MasukOn the night of her bridal shower, Amara Collins thought she was about to begin a happily-ever-after. Instead, she was betrayed by the two people she trusted most—her best friend and her fiancé. Drugged and humiliated, she wakes up in the bed of a stranger… a stranger who changes her fate forever. That man is Damian Blackwell—the elusive, cold-hearted billionaire who hasn’t let anyone close since his parents’ death and his uncle’s cruel betrayal. Known in the business world as a ruthless genius, Damian hides a secret: his rare condition makes him allergic to human contact… until Amara. For the first time in years, her touch doesn’t burn him—it heals him. Damian doesn’t believe in coincidence. To him, Amara is more than a woman—she’s his cure. His salvation. And he’s not about to let her go. So when the broken bride tries to run from him, Damian makes her an offer she can’t refuse A marriage built on secrets, obsession, and dangerous desires. But can Amara survive loving a man who sees her as the only antidote to his pain? And what happens when her betrayers return, determined to ruin the fragile bond between them?
Lihat lebih banyakThe penthouse was quiet.The silence was not peaceful. It was a vacuum, an absence of sound that left a ringing emptiness in Amara’s ears. She sat at the vast, gleaming kitchen island, her small form dwarfed by the modern, minimalist space. In front of her, a half-eaten plate of food sat cold and congealed, her fork pushing green peas in slow, meticulous circles. She was not hungry. Her stomach was a cold, hard knot of rage and betrayal. The city glowed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a million lights and a million stories, but she wasn’t seeing it. She was seeing her.Lila.Smiling. Magnanimous. Calling her maid of honor.The lie had spread with a sickening speed, a digital virus that had infected the world’s perception of her. She had checked social media, a morbid, self-destructive reflex she couldn’t control. The comments were a brutal litany of judgment.> “Lila is so kind to forgive Amara.”> “They were best friends once. It’s beautiful they’re healing.”> “Amara should be
It had been a month.A month since she had returned from Phantom, a month since the staged theater had dissolved into memory and she had found a new, quieter stage to inhabit. A month since she had launched herself at Damian, not as an actress playing a role, but as a woman desperate for home. And he had caught her like it was routine, like it was the most natural thing in the world. A month since they had made love in his room, in hers, and even, once, against the cool surface of the kitchen counter at two in the morning, slow and quiet and theirs.And now?Now it felt like a real marriage. Not the contract, not the arrangement. But this. This quiet, lived-in reality. It was a tapestry woven from a thousand small threads: morning coffee shared in silence, the soft clink of mugs as he set hers down beside him; the steady weight of his hand on the small of her back as they walked through the penthouse, a silent assurance that she was not alone; her stealing his sweater when she was
Sunlight slipped through the cracks in the blackout panels, thin golden lines cutting across the black bed, the dark polished floor, the tangle of sheets that lay like a discarded sculpture. The air was cool and still, a sharp contrast to the furnace that had raged within the room just hours before. The city hummed below, a low, constant vibration that was the only sound in the vast, silent penthouse.Amara woke slowly.Not to an alarm. Not to noise. Not to the frantic beat of her own panicked heart.To a quiet, profound awareness.Her body was warm, a deep, lingering heat from the night before. Her skin was sensitive, alive to the faintest whisper of air. Her muscles were a symphony of delicious soreness, a testament to a passion so raw and complete that it made her blush just thinking about it. Every nerve ending felt awakened, every fiber of her being humming with a quiet, satisfied energy. She felt, for the first time in her life, completely, utterly inhabited.She shifted,
He kissed her again.But this time — it wasn’t soft. It was urgent.His mouth crashed into hers — not rough, but sure. It was a kiss of release, of twelve days of unspoken longing, of a decade of silent devotion. One hand fisted in her hair, gripping just enough to tilt her head back. The other pulled her flush against him, closing the impossible distance between their bodies until she could feel the hard lines of his chest, the rapid, powerful beat of his heart.And she melted.Not from surprise. From a deep, primal recognition.This wasn’t just longing. It was hunger. A raw, aching pull low in her belly, a current of fire spreading through her like a shockwave. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands, which had been fumbling at his coat, now gripped the material, her knuckles white. Her body arched into his, a silent plea for more, a complete surrender to the moment.And he felt it. He responded to her need with a controlled ferocity, a quiet roar of his own.Because he broke the
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