LOGINNessa Mateo never wanted a family. She wanted survival, and Roman Robert gave her that, funding a life she couldn't build alone. But when she falls for a man who feels like an escape from all of it, she doesn't yet know his name is Robert too. By the time she realizes Victor is Roman's son, it's too late to walk away. She marries into the family that already owns a piece of her. She carries a child that isn't her husband's. She keeps her father in law in her bed and her secrets in the dark, until a body falls down a staircase, a recording surfaces, and the truth about who killed her father comes to light. But as rivals circle the family fortune, a sister starts asking questions no one wants answered, and old enemies resurface with proof that could end them all, Nessa realizes the secrets she's buried are the only thing still holding her world together. But Nessa doesn't run from Roman. She never has.
View MoreVictor arrived twelve minutes early.Nessa opened the door to find him standing there with a suitcase and a tired, hopeful smile that hit her like a physical blow. He dropped the bag without looking at it, pulled her into a tight hug, and buried his face in her hair like he had been waiting months for exactly this moment.“I couldn’t wait another three weeks,” he murmured against her neck. “I changed the ticket at the last minute. Surprised?”“Yeah,” she managed. “Surprised.”He kissed her. The kiss was warm and familiar and completely wrong in the apartment that still carried the faint scent of Roman’s cologne. When Victor finally stepped back and looked around the open living space, his smile dimmed a little.“Whose place is this?”“A friend’s,” Nessa said quickly. “I’m housesitting. Long story. The timing just worked out.”Victor accepted the explanation with a tired nod. He was too happy to see her, too worn out from the flight, to push harder. He wheeled his suitcase further insi
The elevator ride was silent.Nessa stood on one side of the mirrored car, Roman on the other, the soft mechanical hum the only sound between them. Her pulse still hadn’t settled from the moment in the back seat. He knew about Victor. He had been reading the messages. The careful double life she had built was already compromised, and the man who now held the keys to her apartment, her money, and her body didn’t look even slightly concerned about it.The doors opened onto the private floor. Roman stepped out first. She followed.Inside the apartment he loosened his tie, poured himself a drink, and didn’t offer her one. He leaned against the counter and studied her over the rim of the glass like he was already three steps ahead of whatever she might say.“Sit down.”Nessa stayed on her feet. “You went through my phone.”“I went through everything connected to you the night we met,” he said. “The boyfriend was an easy find. Long-distance. Soft. Thinks you’re a waitress. Convenient.” He t
Nessa woke to the sound of a shower running and the low murmur of a one-sided phone conversation from the next room.For a few seconds she didn’t move. The sheets were too soft, cool against her bare skin. The air smelled like expensive soap, clean linen, and the sex from last night. Her body ached in places that still felt marked. She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet with her, and looked around the unfamiliar bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling glass. City still half-asleep beyond it. No thin walls. No stack of crumpled bills on a nightstand. No distant bass from a club that never really closed.Her bag sat neatly on a chair near the door. Someone had placed it there.She reached for her phone.Three messages from Victor, time-stamped across the night.*Hey, you never called back last night. Everything okay?**Miss you. Feels like it’s been forever since we actually talked.**I’m looking at flights. Might be able to come home for a long weekend next month. Would that work?*Nessa’s thumb hover
Nessa stopped walking.The black car idled at the curb, engine quiet, rear window still down. Streetlight caught the edge of his face—same sharp lines, same unreadable eyes from the private room. The taste of him was still on her tongue. The thick fold of bills pressed against her skin under her top.She should have kept walking. That was the rule. Take the money. Leave. Don’t give them a second chance to decide they own more than the hour they paid for.Instead she opened the door and slid in.The door shut with a soft, expensive click. Leather seats. Cool air. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with something darker. He didn’t look at her right away. Just spoke to the driver without raising his voice.“Drive.”The car pulled into traffic. Nessa kept her hands in her lap, spine straight, heart beating too hard against her ribs. She waited. Men like this always wanted to talk first when they thought they had leverage.“You live in a walk-up six blocks from the club,” he said. “Third






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