All Chapters of RECKLESS VOWS: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

CHAPTER 11: DOUBLE LIFE Lyra's fingers flew across the keyboard, stopping only when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She quickly minimized the document and opened a shopping website instead. The footsteps passed her door. She breathed out slowly, then reopened her manuscript. Five weeks into her charade as Jane Blackwood, she'd installed a rhythm….play the part of the wasteful socialite wife by day, work on her novel by night. She reread the last paragraph she'd written: "The problem with lies is that they breed. One small deception requires another, and another until you're surrounded by a web of your own making—a web that traps you more effectively than any prison." Too on the nose, perhaps. She deleted it with a grimace. Her phone buzzed with an incoming text. Jane again, her third message today: ‘Not enough! The housekeeper says nothing's changed since the party. Need more chaos. Remember our deal….$50K more when he files for divorce.’ Lyra threw her phone onto the bed

CHAPTER 13: COUNTDOWN "It's not enough," Jane's voice crackled through the phone, sharp with frustration. "You've been playing house for two months and what do you have to show for it? A few redecorated rooms? That won't push him over the edge." Lyra paced the length of Ryker's…her…bedroom, phone pressed against her ear. "I've done everything you asked. The staff hates me. I've spent a fortune on his money. What more do you want?" "Destruction," Jane said flatly. "Real chaos. Something he can't ignore." Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan glittered in the afternoon sun. Lyra had grown used to this view, to the luxurious prison she'd willingly entered. Two and a half months as Jane Blackwood had changed her in ways she hadn't anticipated. "He'll be here tomorrow," Lyra said, checking her reflection in the full-length mirror. The designer clothes that had once felt like a costume now seemed to belong on her body. "Maybe we should just call this off. I'll tell him the

CHAPTER 15: PREDATOR AND PREY The black dress Ryker had chosen for Lyra was nothing like what she would have picked for herself. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin, worldly-wise in its simplicity…elegant rather than provoking. A statement that she belonged to him, not on display for others. As the private elevator came down from the penthouse, Lyra fought to control her breathing. Trapped in the small space with Ryker, she could feel his eyes on her, studying her every reaction. "Nervous?" he asked, his voice casual. "Should I be?" she disagreed, proud that her voice didn't shake. His lips curved into what might have been a smile on anyone else. On him, it was a predator's check. "That depends on what you're hiding." The elevator doors opened before she could respond, saving her from having to reply. His hand found the small of her back as they walked through the lobby, the touch proprietary. Possessive. A sleek black Bentley waited at the curb, a stone-faced dr

CHAPTER 17: MIND GAMES Morning light cut through the curtains Lyra had forgotten to close. She blinked awake, shortly confused by the strange weight in her chest. Then reality crashed down. He knew. The smell of coffee drifted through the apartment. Ryker was awake. Lyra pulled herself out of bed, heart beating as she slipped into a robe. In the bathroom mirror, her reflection looked pale and haunted. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the fear. ‘Time to face the executioner.’ She found Ryker in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, reading something on his tablet. He wore black sweatpants and a crisp black T-shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms. So casual. So normal. As if he hadn't shattered her world the night before. He glanced up, eyes tracking her movements like a predator. "Coffee?" "Please." Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. He poured a cup and slid it across the counter. Black, no sugar. Exactly how

CHAPTER 19: PUBLIC FACADEHands pulled at Lyra's hair and twisted it into an elegant updo while another set of fingers applied mascara to her lashes. The stylist Ryker had hired worked in focused silence, occasionally barking orders at her assistant."Eyes up. Don't blink."Lyra obeyed, sitting still as a statue while her face was transformed. Three hours of primping for a single night of pretending. That's what her life had become—a performance."You clean up nicely," Ryker's voice came from the doorway.The stylists paused their work as he entered, tall and imposing in his custom tuxedo. Lyra caught his reflection in the mirror—the sharp lines of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze. He looked devastating."Almost finished, Mr. Blackwood," the head stylist assured him. "Just a few final touches.""Take your time, Vivian." His eyes never left Lyra's. "Perfection shouldn't be rushed."Heat crept up her neck despite her best efforts to remain unmoved. She hated how easily he affected her