LOGIN“Don’t you ever resist me again,” he breathed, his words brushing my skin like fire. One hand held my wrists captive above my head; the other traced the line of my throat, caging me against the wall. I looked up at him. My tormentor, my weakness, and the man I craved like sin itself. --- A fire stole her childhood. A contract stole her freedom. Now, a man dressed in a suit that costs more than her life is about to steal her heart. And possibly destroy what’s left of her soul. Evie remembers nothing before the fire, only the smell of smoke, the sound of screams, and a name she can’t forget. Years later, her life is a cycle of debt, slavery, and forced silence. She works herself to the bone while living in the shadow of her perfect cousin, never realizing she was born into a secret far darker than her life. Until the night she’s traded — like property to repay an old family debt — to a man no one dares to speak about. A man whose reputation bleeds power, cruelty, and blood. But instead of chains, he offers her a deal. Marry him, obey him. And never ask questions. Just business. But every time he touches her, the line between fear and longing blurs. His presence unearths flashes of her past, and memories that burn her alive. Because her husband is not who he seems. And the fire that destroyed her life didn’t happen by accident. As their marriage turns into a war of control and desire, Evie finds herself caught between the man who owns her and the truth that could set her free. But freedom comes with a great price. And love is the priciest thing she's ever had.
View MoreEVIEBLACKWELL’S BLOODY DEBUT: BILLIONAIRE RECLUSIVE SLAMS HEIR AT L’ÉTOILE.WHO IS EVIE? THE SECRET FIANCÉE WORTH RUINING A LOGISTICS EMPIRE FOR.CROFT LOGISTICS STOCK PLUMMETS 14% FOLLOWING BARROOM ALTERCATION."A business calculation," I whispered to the empty room, my voice flat, echoing mockingly in my own ears.A sharp, synchronized double-knock rattled the heavy oak door before it swung open. I braced myself for Gammon's towering, suffocating presence, but instead, Margaret stepped into the room. She was carrying a silver tray with a porcelain teapot, a single cup, and a stack of printed morning broadsheets. Her usually unshakeable, maternal composure was frayed around the edges; her eyes were wide, darting anxiously toward me as she set the tray on the bedside table."Good morning, madam," she said, her voice tight, lacking its usual smooth rhythm. "Mr. Blackwell requested I bring you chamomile tea. He... he also explicitly instructed that you read the press coverage before he
EVIEThe interior of the Maybach was an armored vault of absolute, suffocating silence.I sat pressed against the cold leather of the door, my hands wrapped so tightly around my velvet clutch that the fabric groaned under the pressure. Outside the tinted glass, the neon lights of Manhattan blurred into jagged streaks of static, but all I could see was the memory of Julian’s face hitting the mahogany bar. The sound of shattering crystal still echoed in my ears like a physical alarm.Beside me, Gammon was a statue carved from shadow. He hadn't looked at me once since he dragged me out of the restaurant. His large hands rested flat against his thighs, his knuckles still white, his chest heaving in slow, controlled expansions that felt less like breathing and more like a predator suppressing the urge to tear something apart."You didn't have to do that," I whispered, the words scraping painfully against my raw throat.He didn't move. He didn't even turn his head. "Do what, Evie? Educate a
GAMMONI stood at the base of the floating glass staircase, my hand resting flat against the cold steel railing, watching her descend. The fabric shifted with every step she took, the thousands of microscopic glass beads caught the dim, recessed spotlights above and fractured the light into sharp, icy splinters. She looked like a winter night carved into a weapon. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a sleek, elegant twist, exposing the pale, fragile line of her throat and the faint, fading yellowish shadow of a bruise near her collarbone.My chest tightened, a sudden, heavy pressure arresting my lungs. For a split second, the glittering glass tower vanished, replaced by the suffocating scent of ash and the memory of a little girl with a fierce, gap-toothed smile who used to hold my hand in the dark."Get a grip, Blackwell," the voice inside my head snarled, colder than the marble beneath my feet. "She is a Fulham trade. A tool for retribution. Nothing more.""You're staring," she
EVIEThe dress was a masterpiece of midnight-blue silk, so dark it bordered on black, with thousands of microscopic glass beads sewn into the bodice that caught the sunlight and fractured it into sharp needles of light. It looked expensive.I sat on the edge of the plush mattress, my knees pulled tightly to my chest, glaring at the fabric as if it might spring to life and choke me. A sharp knock rattled the heavy oak door before it swung open, revealing Margaret and two sharply dressed women holding leather cases that could only contain high-end cosmetics and hair styling tools."Good morning, madam," Margaret said, her voice a soothing balm that didn't quite match the rigid, militaristic precision of the women behind her. "Mr. Blackwell has requested that the glam team prepare you for this evening’s dinner. We have exactly three hours before the car arrives."I didn’t move. "Take it back."Margaret paused, a silver hairbrush hovering in her hands. One of the stylists, a tall woman wi
EVIEI was still standing by the window until early evening when I saw his car drive back into the manor.It’s been a week of being here, ignored. I haven’t set eyes on him except when he’s leaving in the morning or at night. Margaret came every morning by 9 to drop my breakfast, by 1 p.m. to drop
GAMMONHer face... there was just something about her face that haunted me. The way her eyes welled up with tears, the way she breathed fearfully; those things usually massaged my ego and made me feel better.But in this case, it pricked my heart. It was as if I was actually hurting myself by hurti
EVIEMy head throbbed as if a hundred soldiers were marching around it, and a low groan escaped my lips as I turned to the left. The movement made the world tilt, and before I could stop myself —Thud!A sharp pain shot through my body as I hit the floor. I groaned again, this time from the ache. T
EVIE“Omg, Evie, where have you been? And—” She grabbed my arm, turning it around quicker than I could react. I quickly pulled my hand back and pulled the sleeves of my hoodie down to cover it.Her expression was angry. “Where the fuck have you been? And what happened?”“Nothing,” I shook my head.
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