After five years in a cold, loveless marriage, Camilla Santos thought freedom would be her only salvation. But when her grandmother’s will binds her to Maverick Shelby—the ruthless billionaire who humiliated her at every turn—for four more years, she’s forced back into his gilded cage. Maverick doesn’t recognize the timid girl he once ignored. Camilla is different now—stronger, bolder, unwilling to be broken. And the more she pulls away, the more he’s drawn to her. But trust is fragile, secrets run deep, and love was never part of the bargain…
View More"Your sister only just decided to cut off her engagement with Maverick Shelby this morning. The wedding is in a few hours, you have to be ready in time for it. She ripped her dress in anger so make do with whatever white dress you have there" Mother said with no trace of warmth in her voice. Her and Father had just entered my room that morning to drop the bombshell.
"But Mother-" "This is a business deal that cannot be lost Camilla. If Lisa says she can't do it, you have to step up. You're the older one. Protect her." Father cut in sternly. "Your sister cannot marry him because she doesn't love him. You know how soft she is, she might as well get depressed and commit suicide. You don't actually want to send her to her demise do you?" Mother asked as she pinned her narrow gaze on me. "No, mother. I'll get ready now. I don't have a dress though". I muttered quietly, clenching my fists. That was always the case with my sister, Lisa. As the younger, she always got the better treatment from our parents. Whenever things when south with her, mother and father always made me take over and clean her mess. That business deal in question had already been sealed months ago but Maverick refused any sort of interaction with Lisa. I'm sure she has only just realized what sort of life she would lead if she got married to him. "The maids will send you a white dress in a minute. For now go downstairs for breakfast, we don't want to keep Maverick waiting when he arrives." Mother said dismissively as she left. "You aren't doing this for yourself, Camilla. The company is in dire need of this deal, do not ruin it for us." Father said leaving me in absolute silence to reason my newly acquired bondage. While I went to shower, the maid brought in a plain silk dress, pressed adequately and dropped it on my bed. I washed up and got dressed in the gown. It stopped just below my knee and it made me look awkward but I had to make do with it. I braided my hair in one braid and used my silver and white hair comb. I slipped ona pair of silver slipper heels and went downstairs. No matter how bad things got, a little ceremony-even if it was to celebrate my prison- made things a little bit better. From the staircase, I could get the sweet aroma of of bacon and blueberry pancakes as I walked down. It made my stomach growl in hunger. I hadn't had any meal since lunch yesterday but no matter how hungry I felt, there was no way I keep any food down at this point. Besides, it didn't matter to them anyway, all father and mother cared about was that their beloved business deal still stood. Nothing else, except Lisa's 'mental health' of course, mattered. Finally, I got to the living room and took a seat at the edge of the stiff wooden chair there, waiting for my 'prince charming', fists clenched and diging crescents in my palms. I slouched slightly and took in deep breaths to help calm my nerves. “This is no time to sulk,” my mother snapped heading in my direction from the kitchen, her voice a slap. She tugged at my neckline as though the fault were mine. “Sit up straight, Camilla. For heaven’s sake, do not embarrass us today.” Well, father already said that, anything else? I lifted my head instinctively and pressed my lip shut. As if anything I said could ruin everything. She leaned closer, perfume—cheap jasmine—filling my nose. Once it had been Elizabeth Arden. “Remember, you are representing us, your family. Whatever happens, keep your mouth closed, keep your head down, and sign what you are told to sign.” Representing. Right. Not choosing.Just a tool, a means to an end. The doorbell rang, jolting through me like electricity. My father’s deep voice followed immediately. "Camilla, he's here. Walk briskly; do not keep our guest waiting." I willed my body to move but it refused to listen to me. My knees locked, my breathing became heavy. Maybe, just maybe, if I stayed here long enough, the ground would open up and swallow me whole before I had to walk out there. “Camilla!” My father barked, his voice, as sharp as a whip. I forced myself up. My legs trembled slightly, the hem of my dress whispering against my knee. My mother’s gaze burned into the back of my neck as I approached father. The door swung open. Then I saw him. Maverick Shelby aka the man who would have me on a leash for the rest of my life. My eyes moved of their own free will, drinking in his features. He was dressed in a black three-piece suit without a tie. His looked like it'd been ran through by his long fingers all morning. He looked at least 6'3ft with massively broad shoulders and a layer of thin muscle. My eyes trained more upward and I saw the tattoo on his neck that ran down to his chest where the first two buttons of his shirt was undone. I glanced at his lips,full and carefully sculpted, the kind that begged to be touched. They looked pink and...soft, it was almost as if they promised to taste as good as they looked. I shook my head slightly. What am I doing? I finally looked at his eyes. His beautiful sapphire orbs revealed no emotion. Hell, his entire face was unreadable. There was no warm or even a flicker of tenderness in his gaze. He didn't even attempt a smile. Message received mister. I'm also not thrilled to be married to you. Deal with it. “Let’s go,” he said, smooth but sharp. Impatience clear each word. “I don’t have all day.” Not a greeting. Just an order. Jerk. My father chuckled, unfazed. “Of course, of course. Camilla, get your purse.” My purse. Wow, I didn't even get flowers. Some interesting wedding this was going to be. My mother shoved the small black purse into my hands, lips pinched. "Be good." I took the purse and step out. The sunlight hit me square in the face as the heat pressed against my skin. The sun in Abu Dhabi was absolutely not friendly but at least, our city was beautiful. It didn't make up for the heat but at least the environment was beautiful to look at. Maverick headed to the black sleek Cadillac at our porch, he didn't look back to confirm if I followed but I did regardless. When we got closer to the car, the driver stepped out and opened the door for Maverick. I followed suit behind him, the door was closed after me. "Where to now? A church?" I asked. "The court." Maverick said, typing away on his phone. He didn't even spare me a glance. The drive began. The city went on as usual out side while I was a mess of nerves on the inside. Soon enough, the court was in sight, it's gray stone towering under the pale blue skies. The driver stopped at the parking lot and we went inside. The interior was a beautiful as your regular courthouse. The air reeked of disinfectant. As thought the place was cleaned only a few moments ago. We joined a queue of happily newly weds and slowly but steadily, It got to our turn. This was it. The moment I sealed my fate.Two months had passed, and it's safely said that I have bought more flower vases than ever—more than I’d ever owned in my life—lined every available surface, filled with flowers Maverick had sent me. If someone told me that I'd be keeping flower that someone got me that—Maverick got me—I'd call them a liar but here I was . It wasn’t just flowers. Some of the gifts were extravagant pieces of jewelry I hadn’t yet dared to wear, carefully wrapped up boxes of dresses and shoes that took up half of my closet. And yes, I had begun to carve out special space for them, as unfortunately as it ma be.I didn’t want to admit it, but I had started looking forward to the deliveries. The packages, the notes, even the delicate smell of fresh blooms… it had become the highlight of my days. Each arrival brought a mix of relief—that even if I hadn't once reached out to him to appreciate him, he kept the gifts coming—and exhilaration, and the anticipation had grown into something I wasn’t entirely comfo
The moment the office clock struck six, I closed my laptop with more force than necessary. My hands trembled slightly, and my chest felt tight—not from work, but from the memory of the blood-written note that had been left on my desk. I stared at it for a long, long moment, as if memorizing the strokes would somehow prepare me for what I was about to do.I grabbed my bag, my heels clicking sharply against the office floor as I made my way to the elevator. My stomach was in knots, twisting in anxiety I didn’t quite know how to manage.By the time I reached the lobby, I had to steady myself against the marble counter, taking a deep, shaky breath. I didn’t even bother glancing at the security guard. I just asked for directions to the police station and walked out, the cool evening air hitting me like a slap in the face.Some part of me wanted to bolt back into my office, hide in my studio, pretend this hadn’t happened. But the larger part, the part that refused to be weak, reminded me th
I woke to the faint hum of the city seeping through my bedroom window, sunlight spilling across the polished floor and catching on the edge of my sketchpad. My eyes fluttered open, but I didn’t move. I lay there, letting the sounds filter in, hoping—foolishly—that I could pull myself together before my mind wandered.Toward the person I never wanted to think about.Maverick.His words from yesterday clung to me like smoke that refused to lift, whispering through the silence of my bedroom: "You always loved painting, even though you were horrible at it."My stomach twisted. Cameras. He had hidden cameras, and I hadn’t even noticed. Bro was getting stalker on me.And then… the most mortifying words I’d ever heard in my life: "The little moans you let out when you played with yourself… I heard them. Even when you moan my name, I heard all of it."Heat rushed to my cheeks even as I buried my face in the pillow. God, why did he have to say that? Why did my chest tighten, why did my pul
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked out the window that morning and saw Maverick. He was standing there like he owned the street, leaning against his sleek black car with that infuriatingly calm expression. “Morning,” he said, voice annoyingly casual, as if showing up uninvited was completely normal. I didn’t answer. I climbed into my car, slammed the door, and started the engine. No reaction. No acknowledgment. I had work to do, and I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of replying. Sure enough, he followed. Not aggressively—just enough to remind me he existed. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the road. I could handle him. I just needed to ignore him. By lunch, I hadn’t eaten. My schedule didn’t allow it, and honestly, I didn’t have time to go anywhere. So my surprise was justified when I heard a knock on my office door. “Lunch?” Maverick’s calm, deep voice made me tense. I looked up, and there he was, holding a neatly packed meal in both hands. “I—don
I totally ignored him and walked away as if I didn’t hear him as I walked into the main hall that the gala was going on in. The gala lights shimmered like trapped stars as I slipped into the seat reserved for me, trying my best to forget about my encounter with Maverick. The emerald silk of my gown whispered over my legs as I settled, the room a blur of flashing cameras and glittering faces. My pulse didn’t rise; I was practiced at hiding, at letting the world see only what I allowed.A waiter appeared beside me, silent and precise. He laid a folded note on the table, eyes fixed straight ahead, and disappeared without a word.I tore it open."I know it’s you, Camilla, but I thought you were dead? Would you be so kind as to grant me an audience?"Maverick.A shiver ran down my spine, but I crushed it beneath the armor of Carla. I ripped the note into pieces, letting them fall into the champagne glass before me. I pressed the folds beneath the rim and waved a waiter over to take it away
I did it. Even if it took me two years, I did it. Two years since I walked away from the cage my parents built, since I scattered the ashes of the woman Maverick broke. Two years of silence, of clawing my way out of the dark.I buried myself in work. I sketched pain into patterns, crafted grief into jewels. And from that, I built something that was mine.CJ Styles.My company. My brand. My armor. The world whispered about me in glossy editorials and runways, but they didn’t know the face behind the name. I preferred it that way. The brand was everything. I was nothing, not anymore.Or at least, that’s what I told myself on nights when the past pressed too close.For somewhere that I did the majority of my work on, my desk was pretty chaotic. Half-drained teacups, scattered sketches, fabric swatches spilling over the edge. The afternoon light carved golden lines across the mess, but I barely noticed. I was lost in the curve of a new silhouette, the weight of emerald that promised powe
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