LOGINCamila Reyes never planned on being anyone's wife. She's been the only parent her nine-year-old sister Luz has left since their parents died, working two jobs and refusing to let their past bury either of them. When her uncle Ricardo files for an expedited custody hearing, Cami has three weeks to become someone the court can't touch, and no way to do it alone. That's when a stranger's card and a billionaire's proposal collide. Rowan Blackwood needs a wife for one year, no questions asked, and Cami needs exactly what he's offering. What she doesn't know is that Rowan chose her file on purpose. Her last name belongs to the man he's spent a decade blaming for his father's death and the collapse of everything his family built. Marrying her isn't mercy. It's the closest he's ever gotten to revenge. Living under Rowan's roof changes the plan neither of them expected to abandon. Luz starts to feel safe for the first time in years. Cami starts to wonder if the coldest man she's ever met is capable of wanting something he swore he'd never allow himself. And Rowan starts to realize the woman he married to punish an enemy might be the only person who's ever told him the truth. Can a marriage built to settle an old score survive if both people start falling for the lie they created? Will Ricardo destroy their fragile peace before either of them figures out what they actually feel? And when Cami finally learns just how much of this marriage was orchestrated before she ever said yes, will she believe she was loved, or will she realize she was played? Find out in Book One of the Blackwood Legacy, Wife for Hire.
View MoreOne moment, Cara Silencio had everything in life, and in the next moment, she lost it all in the blink of an eye. Her family kicked her out at the young age of eighteen and since then she had to start from scratch and rebuild her life.
In her quest for survival, she stumbled upon Keith Wilson, a charismatic police officer who she hoped could protect her from the demons of her past.
As fate would have it, her hopes were shattered once more, causing her to lose everything she had worked for, and she was forced to fade away into the depths of an endless tunnel of darkness, where she had no choice but to compromise her principles to be able to afford two meals a day.
With no choice but to endure in the ruthless world, Cara's life took a dramatic turn when Aries Grayson walked into her life and presented her with an irresistible offer.***“Your only recourse is to become my mistress!” Aries’s face twisted into an evil smirk. “I’ll reward you ten times more than what you earn at the club by stripping your clothes off!”“No way! You’re going to marry my step-sister soon. Aries Grayson, I will never consent to this!” Cara stated firmly.Aries had an enigmatic glint in his eyes as he stared into her hazel eyes. “What if I expose your secrets to the world?” He lifted an eyebrow, and her heart picked a race.Her forehead broke out in beads of cold sweat.“You won’t!” Cara struggled to play unaffected under his intimidating gaze on her. “Your ambition to rule the business world would be shattered if you expose me.” It was her time to smirk, but Aries’s next sentence quickly wiped it off her lips.
“What if I kill your dog? Your only family, huh?” Aries snickered as he watched her face turn white.“Aries, why are you doing this to me? I never wronged you!” Her voice took on a gentler tone, and she blinked back tears. “Please. let me go!” She begged at last.“You’ve sparked my interest, Cara Mia! And I won’t stop until I solve this mystery!” He declared in a deep voice and Cara lowered her head, wiping a lone tear that trickled down her cheek.
“You’ve only one choice. Submit to me!”
As he spoke, she felt a shiver run down her spine at the deep resonance of his voice. Cara lifted her gaze to him, and her gloomy hazel eyes met with intriguing grey eyes.
***Where would this forbidden relationship take them?
What led the heiress of the most powerful business empire to live under the identity of a deceased girl?
Will the hidden heiress ever regain her rightful identity?
Who will be Cara’s savior?
An old love lost in the web of lies and deception or the man who picked her broken pieces and joined them with all the love in the world that she never knew existed.
Teresa showed up at six thirty with a curling iron in a grocery bag and didn't bother knocking twice."You didn't sleep," she said, not really a question, setting up shop on my bathroom counter."Not really.""Sit down. Nobody needs to know that from the outside." She huffed.Luz sat on the closed toilet lid in her cute pink skirt and white tee, one of the few good dresses I can afford, watching the whole production like it was better than cartoons. She'd known Teresa her whole life, four years of borrowed sugar and babysitting favors between our two apartments. Teresa is the closest thing to a friend I have, and now she's here helping me get married. The irony. I don't want her to know what I am going through, and I did not want anyone to be at that wedding."Are you gonna wear a big dress? Like a real wedding dress?" Luz asked, a whole question mark on her face."It's not that kind of wedding, Mija." Teresa looked at me. "It's a small wedding," I faked a smile."Is there cake?""I d
The photo hit my desk at 5:47. My head of security, Marcus, forwarded it without a subject line, which told me how he felt about it before I even opened the attachment.Grainy, taken from across the street with a long lens, but clear enough. Camila, leaving the building, coat pulled tight, that particular set to her jaw I'd already started cataloguing without meaning to. Underneath it, already circulating on three sites: Reclusive CEO's Mystery Visitor. One-Hour Meeting. Why oh why?Marcus called two minutes later."You need to hear this part before you decide how angry to get," he said. "That stringer didn't stumble onto her. He had two shots. One going in, one coming out, time-stamped almost exactly an hour apart. Nobody camps a building for months on the off chance they'll catch a woman entering and leaving at precisely the right window.""You're saying someone gave him the time.""I'm saying it's the only version of this that makes sense, and I don't like it any better than you do
The bus dropped me four blocks short because the driver said traffic near the financial district wasn't worth fighting, so I walked the rest in shoes that weren't made for four blocks of concrete. Exhaust and the sugared smell of a churro cart on the corner gave way, block by block, to something cleaner. Cologne. Cut flowers from a shop I couldn't afford to walk into. Money has a smell, it turns out, and it's mostly the absence of every other smell.The building didn't look real up close. Sixty floors of black glass. A lobby big enough to swallow my whole apartment building twice over. The marble was polished enough that I could see the scuff on my own boots, looking back up at me. I'd worn the good coat. Standing under that ceiling, it still felt borrowed. Like, I don't belong in any way.Security checked my ID against a list. My name was already on it. Printed clean, the kind of clean that costs money. That sat wrong in my stomach the whole ride up. This whole thing is wrong, but I
The building didn't have a sign. Just a number stenciled on glass, forty stories up. The lobby was so quiet my sneakers sounded rude against the marble.A woman was waiting by the elevator when I stepped out. Tailored suit. Tight smile. A tablet clamped under one arm."Ms. Reyes. This way." No coffee offered. No small talk either. Just a hallway, a door with no label, and a chair angled toward a desk that put me right back in a job interview I hadn't applied for."Marissa Cole." She sat and folded her hands. "I handle intake for arrangements like this one. Say it back to me first. What do you think you're here for?""A marriage of convenience." Saying it out loud, under lighting three shades better than anything in my apartment, made it sound almost reasonable."Correct. One year, legally binding. Cohabitation required, intimacy not, though most arrangements shift on that front eventually. That part's between you and the client, not this office." She slid the folder across the desk. I












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