The Billionaire's Brat

NovaThe red light on my screen blinked to life.Live.My chest rose slowly as I exhaled. My fingers slid across the silk ribbon at my neck. Tight enough to frame my collarbone, not tight enough to hurt. Not yet.The camera captured me from the waist up, and that was all they needed.I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, framed in soft pink lighting. My walls were draped in sheer white fabric, fairy lights woven through like stars. The illusion was part of the game. It always was.My robe slid off one shoulder. I let it.Underneath, I wore a black lace bodysuit that clung to every curve I owned. Thin straps crisscrossed my stomach. The neckline dipped low, sharp and unapologetic. My thighs were bare, skin smooth, lit just enough to hint at more without showing it all. My mask was velvet, simple, covering my eyes and the top half of my face. And the wig? Long, straight, dark. Not like me. That was the point.VelvetMistress wasn’t Novalyn Coldwell.VelvetMistress didn’t flinch.She didn

NovaMy pen scratched across the page as the professor paced back and forth at the front of the hall. His voice echoed slightly off the tall ceilings, but I didn’t mind. This was the only place I could breathe without having to perform. There was something about writing—being around it, talking about it—that made the noise in my head quieter. Even if just for a little while.I sat toward the back of the class, legs crossed under the desk, baggy jeans cuffed at my ankles, red canvas Converses tapping slowly against the floor. My cropped red camisole hugged my skin beneath my black zip-down hoodie, halfway unzipped. I hadn’t brushed my curls all the way out, just let them fall in their natural mess, pinned a few strands away from my face. A pair of thin gold hoops hung from my ears. My lip gloss was a soft cherry shade, glossy and loud enough to feel like armor.The professor was rambling about unreliable narrators and how fiction doesn’t have to tell the truth to be honest. I half-list

RomanThe cabin lights were dim, casting a soft golden glow over the jet's sleek interior. I sat reclined in the wide leather seat, my laptop open in front of me, the screen filled with charts, numbers, and projections I had read twice already. The numbers were good. Better than good. My return to New York was set to make waves. Still, my focus was scattered.A quiet chime came from my phone. I glanced down.VelvetMistress is live.I shouldn’t have clicked. I had a flight to finish, a city to land in, and a thousand meetings to prepare for. But my finger moved before my mind caught up. One tap. The screen filled with her.Red.She was draped in it tonight. Lace. Straps. Fire. Her voice was the same, low and teasing, curling through the speakers like smoke."Look at my good little boys," she purred, lips glossy, eyes hidden behind the familiar velvet mask. "All eager and waiting for me."I shifted in my seat. My shirt suddenly felt too tight across my chest, I shifted in my seat, tryin

NovaMy back ached the second I opened my eyes. The couch cushions dug into my spine like bricks and my neck was locked in an angle I could already tell would punish me all day. I groaned and rolled onto my side, one leg dangling off the edge. My arm reached for my phone blindly, knocking it off the coffee table before my fingers finally found it on the floor.9:57 AM."Shit."I shot up so fast I saw stars. My hair was a mess, half-curled and flattened in all the wrong places. My hoodie had ridden up in the night and one sock was missing. I blinked at the screen again, willing the time to magically go backward. It didn’t.Class started at 10:30. I had less than thirty minutes to make myself look human, get dressed, and make it across town.I dashed to the bathroom, throwing my shirt over my head mid-run. I brushed my teeth with one hand while the other adjusted the shower temperature. Jumped in. Jumped out. Toweled off in a hurry.Back in my room, I pulled on a long green floral-patte

NovaThe wind whipped through my curls as I sped through the streets, Maya clinging to my waist with both arms like her life depended on it. She was screaming something behind me, probably a mix of joy and fear, but the helmet muffled most of it. I couldn’t help the small smile that curled at my lips. There was something wild and freeing about riding like this. No traffic jams. No fake smiles. Just the road and the engine and the sky above.We pulled into the mall parking lot, and I slowed the bike, parking neatly near the entrance. Maya hopped off, tugging off the helmet with wide eyes and a breathless laugh.“That was insane,” she said. “You didn’t tell me you ride like you’re escaping a movie scene.”I shrugged. “Gotta make errands interesting somehow.”We walked into the mall together, her eyes already scanning the shops like a girl on a mission. I had told her I needed a dress for a fancy dinner, left out the whole ‘my father is hosting a billionaire birthday gala’ part. I didn’t