เข้าสู่ระบบ"You want to ruin me, Elara? You can try. But if my empire burns, I’m dragging you into the fire with me." Elara Vance is drowning. After her father’s tragic suicide leaves her with crippling debts and a disabled younger sister to protect, she makes a desperate deal with a shadow syndicate: infiltrate Thorne Industries, become the personal assistant to the ruthless CEO, Julian Thorne, and plant a virus that will bankrupt him entirely. Julian is a man carved from ice and paranoia. Known as the Devil of Wall Street, he trusts no one. Yet, he finds himself dangerously captivated by his brilliant, defiant new assistant. The chemistry between them is a ticking time bomb intoxicating, explosive, and completely forbidden. But a deal is a deal. After one reckless, passionate night in her boss’s bed, Elara pulls the trigger on his company and flees into the night. She thinks she’s escaped. She thinks she’s won. Until she finds out the syndicate lied, and a car bomb nearly takes Julian's life. Until the men who hired her turn their guns on her sister. Julian Thorne isn't dead. He is standing in her cheap motel room bleeding, furious, and holding the positive test. Now, Elara is a prisoner in a golden cage. To save his plummeting stock and protect his unborn heir from the assassins hunting them, Julian forces Elara into a fake marriage. She must play the perfect, adoring wife to the man who now despises her. But in a world of mafia blood debts, corporate warfare, and lethal family secrets, the line between hatred and a dark, consuming love is razor-thin. And Julian is about to show the world exactly what happens when someone threatens his wife.
ดูเพิ่มเติมChapter 1
My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t afford to let my fingers slip. 98%... 99%... The loading bar on Julian Thorne’s encrypted hard drive crawled at an agonizing pace. I held my breath, the blue light of the monitor reflecting in my eyes, illuminating the dark, sprawling expanse of the CEO’s penthouse office. Downstairs, the Thorne Industries annual gala was in full swing. I was supposed to be pouring champagne, a nameless caterer in a sea of billionaires. Instead, I was plugging a flash drive into the devil’s personal computer, stealing the financial records that would send him to federal prison. 100%. Transfer Complete. "Got you," I whispered, yanking the drive free and slipping it into the lace of my thigh garter beneath my uniform skirt. I turned to leave, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I wouldn't take another step, Miss Vance." The voice was like dark velvet scraping against ice. It didn't come from the door. It came from the shadows in the corner of the room. My blood turned to lead. A single desk lamp clicked on. Julian Thorne was sitting in a leather armchair, a glass of amber whiskey in his hand. He wasn’t wearing his tuxedo jacket. His bowtie was undone, hanging loosely around his neck, and the top buttons of his shirt were open, revealing the faint edge of a dark tattoo on his collarbone. He was breathtakingly gorgeous. And he was the man who drove my father to an early grave. "Mr. Thorne," I managed to say, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I—I was lost. I was looking for the catering kitchen." Julian stood up. He was six-foot-three of pure, predatory grace. He set his glass down, the clink echoing like a gunshot in the silent room. As he walked toward me, the air in the room seemed to evaporate. He smelled of cedarwood, expensive scotch, and danger. He stopped inches from me. I had to tilt my head back to meet his piercing, slate-gray eyes. They were cold, calculating, dissecting me layer by layer. "Lost," he repeated softly. He reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of my skirt, hovering dangerously close to where the flash drive rested against my thigh. I suppressed a shiver. "Yes," I breathed. Julian’s lips curved into a cruel, knowing smile. He leaned in, his mouth hovering just an inch from my ear. His breath was warm, sending a treasonous spike of electricity down my spine. "Tell me, Elara," he whispered. "Do all lost caterers know my personal, 32-character alphanumeric computer password?" My breath hitched. He knows. He stepped back, his eyes flashing with a terrifying darkness. "You have two choices. You can walk out that door, and my security team will hand you over to the FBI for corporate espionage. Or..." "Or what?" I choked out, my facade crumbling. His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second too long. "Or you come to work for me directly. As my personal assistant. You want to see my secrets so badly, Elara? I’ll show them to you." I stared at him, my mind spinning. He was offering me the keys to his kingdom. It was exactly what I wanted. So why did it feel like I had just walked into a trap? "When do I start?" I asked. Julian smiled. "Take off your apron. You start right now."Chapter 17"Dr. Aris!" Julian roared, ignoring Victor’s unconscious body.The doctor crawled out from behind the overturned medical crates, his face pale and smeared with soot. He rushed to my side, immediately pressing his hands to my stomach."The cramping is starting again," I gasped, burying my face in Julian’s chest as a wave of pain ripped through me. "Julian, it hurts so bad.""She needs the IV re-established immediately," Dr. Aris barked, pulling emergency supplies from his scattered kit. "The stress of the attack is aggravating the hematoma. If her blood pressure doesn't drop in the next five minutes, she is going to lose the baby, Mr. Thorne."Julian’s breathing turned jagged. He looked down at me, tears welling in his fierce gray eyes. He was trapped.He had to stay to keep me calm. To keep our baby alive.But down in the dark, Sebastian was holding Lily. And Victor had said a timer was ticking."Julian," I whispered, reaching up to cup his soot-stained cheek. My vision was
Chapter 16The cold steel of Victor’s combat knife pressed into the fragile skin of my throat. A single drop of warm blood trailed down my collarbone."Julian is going to slaughter you," I hissed, glaring up into Victor’s sadistic eyes. I refused to cry. I refused to let this monster see me break."Julian is a corporate suit playing dress-up with the mafia," Victor sneered, his hot, metallic breath washing over my face. "He’s weak. He cares too much. And that is exactly why Sebastian is going to take his empire, and I am going to take his life. Starting with you."Victor raised the heavy knife, shifting his grip to plunge it into my chest.I didn't freeze. My father hadn't raised a coward.With a feral scream, I thrust my hand up, plunging my thumbs directly into Victor’s eyes.Victor howled in agony, his grip on my hair loosening as he thrashed backward. The knife wildly slashed the air, narrowly missing my face. I kicked him squarely in the chest, scrambling backward across the bloo
Chapter 15"Are you absolutely sure?" Marcus demanded, his hand dropping to his sidearm."I'm sure," I said, typing furiously on the bunker's terminal. Dr. Aris was shouting at me to get back in bed, but I ignored him. The baby was safe for now, but Lily was running out of time.My fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing the bunker's internal firewalls to access the building's main network map."Sebastian used node 402 to mask the broadcast," I explained, the green code reflecting in my eyes. "Node 402 is tied to the sub-levels. He’s not in the penthouse. He’s not out in the city. He’s..."I hit ENTER, and a blueprint of the building flashed on the screen, a red dot blinking furiously."He's in the abandoned subway tunnels directly beneath Thorne Tower," I whispered. "It's the only place security cameras don't reach."Marcus cursed violently. He pulled out his radio. "Alpha team, this is Marcus. Abort the city sweep. The target is in the catacombs beneath the tower. I repeat, targ
Chapter 14The sub-basement bunker of Thorne Tower was a fortress buried sixty feet below Manhattan bedrock. It was cold, metallic, and completely cut off from the outside world.I lay on a plush bed in the center of the bunker, an IV dripping fluids into my arm. Dr. Aris sat in the corner, monitoring my vitals, while Marcus stood guard by the only door.But it wasn't Marcus I was staring at.Standing in the shadows of the bunker were four men I had never seen before. They wore bespoke Italian suits that cost more than my life, but they didn't look like businessmen. They moved like predators. They carried customized, suppressed weapons, and they watched the doors with the dead-eyed focus of professional killers.The mafia."Who are they?" I whispered to Marcus.Before Marcus could answer, the heavy titanium door unsealed with a hiss.A man walked in. He was older, perhaps in his late fifties, with silver hair at his temples and a perfectly trimmed beard. He radiated an aura of quiet,












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