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THE BILLIONAIRE AND THE CONTRACTED STRIPPER

THE BILLIONAIRE AND THE CONTRACTED STRIPPER

"You are mine!" He said with his dominating voice holding my neck, he was choking me, I was frightened to the very core, shaking. "The moment I paid you that huge sum of money, you became an asset to me" he added "You can't back out now. It's too late" he said again, still holding me. "I'm not yours" I managed to say in a cracked voice. "I will never be yours" I replied with a cracked voice trying to breathe." "You are nothing, you are just a mere whore with nothing else but a standing pole, a hoe who spreads her legs for money and  that's all you will ever be. A stripping hoe!" he said, tears rolled down from my cheeks as I began to cry. "If you try to break the deal we have by revealing it to an outsider, you will be dead! And come to think about it, who would believe the words that come from a stripping hoe like yourself? No one, no one will ever believe you! Because you know what you are? A complete Street whore. That's exactly what you are and what you will ever be." "If I'm a complete whore to you. Why did you choose me?" "Because you are nobody. I don't want my family digging into your profile and finding something, so I chose you. You were the perfect match that fit into all of this charade" he said intuitively. "I don't want to do this anymore,  I will wire you back your money first thing tomorrow morning" I said, trying to leave. He drags my hand vigorously. I was scared to the very core, shaking like a drenched rat. "You don't seem to understand the concept of our agreement, you don't seem to understand, Khloe"
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The Pleasure Directive

The Pleasure Directive

I was engineered to kill men with a kiss. When my pleasure‑kill protocol glitches on a Bratva king and binds my system to his, he gives me a choice: become his contract wife… or be handed back to the monsters who built me I was trained to destroy men without leaving a mark. The Siren Protocol turned my body into a weapon—every nerve engineered to dismantle loyalty, erase secrets, and turn power into submission. One kiss, and I can crash a neural implant like a virus. Hidden behind a luxury cover identity, I’m waiting for my next directive when my door explodes inward and Kael Petrov walks in—Bratva heir, tech billionaire, and the most controlled man in the city. He thinks he’s here to extract a traitor using his accounts to leak Siren data. He doesn’t know the “escort” in front of him is the Siren asset he’s hunting. So, I do what I was built for. I kiss him. My pleasure‑kill protocol should drop him in eight seconds. Instead, his high‑grade implant bites back. My signal loops through his system and straight into mine, fusing us in a feedback circuit of raw, addictive sensation that neither of us can control. Instead of killing him, I bind myself to him. Now I’m collared in his tower, my systems synced to his, and he’s staring at me like I’m the most interesting problem he’s ever seen. To keep me out of Bratva torture cells but still under his eye, Kael gives me a brutal ultimatum: Marry him and live as his contract wife, or be handed to the men who will take me apart for parts. I was meant to end him. Falling for him was never part of the directive.
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