MasukFrom the runway to a gilded cage, Cali was the world's most untouchable supermodel, until her own mother traded her like a pawn to settle a debt. Now, she is the captive bride of the city's most lethal Mafia CEO, a man who bought her soul with a signature in blood. He expects a trophy to silence and command, but he's about to learn that Cali's sarcasm is as sharp as a razor and her defiance is a fire he can't extinguish. In this dark game of obsession and power, he may own her contract, but taming the woman behind the fame might just be the one war he's destined to lose.
Lihat lebih banyakThe sun was setting, casting long, bruised shadows over the city shadows that felt like Devi’s fingers trailing over the skyline.Cali didn’t go to the agency. She didn't go back to the loft. She walked until her feet ached, her oversized hoodie pulled up like a shield against a world that was rapidly becoming a gilded cage.She ended up at The Rusty Anchor, a dive bar so grimy and forgotten that even the city's rats seemed to have moved on. It was the kind of place where the lighting was dim enough to hide her face and the smell of stale beer was strong enough to drown out the scent of sandalwood that seemed to haunt her skin."Whiskey. Neat. The cheap stuff," Cali snapped, sliding onto a cracked leather stool.The bartender, a man whose face looked like a crumpled paper bag, didn't even look up. "Rough day, Princess?""Don't call me that," she growled, her grumpy mask settling into a permanent scowl.She stared at the amber liquid in her glass. She felt the weight of the mother-of-
The meeting was a disaster, which meant for Cali, it was a soaring success. She watched the tiny squares of twelve powerful men on the monitor blink in stunned silence. They were expecting a puppet in a designer suit, instead, they got a girl in a moth-eaten hoodie with her feet on the desk of the most feared man in the city. "Any questions?" Cali asked, her voice flat and grumpy, as she popped a blackberry into her mouth. "Or are you all too busy wondering if you still have jobs? Because spoiler alert, you don't." One man, a silver-haired veteran of the agency named Miller, cleared his throat. "Miss Cali, with all due respect, you can’t just fire the entire board. The Santoro—" "The Santoro is sitting right behind the camera," Cali interrupted, casting a jagged, mean look toward the shadows where Devi stood. "And he’s the one who gave me the keys. So, Miller, you’re done. Security will escort you out. Don't forget your cactus." She clicked End Meeting before any of
The sun didn't just rise in the loft, it assaulted it. The floor-to-ceiling glass turned the shrine of her life into a blinding gallery of her own face. Cali woke up on the velvet sofa, her neck stiff and her temper shorter than the hem of her sheer gown. She stood up, her bare feet hitting the cold polished concrete, and looked at the walls. Thousands of Calis stared back. Happy Cali, sad Cali, and most of all, grumpy Cali. "Morning, narcissist," she snapped at the empty air, assuming Devi was watching his monitors. She marched over to the nearest photo, a candid of her at eighteen, laughing at a street performer. She grabbed the edge of the frame and yanked. It didn't budge. It was bolted to the masonry. "Oh, you think you’re smart?" she muttered. She looked around for something heavy. Her eyes landed on a sleek, black kitchen island. On top of it sat a single, white porcelain bowl filled with fresh blackberries and a small, silver paring knife. Next to it was a glass of
Cali didn't even look at the crepe. She swept her arm across the stone pillar, sending the silver saucer and the food clattering onto the marble floor. The sound of expensive metal hitting stone echoed like a gunshot, but no one rushed out to see what happened. The guards at the balcony entrance simply turned their heads, their faces as blank as statues. "Is that it?" she yelled at the empty air, her voice cracking with a mix of fury and exhaustion. "You buy my agency, you stalk my family, and you send me breakfast at midnight? You're pathetic!" She didn't wait for a response. She marched back into the ballroom, her heels sounding like a death march. The crowd parted for her like she was carrying a contagious disease. She saw her mother, Elena, in the corner, laughing with a group of men in sharp suits. Cali grabbed her mother's wrist, her grip bruisingly tight. "We're leaving. Now." "Cali, don't be dramatic!" Elena hissed, trying to pull away while maintaining her social
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