Is 'James Moriarty Consulting Criminal' Based On A True Story?

“Undress yourself.” He ordered, his eyes half lidded, gazed at her. Her innocent eyes fixed at him. “C’mon,” he leaned more “Will you?” he dominated her senses. Her eyes softened, she softly nodded. Her fingers fumbled at the hem of her top, hesitating. She peeked up at him for permission, like she was afraid. But he didn’t react. He only watched. With trembling hands, she slipped off her top. When she looked up, he was already staring. She reached down, fingers brushing over the waistband of her skirt. Hesitantly, she pulled the strip free, and the skirt dropped soundlessly to her feet, pooling like surrender, leaving her only in her white little pant. A growl echoed from his throat as his hand shot up, gripping her jaw, not hard, but enough to make her gasp. “You’re perfect like this.” he muttered against her lips. “So fucking good when you obey.” Her lashes kissed her flushed cheeks. “Get on your knees!” ***** He’s dangerous. He’s Cruel. She’s innocent. Too fragile. Rosa’s life had always been ordinary… until she met Killian Salvatore, the enigmatic and dangerously captivating man who awakens desires she can’t control. To the world, Killian was a respected professor, calm, brilliant, untouchable. But behind closed doors, he ruled the underworld as a ruthless Mafia lord. As their forbidden bond of lust and desire deepens, the twisted secret and bitter truth slowly reveals, destroying everything. Then? NOTE: DARK ROMANCE INSANELY OBSESSIVE BOOK. SO BE AWARE.

At the contract-signing meeting, a major client casually asks our new technician if she can handle her alcohol. She immediately pours a glass of red wine over his head and says coolly, "This sort of socializing is a bad habit. I'm putting an end to it." Leon Langley, a top client who brings the company 300 million dollars in annual revenue, flies into a rage and tears up the contract on the spot. As the project lead, I bend over backward to apologize and drink with Mr. Langley until I'm hospitalized with gastric bleeding—just to salvage the deal. When I report the incident to my boss, he scolds me instead. "As the person in charge, you nearly ruined the project. Forget the three-million-dollar commission we planned to give you. Consider this a warning." After that, I put Hannah Storrie's name on the department's downsizing review list. She sneers. "I'm a top talent the boss poached at great expense. I'm not some cheap hostess who survives by smiling and drinking like you. "Firing me would be throwing the company down the drain. When that happens, you'll be begging me to come back." I ignore her. However, when the review period ends, the name on the layoff list turns out to be mine. My boss seizes the opportunity to announce that Hannah will replace me as the new sales director. "Clients are extremely important to us. You don't seriously think you're capable of landing them, do you? "Hannah's is more qualified, more tech-savvy, and prettier than you. She's clearly the better choice." I simply smile, turn around, and dial a number.

What happens when people suddenly starts to die? A new case has just began. Nessa is your average detective in New York city, and her Number 1 goal is to bring all criminals to book. He is just recently transferred and he is made her new assistant . He is Ezekiel . The question is who is the killer?

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.

On her unconscious bed, her husband gave the order to abort her child. Their child. Driven by lust and desperation for power, Killian Powell framed Rose Webster just to divorce her and marry her twin. At what price? To easily buy his way into her family's corporation. Rose had the evidence to expose her husband's true face to the world and tear him down. But of what use was it when her vicious parents threatened to stop the treatment of her sick daughter if she dared release the evidence? Like always, they cared more about what they stood to gain from a traitor who stabbed their daughter—a man they once despised when he was nothing. As much as Rose couldn't trade the life of her daughter, she couldn't bear the internet stigma and mockery. Not to mention her job as a detective was suspended as if she were some criminal. The whole world seemed to close in on Rose until redemption came in the form of a dangerous offer. When solving a risky murder case was the only way to get back at her ex-husband and also keep her child safe, how far would she go to ruin her ex?

My superior loved tricking me into wearing tight-fitting pencil skirts to serve wine to sleazy clients while sticking close to them. Then, she would hint that I was single and a valid target while she excitedly waited for the clients to make a move on me. It was all in the name of checking the integrity of the clients and whether they were worthy business partners or not. The moment a client fell for it, she would rush over with righteous anger and throw wine in their faces. Then, she would lecture me with a voice heavy with anguish. “Do you lack money so much that you’d throw your dignity away just for better results?” She would trample all over my dignity to set up her image as a refined, noble woman. This time, she even prepared a gown with a super low neckline and pushed me to serve a client with a rich and powerful background. She threatened me by saying that if I did not go, she would deduct my bonus for three whole months of full attendance. But when I saw the familiar, cold man sitting in the seat of honor, it was my turn to laugh. If my brother saw me serving wine in this kind of dress, I did not doubt that by tomorrow, the company would be under my name.