Offshore

The man I'd been with for three years, my fiancé, had promised to leave everything behind in the States and move to Europe to join my family. For our future together, I had quietly arranged a transfer of massive assets in his name. The night I was finally ready to tell him everything, I came back to our safehouse and heard voices I wasn't supposed to hear. "Kane, are you seriously giving up your entire place in the mafia for some ordinary girl?" That was Alicia Holt, the daughter of a small-time mob boss who scraped by at the edges of New York. Kane let out a cold laugh, his voice dripping with contempt and calculation. "Give it all up? For that useless woman? Alicia, you're underestimating me. I'm only playing along to get her to sign over that Manhattan townhouse and her offshore funds into my name." He knew exactly how much I'd sacrificed to be with him. He knew I'd even defied my father. And none of it meant a damn thing to him. He just found me clingy, embarrassing, like a dog he couldn't shake. "That idiot actually thinks she's something. If it weren't for her money, I wouldn't even waste a glance on her." Kane pulled Alicia closer, his voice thick with arrogant contempt. "Once I've drained every last asset, I'm breaking off the engagement. Then it's just you and me, baby." Alicia giggled and playfully swatted at his chest. "What if she finds out?" "Finds out? She's just some sheltered rich girl with no backup and no clue." Kane scoffed like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. "What's she going to do?" I stood there and felt my fury turn into something ice-cold and perfectly still. Kane had no idea. For a few scraps of easy money, he'd just thrown away an entire European crime empire.

Ten years with Don Maximus. I went from the crazy girl who demanded his "undying loyalty" at gunpoint to Chicago's perfect Donna. When Maximus took the casino's hottest stripper to his private room, I didn't lose my mind. Instead, I tossed the woman the keys to a Manhattan penthouse. When Maximus's new flame threw a tantrum at a yacht party, I didn't bat an eye. Instead, after she slapped a waiter in a fit of pique, I made the police problem go away. When Maximus fought with one of his girls, I'd even send her a limited-edition Birkin to smooth things over. And today, Maximus is busy fucking his hot new toy in the study, while another pregnant mistress stands on the estate's rooftop, threatening to jump just to see him. And I'm still the one in my red-bottom heels, calmly going to clean up his mess. The mistress screamed, desperate. "I'm not having this baby! Get Maximus!" I took a sip of my wine, my voice bored. "He's busy today. You have the baby, and I'll make sure seven figures show up in your offshore account." My indifference set her off. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. "You're pathetic, Angelina! There was a time he wouldn't even look at another woman because of you. He slaughtered an entire family for you. When you were shot, he knelt in the pouring rain outside a church, begging God to take his life for yours! But now? You can't even get into his bed. All you can do is stand here and play the gracious Donna!" Her nails left red marks on my skin, but the smile on my face didn't crack. Did she really think a little drama would change anything? I wasn't playing the gracious Donna. I was just done. And I was finally ready to let Maximus go.

After getting remarried, I put my husband, Steven Graham, on the family's service roster at a rate of ten thousand dollars an hour. His childhood sweetheart, Julie Ziegler, heard about it and signed a long-term contract without a second thought. Four months later, the balance in my offshore account had climbed to nearly a million dollars. On our wedding anniversary, Steven was supposed to spend the day with me. Then Julie called. Her dog had suddenly gotten sick, and she asked him to go to her. I didn't get angry. I simply sent her an encrypted message. [Don't forget to transfer the payment on time. Late fees will be charged separately.] Later, when I had an attack of appendicitis, Steven sped through the city to take me to an underground clinic. Halfway there, the encrypted communicator rang again. Julie's voice came through the speaker. "Steven, it's raining. I forgot my umbrella. Can you come pick me up?" The car fell silent. I said nothing. I pulled a black umbrella from the hidden compartment, shoved it into his arms, unlocked the passenger door, and gestured for him to pull over. Steven looked at my pale face. The veins on the back of his hand stood out slightly. For once, he seemed reluctant. I opened the door and was immediately drenched by the rain. I turned around and said one last thing. "Just make sure she transfers the money on time." Even on our daughter Nora Graham's birthday, Julie's call hit right on schedule. "Steven, can you come with me to a kennel event tomorrow? All the family representatives are bringing dates. If I show up alone, I'll seem inadequate." Steven gripped the communicator and hesitated as he glanced at our daughter, who was placing candles on her birthday cake. Without even looking up, Nora picked up a piece of cake with her fork and said, "Dad, make sure that lady pays. Since it's a special occasion today, charge double."

I let Gideon mark me again. Then, I put my Alpha mate up for rent. The fragile widow of his dead Beta, Civian, always found excuses to drag him out of our bed. I stopped crying over the possessive pull of our Mate bond. Instead, I just charged her by the hour. 100,000 an hour during the day. 200,000 at night. Triple on full moons. In just three months, my offshore account grew by nearly twenty million. He had promised to take me to the werewolf auction to buy some rare herbs. But that woman called, crying that her wolf was out of control and desperately needed soothing. I didn't even blink. I just pulled out my phone and started the timer. Midnight. Burning up with fever from the pills I took to suppress my heat, he was driving me to the Pack hospital. That woman called again, shaking because she had a nightmare about Civian’s bloody death. I calmly signaled him to pull over and drop me at the next intersection. Seeing the flicker of struggle in his eyes, I just smiled lazily. "Just don't forget to pay." Then came the day of our daughter Mia’s checkup at The Pack's Gene-Therapy Center. The woman called again. "Toby's first shift is coming up. He really needs a strong Alpha to guide him through this dangerous time..." Gideon hung up the phone. He turned, guilt flashing in his eyes, and started to kneel before our daughter to explain. But Mia just held out her little hand, copying me exactly. "It's okay, Daddy. Just pay up. It's a full moon today, so that’s triple."

My name is Violet. I was the consigliere to the Leon mafia family in New York, and I wrote the rules of this city’s underworld myself. Yet, the man I had kept by my side for ten years, Drake Leon, was now trampling all over them. Ten years was more than enough time for a stray dog to grow into a wolf that can stand on its own. A decade ago, he was hacked to pieces by enemies on the streets of Brooklyn. Covered in blood, he crawled to me like a dying dog. I took him in. I put a gun in his hand. I taught him the rules of the mafia. Step by step, using my position as the Leon mafia family’s consigliere, I groomed him to become the boss of the Manhattan port district. Ten years later, he controlled the most valuable port under the Leon family for me, and for another woman, he framed her in standing grace. When that girl named Lina showed up pregnant, wearing the blue diamond necklace my mother left me, and sat in the seat that was supposed to be mine, I didn’t lose my temper. Instead, I had someone take the pathology report from the hospital, along with the child, seal them in a gift box, and deliver them to Drake’s new estate. Half an hour later, the study door was kicked open. He stormed in, drenched in night rain, carrying the scent of gunpowder. The barrel of his gun pressed straight against my forehead. “Violet.” He stared at me, his eyes bloodshot. “You touch her child, and I’ll make sure you’re buried with her.” I stayed seated by the fireplace. I didn’t move. I simply pushed a document to the center of the table. “Don’t rush into madness.” I looked up at him and continued, “As of fifteen minutes ago, I’ve frozen three warehouses under your name, two shipping routes, and seven offshore accounts.” Only then did his expression finally change. I smiled faintly, my voice soft. “Drake, you seem to have forgotten something. The reason for your accomplishments today isn’t because you know how to pull a trigger. It’s because I allowed you to live.”

Celeste Virelli is not your typical private investigator. Sleek, calculating, and always three steps ahead, she specializes in one thing: seducing unfaithful husbands to trigger the fidelity clauses in their ironclad prenups. Her clients are wealthy women trapped in golden cages—wives who want out, but only if they can take half the fortune with them. Celeste doesn’t advertise. She doesn’t need to. Her name passes in whispers between yoga mats and charity galas, a whispered promise of justice wrapped in silk and steel. When Vivienne Cross, the young wife of tech mogul Julian Cross, walks into her office, Celeste expects another routine takedown. But Julian isn’t like the others. He’s elusive, calculating, and hiding more than just a wandering eye. As Celeste draws him into her web, she uncovers a deeper game—one that involves offshore accounts, a missing woman, and a secret that could destroy more than a marriage. For the first time, Celeste finds herself questioning the rules she’s lived by. Because this time, the seduction might not be an act. And the most dangerous lies aren’t the ones told in bed—they’re the ones we tell ourselves. The Seduction Clause is a taut, stylish psychological thriller about power, betrayal, and the cost of playing with fire where every glance is a gamble, and every kiss could be a weapon.