manipulation, obsession, and breathtaking passion survive the ultimate betrayal? Or will the devil who woke her up be the one who finally breaks her? A dark, addictive billionaire romance packed with scorching dominance, heart-wrenching emotion, a jaw-dropping midpoint twist, and an earned, swoon-worthy HEA.
Ver maisThe days had become softer around the edges.We no longer measured time by what needed to be done. Instead, we measured it by the quality of the light, the temperature of the air, and the small rhythms we had kept for decades. Dominic still rose early, though he now moved more deliberately. I followed a little later, often finding him already seated on the porch with a cup of tea cooling beside him.On this particular morning, I joined him without speaking. We sat together and watched the garden wake up. The new roses he had planted two seasons ago were beginning to establish themselves. They were smaller than the old ones, but they carried the same deep color. I liked that. It felt like the garden was learning to make room for what could still grow.After a while, Dominic spoke.“Alexander called last night while you were resting,” he said. “He and Sam are coming next month. They want to bring the baby.”I smiled. Our great-grandchild was only four months old. We had seen photographs,
The sun rose the same way it always had.I woke before Dominic, as I sometimes still did. The room was already touched with light. I lay still for a while, listening to the sound of his breathing beside me. It was slower now than it had been even a few years ago, but steady. Reliable. The sound of a man who had kept his promises.When I turned my head on the pillow, I saw that he was already awake. His eyes were open, looking at the ceiling the way he often did in the early mornings. He must have felt me move, because he turned toward me and gave me that small, familiar smile.“Morning,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.“Morning.”We did not get up right away. There was no rush anymore. The days no longer demanded anything from us except that we keep living them. After a while, Dominic reached over and took my hand under the blanket. We stayed like that until the light in the room grew brighter.Eventually we rose and dressed. Dominic moved more carefully now, but he still refused
The garden had changed with us.Some of the oldest roses were gone now, replaced by younger bushes Dominic had planted in the last few years. The vegetable beds were smaller than they used to be. We no longer had the strength to tend as much as we once did, but we still went out every morning. Dominic moved more slowly, his back bent from decades of work, yet his hands remained steady when he tied a stem or pulled a weed. I walked beside him with a cane on the harder days, and we took our time.We were old now. Truly old. Our hair was white, our faces mapped with the years. The house still stood around us, filled with the same furniture and the same quiet light that had greeted us for more than half a century. The foundation continued its work under new leadership. Isabella shaped policy from a position of quiet influence. Alexander trained therapists who carried his methods into clinics across the country. Their child, now a young adult, visited us often and asked questions about the
The idea came to me on an ordinary morning while I was sitting at the kitchen table with a blank notebook open in front of me. The house was quiet. Dominic had gone out to the garden early, as he often did now. Through the window I could see him moving slowly between the raised beds, checking the last of the tomatoes and tying back a few late-blooming roses. The light was soft and golden. Everything felt settled.I had not planned to start another book. After *Always* I had told myself I was finished with writing in that way. The story of our life together had been told. The lessons about choosing and healing and staying had been put on the page. There was nothing left that needed saying.But as I sat there with the notebook and a pen, I realized there was still one thing I had not written about.Legacy.Not the kind that lives in buildings or organizations or even in books. The quieter kind. The things that remain in people after you are gone. The values that get passed forward witho
**Nadia** I had thought about this moment before. Not with him, obviously. Not in a Vegas penthouse with a man whose last name I'd learned three hours ago. But I had thought about it the way careful girls thought about things they kept private, quietly, in the back of their minds, tucked behind ev
**Dominic** I had touched women before. Plenty of them. In rooms like this and rooms nothing like this, in arrangements far less complicated than the one currently standing in front of me in white lace, trying very hard to look like she wasn't terrified. This should have been simple. "Undress sl
**Nadia** The chapel was the size of a closet. That was my first thought when we walked in. White walls, two rows of empty chairs, a single aisle that took maybe ten steps to cross. A plastic flower arrangement sat at the altar, dusty at the edges. The officiant was a small man in a rumpled grey s
**Dominic** She didn't turn around right away. Good. That gave me time. Her posture was rigid. Shoulders pulled tight, spine straight, the whole thing held together by sheer force of will. Not weak. I could see that immediately. Controlled. The kind of controlled that meant she was one wrong word


















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