All Chapters of Good Girl: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Wren “I think my boss wants to have sex with me,” I say to Imani the following morning. It’s my day off, and although almost twenty-four hours have passed since that insanely intense encounter with Nico Ravelli, I still can’t get him out of my head. He’s haunting me. Lurking behind every blink, every breath, like a dark, beautiful ghost with hands I wouldn’t mind wrapped around my throat. The second I got home last night—thankfully with my dad not around—I went straight to my room, stripped off my clothes, sprawled out across my bed, and shamelessly touched myself to the memory of his filthy promises. His voice. That velvet baritone, rough around the edges, soaked in sin. His eyes. That steel-gray stare, sharp enough to cut through the strongest resolve. His body. Strong, controlled, terrifyingly beautiful. I came so hard I thought I might pass out. My entire body shook. My toes curled. I cried out his name like a damn prayer. And afterward? Shame. Guilt. A spla

WrenWorking at Sovereign used to be easy. But not anymore—not since Nico Ravelli slipped into my dreams like he owned the place.He walked into my life, flipped some damn switch, and now I can’t shake him from my system no matter how hard I try. And tonight? I can’t shake the strange feeling that he’s up in his office, drink in hand, watching me through that floor-to-ceiling one-way glass. Maybe even knowing I dreamt about him a few hours ago.When I arrived for my shift, I did what I always do—kept my head down and worked. VIP booths, expensive drinks, fake smiles. The difference? People are acting… different. Some of the waitresses are suddenly friendly—smiling, staring a little too long, whispering when they think I’m not looking. One even greeted me by name, which was surprising enough to make me blink.Teri, of course, still gave me her trademark stink-eye, but she didn’t try to shove her superiority down my throat tonight. Small mercies.Sovereign is buzzing like always—caged s

Nico Sovereign has a reputation—one I’ve built with my bare hands. It doesn’t just cater to the elite; it feeds their hunger, their deepest, filthiest needs. Twice a month, I host one of our most exclusive gatherings in one of my private residences. A discreet sex party. Invitation only. One-time access codes that self-destruct the minute the night ends. No repeats, no leaks, no mistakes. Only the most powerful, most dangerous men and women in Raventon earn the right to walk through these doors. Now I stand at the edge of the living room, a glass of thirty-year-old scotch in hand, pretending to listen to Grayson drone on. My body is here, but my mind isn’t. Not tonight. The air is thick with sweat, perfume, and sex. Moans bounce off the walls, mingling with the bassline of the low music, while masked bodies writhe in every corner of the mansion. Flesh slaps against flesh, breathless cries mix with groans of pleasure. On a velvet rug in the center of the room, a brunette with hea

Wren“So tell me, how long have you been working here?” Julian asks, grinning at me as he wipes down tables alongside me.He’s new—barely started yesterday—and Teri decided I was the best person to show him the ropes. He’s quick on his feet, sharper than I was on my first night. We’ve got less than two hours before Sovereign opens, and for now it’s just the two of us, prepping in the glow of low red lights.“A few months,” I answer simply.“Wow,” Julian hums, still grinning like I’ve just said something fascinating. “If you don’t mind me asking… why here? No offense, but you don’t look like the kind of girl who’d work in a place like Sovereign.” His eyes linger on me, curious, searching.I shrug, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I don’t want to tell him anything—he’s practically a stranger—but snapping would feel rude. So I give him the safest truth.“Well, like most employees here, I need the money.”“Hmm,” Julian chuckles, cocking his head. “Secretive, huh?” His gaze flicks

Wren His mouth crashes against mine in a brutal, punishing kiss that rips the air from my lungs. There’s nothing soft about it—no hesitation, no tenderness—only need. Raw, unfiltered, consuming. His tongue claims mine, fierce and demanding, leaving me breathless as his grip tightens like he’ll never let me go. A broken moan slips from me, swallowed instantly into the heat of his mouth. My fingers clutch at his shirt, curling into the fabric, desperate to anchor myself against the storm of muscle and tension beneath. His hold on the back of my neck is firm, unyielding—a silent brand that screams mine. Then his hand slides higher, fingers tangling in my hair, fisting the strands as he deepens the kiss. It’s a mix of pain and pleasure, that sharp sting tugging low in my belly, feeding the ache burning between my thighs. The other hand traces down my back in a slow, deliberate slide, igniting fire wherever he touches. It lands on my ass, gripping hard before hauling me flush again