Charli D'amelio 2020 Novels & Stories

She signed her freedom away with a trembling hand and a heart full of rage. Two years as Lucien Cross's contracted wife, playing the role of loving spouse while he remained her enemy behind closed doors. Mara Quinn made a deal with the devil to save her family. He married her to claim his inheritance. Their marriage is a battlefield, their home a cage gilded in wealth she never wanted. But hate burns hot—and somewhere between the fights and the forced proximity, between the public kisses that mean nothing and the private moments that mean everything, the line between enemies and lovers begins to blur. She promised herself she'd walk away when the contract expired. He promised himself he'd never care. They were both wrong.

WOLFBANE SERIES BOOK 2 ***It is highly recommended you read book 1, Wolfbane, before starting this one for context and to avoid spoilers.*** *TALIA* You'd think being raised in a brothel would prepare me for anything. You'd be wrong. I never expected to find my mother murdered in cold blood. I never predicted I'd hunt down the killer and take his life in exchange. And I sure didn't imagine the son of my mother's murderer would turn out to be my mate. But I guess this is my life now. Being a werewolf in hiding was no piece of cake, but being a werewolf on the run is even worse… *ALEX* I don't think I made a very good first impression. But to be fair, who meets their mate at their father's murder scene? A murder where she, evidently, is the number one and only suspect. It's disturbing. It's gruesome. But it's fate. And I'll do anything to see the mysterious woman with distinctive blue eyes again… *Content warning: This is a paranormal romance novel with dark themes containing mature adult content, offensive language, and graphic violence, and may not be suitable for young readers.*

The notice of my mother's layoff sat on the kitchen table. Rent was due in three days. My younger brother's tutoring fees were already two weeks late. And my little sister, Stephanie, clutched her acceptance letter to the local public arts high school like she'd done something wrong. None of this would be happening if it weren't for me. My illness had taken everything our family had saved. I stayed in my room, leaning against the door, wanting to tell them I'd drop out of treatment—but I couldn't bring myself to open it. "Why did he have to fall sick?" My mother was crying, her voice low and tight, like the words were being forced out of her. "If it were just you both, Stephanie and Jamie, we'd be fine by now." "Mom, please don't say that." My brother and sister held her, barely holding back their own tears. "He's a burden… but he's still my son." Her voice cracked. "I just… I can't do this anymore…" I stepped back and sank into my chair. It wasn't an accusation. It was a verdict.

My best friend was a D-list influencer who'd blown six months of savings to drag me to a so-called "socialite finishing school." But then the instructor made us slap each other across the face — an "obedience test." I couldn't help it. I laughed. The next second, my friend was blacklisted from the entire circle, and her agent sent a termination notice. The instructor pointed at me and gave my friend an ultimatum: "Get on your knees. Slap her ten times. Then I'll lift the ban." My friend cried, trembling as she walked toward me. I sighed. The billion-dollar inheritance I'd just received — looks like the secret was about to come out.

HUNCHING my shoulders against the cold, I watched my breath mist out in front of me. It was either that or head into the convenience store opposite and grab some cigs, which I couldn’t do. Ma’d already threatened to lop off my head if she caught me stinking of smoke, and while I wasn’t averse to a clipped ear, what with being twenty, I didn’t give much of a anymore. My wrist was , thanks to how many times Da had broken it, and I’d been shot at twice. I could cope with her pulling on my ear like it was stuck on with Velcro. Dealing with Mariska’s repugnance, however, was another matter entirely.

I woke up naked beside a man I hadn’t seen in eight years. Before noon, the scandal was everywhere. By noon, I’d lost my position as CEO, my name, and my marriage. But the worst betrayal wasn’t the headlines. It wasn’t walking in on my husband and my best friend planning my downfall and mocking me. It was finding out the man I loved, my sweetheart of five years, made me a surrogate without my knowledge. The twins I'd been carrying for seven months weren't mine. But it failed to break me. It only made me stronger. After all, I wasn't just a mother—I was a CEO.

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

The day I found out I was pregnant, they threw me in the cold room. Ninety-nine calls later, Sandro Vaitti finally picked up. "The Family made that call," he said. "It was Genny's birthday. She got a fever because of you. This is your punishment. Just wait—once you're out, I'll marry you." Sandro's favorite line? 'Just wait.' His mafia family hated me. He swore once he gave them their precious heir, he'd cut ties and choose me. I bought it. Waited two years. Waited while he hooked up with Helga Cicili and had a kid—Genny. Then came the kicker: A daughter can't carry the Family name. He had to have a son with Helga. And yeah, I believed him. Again. Waited another year—until Helga got pregnant with his golden boy. I thought, 'Finally. Done waiting.' Then plot twist—I was pregnant too. Day before the wedding. Felt like fate. Didn't even get to tell him. They locked me up. Cold room. I curled up, shaking, barely breathing. When the door creaked open, I knew— I was done. Done waiting. Done begging. I'd leave. And I'd take my baby with me.

To "fix" Leonard Rinehart's oh-so-tragic depression, Naomi Gaffron—yeah, the same girl who once swore she'd only ever marry me—secretly tied the knot with him. So I gave in. Played along with the family's little matchmaking stunt. Married Aurelia Spencer—Brieton City's golden girl who'd been obsessed with me since forever. For seven years, she clung to me like I was oxygen. Every night, curled up like she'd break if I moved. I thought that was happiness. Then one night, I caught her whispering to her best friend: "Leonard's already got international awards. When are you dumping Leone?" "Whatever—I'm stuck with someone I don't love anyway. Doesn't matter who I married. Someone's gotta keep an eye on Leone so he doesn't screw up everything Leonard built." I checked her study. Found a hidden folder—over 100,000 photos of Leonard. A hundred unsent love letters. Even I couldn't fake it anymore. Bought a silicone dummy. Laid out the plan. The fire would be step one. Dead or alive—we're done.

“Show me,” he said, voice low and rough, “how good you're willing to serve me.” I should’ve spat in his face. Except, I nodded…because outside that tent, his men waited. The ones who’d tear me apart piece by piece if I said no. The ones I’d be handed to. I slid my palm between my thighs, breath hitching at my own touch, just a warning stroke and to stay alive. But when I brushed again, deeper this time, I gasped. “Keep going,” Malrik said, leaning back, watching like I was the most fascinating sin he’d ever seen. So I did. With shame thick in my throat and my heart pounding against cracked ribs. I did it for my sister, for survival, for him. *** Kaelith thought being rejected by her mate was the worst thing that could happen but she was wrong. Sold to a rogue warlord as leverage, branded like cattle, and forced into a savage camp where women are broken for sport and pleasure, Kaelith expects to die or worse. But she ends up in the mercy of Malrik Dren, the warlord himself. What happens when a broken girl becomes a weapon, and the monster meant to break her starts to fall?