Dreamcatcher Review

"I know your reputation quite well, Mr. Storm. You're cold, calculating, and a merciless man. Everyone fears you. Well, everyone except me." I tilt my head, intrigued at her answer. At the defiance brimming in the depths of her hazel eyes. "You're almost correct, Ms. Han. Everyone fears me, including you, even if you say otherwise." She bit down on her bottom lips, eyes trained on mine, but her fingers were shaking. I take a step forward. Then another. And another, until I have her backed up against a wall, her head shifted to the side, giving me a good view of her spotless, delicate neck. "W-what are you doing?" "Punishing you." "You're sick." "Wait till I'm done, mio cara. I'm sure that review will change for the worst." — Twenty-two-year-old Reneigh Han has been working for the Storm Enterprises since she got out of grad school. She cherishes her position, but when fate backs her into a corner and forces her to steal from the enterprises, she tries to take the secret to the grave. Elijah Storm is as ruthless as they come. A much feared Mafia Don and leader of the Storm Mafia. No one steals from him and goes scot free. When he finds out Reneigh's secret, he's determined to give her a second chance to prove her loyalty to him. Reneigh would be his for six months. A devious arrangement, yes, but Elijah Storm always gets what he wants. And he wants Reneigh. As his.

I'd spent an entire year preparing for my son Tristan Pascall's spot at a top international school. By the final admissions review, I had every single document ready. All that was missing was the original copy of Richard Pascall and my marriage certificate. Once we handed that in, it would be official. But when we got to the admissions office, Richard turned on me, accusing me of arranging this without telling him. Before I could clap back, the admin frowned and said, "Ma'am, according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you." My whole body went cold. And then Iris Poole—who had been standing behind Richard this whole time—stepped up and slid her marriage certificate across the counter. The staff checked it, nodded, and said, "Mr. Pascall, Ms. Poole, your registration date is June, four years ago. Everything looks fine. You may proceed." June, four years ago. That was the exact month Richard held my hand in front of all our friends and family at our engagement party and promised I was his one true love. He had lied to me about that for the past seven years.