LOGINCaelen Valentine has it all—money, charm, and zero consequences. Until one reckless night lands him in the worst possible mess: he’s gotten Aria Throne pregnant. Her brother, Lucian, is the city’s most feared mafia boss. And he doesn’t forgive. But when Lucian takes Caelen hostage, their hatred sparks something neither expects—an obsession neither can control. Now it’s more than revenge. More than pride. It’s a game of desire, danger, and a love that could ruin them both. In a world of power and betrayal, will they choose each other—or destroy everything?
View MoreLIAM MARTIN'S POVI could barely focus. The world seemed to tilt sideways, the chatter and clinking glasses downstairs turning into an unintelligible hum. My vision swam in a haze of disbelief, confusion, and adrenaline. My knees felt weak—I had to lean into Grayson just to stay upright.“You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his hands bracing me, steady as bedrock. I’d leaned against him without thinking, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something warmer, more intimate, something only he carried. My pulse was a chaotic drum in my ears.“What… what’s happening?” My voice sounded thin, almost foreign. I felt my chest tighten painfully.“Shh,” he said softly, tilting my chin up. His thumb brushed over my jaw with that careful patience that made me want to melt into him entirely. “Just listen.”I nodded dumbly. Words wouldn’t form. My thoughts kept colliding: The party… the people… why is he like this?“I love you,” he said suddenly, almost breaking the fragile quiet
GRAYSON PITTMAN’S POVThe office had that same sterile chill it always did—the hum of the central air, the quiet buzz of the espresso machine, and the faint static of irritation coming from Caisen every time I so much as breathed in his direction. He sat across from me with his usual disdain, the type that made you wonder if he was born glaring.He had his feet on my coffee table and his hand halfway inside Lucian's assistant’s shirt. Typical.Caisen wasn’t mine to control, though heaven knew I’d tried once. I let him and his theatrics exist like a necessary chaos in an otherwise precise world.He was running his thumb along the waistband of Conrad’s jeans, smirking like a cat with feathers in its mouth. I didn’t bother hiding my sigh. “You two do remember this is an office, not an episode of something banned on network television?”Caisen gave me a look sharp enough to decapitate. “You called us here, Pittman. Don’t complain about what you invite.”I had, indeed. And now I almost reg
LIAM MARTIN’S POVThe kiss left a taste of espresso and regret on my tongue. I could still feel the press of his hands—steady, commanding, devastatingly gentle—lingering on my skin long after he pulled away. Grayson Pittman didn’t just touch; he claimed. Every brush of his fingers felt like a vow I wasn’t foolish enough to believe anymore.He stood there for a second, his expression unreadable, before muttering something about dinner. I nodded, mutely. He left the conservatory first, as if he hadn’t just rearranged the air I breathed. Typical.I followed minutes later, my lips swollen, my heart swollen stupidly more. The dining room was dimly lit, the kind of aesthetic Grayson liked—muted elegance, crystal glasses that probably cost more than my entire college degree. I sat opposite him, quietly eating the risotto Ratna had left warming on the side. He didn’t speak. Neither did I. Our silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was a ghost of something unfinished, waiting for one of us to flinch
GRAYSON PITTMAN'S POVThe door to the conservatory, which I had long since converted into Liam’s private studio, was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, the scent of cold americano and paper filling the air, a much-preferred aroma to the sterile smell of my office. He was hunched over a massive drafting table, his back curved like a parenthesis, illuminated by the focused arc of an architectural lamp. Ratna’s report was accurate: he hadn’t moved.He was sitting on a modernist chair—all sleek lines and hard plastic—and the sight of his strained posture sent a sharp, involuntary tremor of irritation through me. Every ache in his body, especially the lower back pain that must be radiating down his spine, was my fault. I owned that debt, and seeing him suffer needlessly, even physically, was unacceptable.“You’re going to ruin your spine,” I stated, my voice cutting through the silent focus of the room. I walked over, not waiting for a response, and snagged one of the overstuffed velvet p
CAISEN VALENTINE'S POVThe mansion was quiet when I walked in. Too quiet. No servants, no footsteps, no muffled chatter. Even the guards outside seemed to have vanished into shadows.Seems like Lucian hasn't returned yet. I knew where he'd be.I climbed the stairs two at a time and turned down
LUCIAN THRONE'S POVThe sun filtered through the tall windows of our penthouse, gilding everything in gold. The world outside buzzed faintly — cars honking, the low thrum of life — but in this room, it was still. Quiet.Too quiet.I stood at the edge of the guest room, watching them.Caelen was sit
LIAM MARTIN'S POVThe first thing I registered was the dull throb behind my eyes, a familiar, unwelcome guest after a night of too much drinking. The second was the ache in my lower back, a deep, radiating soreness that had nothing to do with sleeping wrong. I squinted against the morning light tha
GRAYSON PITTMAN'S POVThe granite slab of my conference table felt cold and solid beneath my palms, a necessary anchor in a world that had felt suspiciously fluid since dawn. I ran the final numbers on the acquisition details, my voice clipped and professional as I spoke to my assistant, Mark, stand
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