“You like being touched like a dirty whore. Don’t you, Zoe?”“Yes, Mr. Gatsby.”Zoe never imagined her life could fall apart so quickly. Sold at a secret auction, betrayed by her stepfather after her mother’s death., she is bought by Brayden Gatsby, a ruthless billionaire whose wealth hides darker appetites. In his world, her body is no longer her own. Every command tests her limits. Every punishment strips away who she used to be and she gets introduced to sinful fantasies. But submission isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.Because beneath the chains and the brutal lessons lies a dangerous connection, one Zoe isn’t supposed to want. Brayden is merciless, possessive, and utterly in control… yet the more he breaks her, the more he awakens something raw inside her.Caught between pain and pleasure, fear and desire, Zoe must decide: fight for the freedom stolen from her… or surrender completely to the man who bought her as his slave.
View MoreThe first night home was nothing like I imagined.There were no soft lullabies, no quiet sighs of contentment, only the fragile rhythm of newborn cries, the shuffle of feet, the clink of bottles, and Clara’s sleepy muttering about caffeine and divine punishment.The twins had their own rhythm, a demanding, unpredictable one. If one stirred, the other followed. If one quieted, the other found a reason to wail.By 3 a.m., I’d lost count of the diaper changes.“Remind me,” Clara mumbled from the couch, hair sticking out in every possible direction, “why people keep doing this to themselves voluntarily?”“Because they forget this part,” I whispered, rocking our daughter gently.Clara groaned, pulling a blanket over her head. “Selective amnesia. Mother nature’s cruel joke.”I smiled faintly, exhaustion heavy behind my eyes. But when I looked down at the tiny bundle in my arms, with her button nose and impossibly small fingers, the fatigue melted a little.She blinked up at me, curious and
By the time they left, the room felt hollow. The scent of roses still lingered, mixed with the sterile tang of antiseptic and the faint, sweet smell of the twins.Brayden stood by the window, back turned, shoulders rigid. He hadn’t said a word since they’d gone. Not when Clara slipped quietly back in to check on me, not when the nurse came to record the babies’ vitals. Not even when our son gave a soft whimper in his sleep. A week later, the discharge papers were signed.Brayden hovered near the door, pacing as Clara helped pack up the last of the hospital things. The babies were bundled up and asleep, oblivious to the tension weaving through the air.“I’ll have the car ready,” Brayden said, glancing over his shoulder. “You’ll be more comfortable at the mansion. There’s a nursery, staff…”I smiled faintly. “I’m not going back there.”He stopped mid-step. “What?”“I’ve got my own place now. Clara’s staying with me. I’ll be fine.”His brow furrowed, confusion giving way to something he
Adrian’s gaze flicked from Brayden to me, the lilies trembling slightly in his hand. For a moment, no one spoke. The air thickened.“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Adrian said finally, his voice calm but guarded. “Clara called. Said you’d gone into labor.”He took a few steps inside, his presence soft but steady, a quiet contrast to Brayden’s storm. He set the flowers down beside the bassinets, his fingers brushing one of the ribbons tied around the newborns’ wrists. “They’re perfect,” he murmured.Brayden rose to his full height, every inch of him drawn tight like a wire about to snap. “You can leave now.”“Brayden,” Clara hissed from the doorway, but he didn’t look at her. His focus stayed locked on Adrian, a silent warning that needed no words.Adrian met it without flinching. “You don’t get to dictate this,” he said evenly. “Not anymore.”I could feel my pulse pounding in my throat. The tension between them was a current crackling through the sterile hospital air, threatening to ignit
Brayden didn’t hesitate as he bolted down the hallway. By the time he pulled the car up front, I was doubled over, half-sobbing from the pain.“Easy,” he whispered as he helped me in, his voice trembling now. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Zoe.”“Don’t…talk…just drive,” I gasped.Clara was in the back seat, coaching me through the breathing. “You’re okay, babe. You’re almost there. Just hang on, alright?”I tried. I really did. But the pain was dragging me under again and again.When we reached the hospital, nurses rushed toward us, shouting instructions neither of us could process. Brayden refused to leave my side until a nurse physically stopped him at the delivery room doors.“Sir, you can’t be in here right now…” “The hell I can’t…” “Brayden!” I cried out, another contraction slicing through me. “Just…stay outside!”He froze, torn between guilt and fear, before stepping back, his hand still reaching for me even as the doors shut.Inside, it was chaos, bright lights, doctors’ voice
When I walked into the apartment, Clara was on the couch, eating ice cream straight from the tub. She looked up instantly. “Well?” she demanded. “How was it? Did you kiss? Is he secretly boring?” I set my bag down, still processing. “It was… fine.” Clara narrowed her eyes. “That’s your lying voice.” “Clara.” “Spill.” I sighed, sinking onto the couch. “Fine. It wasn’t boring. But something happened.” Her spoon paused midair. “Define something.” “We ran into Alessia and Leonardo.” Her mouth dropped open. “What? Where? Oh, I bet she was nasty.” “She was worse than nasty.” I leaned back. “Adrian shut her down, though.” “Well, good for him.” “Yeah, except…” I hesitated. “Leonardo recognized him.” “As what?” “As the heir to the Moretti empire.” Clara blinked. Then blinked again. “Wait. Like the Morettis? The Italian mafia guys with private jets and blood feuds?” I nodded. She let out a low whistle. “Girl. You don’t do small drama, do you?” “I didn’t know!” I groaned, cover
The next day Clara was sprawled across my bed with a pile of dresses when I came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel.“You’re acting like this is a royal ball,” I muttered, eyeing the mess.She propped her chin on her hand. “It’s not a royal ball. It’s your first date, with a man who has jawlines sharp enough to commit crimes. Priorities, Zoe.”“It’s not a date,” I said automatically, but even to my own ears, it sounded weak.She grinned. “Right. That’s why you’ve shaved your legs and spent twenty minutes deciding between lip gloss or lipstick.”I tossed a pillow at her. “I’m just going to dinner.”“With Adrian,” she sing-songed. “The hot neighbor who sends flowers and rescues damsels with slashed tires.”I sighed, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Clara… is this wrong?”Her teasing faded. “What do you mean?”“I’m still married. Legally, anyway. Even if Brayden doesn’t remember me, it feels like I’m betraying him somehow.”She sat up, her expression soft. “Zoe, that man forgot you ex
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