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Forbidden heat
Last Updated:
2025-07-25 02:59:31
Latest chapter
The billionaire virgin wife Damian’s scars
Scars aren’t weakness—they’re survivalAfter the envelope issues.The silence in the master bedroom felt sacred. It wasn’t like the silence of fear, or even grief. It was the kind of silence that held truths too raw for language—where breath and heartbeat replaced conversation. The kind of silence that comes after walls fall down, brick by brick.Isabella’s hands were still pressed to Damian’s chest from the moment she had whispered his name at the end of their kiss. But something in his eyes had changed. There was no hunger now. Only something older, deeper… haunted.She didn’t say a word. Just waited.Damian let out a quiet breath and stepped back, loosening the first button of his shirt. “There’s something I need to show you.”Isabella blinked, confused at first. Then startled. “Now?”“If I don’t do it now…” His voice was rough. “I might never have the courage.”She nodded slowly, heart pounding.She wasn’t sure what she expected—a confession, maybe. Not… this. Not him laying himse
The billionaire virgin wife Her real name
Some names should stay buried, but the past always remembers.The name on the envelope made her stomach twist into a thousand silent knots.The air around her thickened, like something invisible had entered the room. A chill spread across her bare arms, even though no window was open. It was as if the name itself had teeth—biting through the peace she’d barely begun to trust.Martinez.Elegant. Cold. Inked in a handwriting that didn’t belong in this life she had fought to build.It shouldn’t exist here. Not in Damian’s penthouse. Not on top of the polished glass console table beside their gold-trimmed wedding frame. And certainly not staring back at her like a ghost.Isabella stared at it for what felt like hours. Her lungs barely expanded. Her pulse climbed and crashed and then climbed again. It was like someone had plucked her out of the present and thrown her into the past—into a snow-covered graveyard outside Moscow where her father’s name had been carved into stone just after his
The billionaire virgin wife The hackers clue
The night air outside Jaxon Tower shimmered with summer heat, but inside the Knight penthouse, it was cold. Not from the AC—but from the silence of a man who hadn’t spoken in nearly two hours. Who was trying to figure out exactly where he had gone wrong.Damian Knight sat alone in his office, one hand on a tumbler of bourbon, the other dancing across his custom-built encrypted workstation. His eyes didn’t blink.The bourbon glass in his hand remained untouched, its amber hue catching reflections from the city skyline beyond the window. Lights blinked like stars—but none of them eased the pressure building behind his eyes.Every muscle in his body was coiled, restrained. This wasn’t just suspicion anymore. It was certainty.They had found her.Not the woman she was now—but the ghost of the girl she once had to be.Not when the first alert came in.Not when it repeated.Incoming threat detected. Russian port. Encrypted loopback. Failed bypass attempt.He should’ve been in bed beside Isa
The billionaire virgin wife The stepsister’s plan
The Ivanov estate had grown colder since Isabella disappeared.Not because of the Russian winter blanketing covered in ice and snow,Moscow’s chill was eternal—but because a name had returned to the household like a ghost.Isabella.Clarissa stared at the glowing tablet in her lap, its harsh blue light slicing through the shadows of the parlor. She’d read the article five times now, but the headline still made her stomach twist in violent knots.“Billionaire Damian Knight Weds Mysterious Russian Secretary in Private Ceremony.”There she was, her stepsister’s face plastered across every digital media outlet in an image that looked like a dream… or a nightmare.Dressed in white.Beaming with joy.Wearing a smile that didn’t belong to someone like her.Clarissa’s hand trembled. It hand moved before her thoughts caught up. she hurled the tablet across the marble floor. It shattered against the black stone fireplace, shards scattering like crystal confetti.Her fingers trembled, knuckles pa
The billionaire virgin wife The Russian letter
After almost being caught by Damian’s mother they decided to call it a day.Isabella’s cheeks were still burning as they stepped into the elevator. The lingering warmth of Damian’s lips on her skin, the heat of his body pressed against hers, the mortifying memory of Eleanor Knight’s amused smirk—all of it swirled inside her like a storm.She kept her eyes down as they descended floor after floor, but the silence was different now. Not shy or awkward, not even sexual tension. Something else.By the time they reached the underground garage, the mood had shifted.Damian’s expression had cooled. His jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line.He scanned the shadows as the elevator doors slid open.Damian’s expression had cooled, his jaw tense. “Go straight to the car,” he instructed.“What is it?” Isabella asked, instantly alert.He didn’t answer. Instead he took her hands in his and moved quickly through the garage. His fingers were closed protectively around hers and they w
The billionaire virgin wife Caught by his mother
“Damian.”The sound of that voice—firm, feminine, and far too calm for the moment—sliced through the haze like a bucket of ice water. His mother.Damian froze. So did Isabella.They turned, slowly, as if moving faster might shatter what little dignity they had left.Mrs. Eleanor Knight stood at the open door of the office.Elegant. Composed. Amused. She wore a navy Chanel suit, pearls at her ears and throat, her silver hair swept into a sleek chignon. In her hands: a white porcelain tray stacked with homemade chocolate chip cookies.The silence was unbearable.Then—“Have fun downstairs?” Helena Knight asked, Isabella’s stomach dropped to the floor. She tried not to visibly shrink, but her knees turned to water. Helena’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she added with a teasing smirk, “You might want to reapply your lipstick, darling. Or don’t. Either way… I approve.”“I always wondered if you got the ‘Knight impulse’ from your father,” Eleanor said, her voice deceptively light. “But
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