All Chapters of Suit and Scars: Claimed By The Biker Boss: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

They say Blackwood City has two heartbeats, each competing to drown the other out in a relentless rhythm of power and blood.The first is the one you hear at noon. It is the rhythmic, clinical pulse of the stock ticker echoing through soaring glass atriums. It is the hushed, lethal whispers of billion-dollar mergers decided over crystal tumblers of scotch, and the sharp, confident click of expensive heels on imported Italian marble. This is the pristine, unforgiving world of Julian Vane. He is a man who looks like he was carved from arctic ice and dressed in four-thousand-dollar charcoal wool. A man who sits in a monolithic glass tower, looking down on the mortal masses, deciding which global empires live and which ones burn to the absolute ground.For two long years, I was the one who kept that heartbeat steady. I was his shadow. His gatekeeper. The woman who made sure his coffee was black, his files were flawless, and his deep, dark secrets remained buried under the crushing weight

The kiss was a collision of worlds. In the boardroom, Julian Vane was a man of cold logic and sharp angles. In this rain-slicked alley, he was all heat and raw, unchecked hunger. Elena’s back was pressed so hard against the brick that she could feel every individual grit of the stone, yet it was the solid, unyielding weight of Julian’s body that truly pinned her in place.​His hand, calloused and smelling of heavy-duty engine oil, moved from her hip to the nape of her neck. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the assault on her senses. Elena’s brain screamed at her to run, to scream, to fight, but her body had other ideas. Her fingers, which had been curled into defensive fists against his chest, slowly unspooled, clutching at the rough denim of his vest.​When he finally pulled back, it wasn't far. He stayed within her space, their foreheads touching, their breath coming in synchronized, ragged gasps.​"You're shaking, sweetheart," Julian growled

The roar of the city outside was nothing compared to the roaring in Elena’s ears.Julian’s hand was a searing brand against her skin, his fingers moving with a slow, agonizing possessiveness that made her breath hitch in short, jagged gasps. She was perched on the edge of the mahogany boardroom table, her skirt pushed up, her blouse ruined, and her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.Just as Julian leaned in to capture her mouth again, his phone—discarded on the table beside her hip—vibrated with a violent, persistent buzz.He ignored it at first, his teeth grazing the sensitive cord of her neck. But then the office intercom crackled."Mr. Vane? I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s a... gentleman here," the receptionist’s voice sounded strained, hovering on the edge of a panic attack. "He says it’s about the 'Vulture’s Debt.' He’s refusing to leave the lobby."Julian froze. The air in the room shifted instantly. The heated, sexual haze evaporated, replaced by a cold,

The air in Julian’s private quarters above the clubhouse didn't smell like the sterile, filtered oxygen of the Vane Enterprises penthouse. It smelled of worn leather, expensive bourbon, and the heavy, metallic scent of rain-slicked asphalt. The room was a sanctuary of shadows, lit only by the low, amber glow of a vintage Edison bulb and the red neon hum of the "Open" sign flickering from the bar below.Julian stood by the heavy oak door, the click of the deadbolt echoing like a gunshot in the small space. He didn't move immediately. He watched Elena, who was perched on the edge of his massive bed—a sprawling landscape of dark furs and silk.Without the pinstripe suit armor, Julian looked twice as large and ten times as dangerous. The ink on his arms seemed to writhe in the dim light, the vulture on his back stretching its wings as he moved to peel off his black tee."The collar looks good on you, Elena," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that skipped across her skin. "B