Fbi Jacket Novels & Stories

My name is Dakota Wetherby. On the very day my husband, Theodore Aldridge, and I get legally married, he brings his ex-girlfriend, Sofia Moretti, into our home. "Sofia recently suffered a miscarriage, so she's going through a very difficult time. I'm genuinely worried about her," he says. "We're just friends. It's only natural for friends to comfort each other," he adds. Sofia is Theodore's college sweetheart. Rumor has it they separated on good terms when she went abroad for further studies. Clad in Theodore's jacket, she curls up on our bed. Her pale, ashen face is streaked with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dakota. I had no idea you two were getting married today. "I was too upset and didn't know who else to reach out to, so I called Theo. "He was only comforting me because I lost my child. It's completely my fault for overstepping and ruining your wedding day. "You can ask for whatever compensation you want. Just please don't blame Theo for this." I hold the freshly issued marriage certificate from the courthouse and walk up to her. "Since you've brought it up, I suppose I'll reluctantly accept your compensation. "Theodore and I are married for business reasons, with billions in projects hanging in the balance. "Tell me, how exactly do you plan to make up for all of that?"

Lorenzo and Selena secretly love each other, even though it should be forbidden by agents. Especially since Lorenzo was a captain and Selena was a member of his team. No romantic relationship should occur between agents. But Lorenzo was desperate to love Selena and marry her. During their five years of marriage, all was well and they had a son who was hidden from the public. But a new mission gets Selena killed and all the secrets they've been tightly hiding for so long are revealed to the surface. The FBI's elite board was furious and suspended Lorenzo for his misdeeds. Everyone shunned Lorenzo when he was in the most difficult phase of his life because Selena's death brought a threat to his son. Lorenzo was always blaming himself after all the weeks since Selena's death. He secretly investigates Selena's bizarre death case in order to viciously punish Selena's murderer. But when he gets close to the mastermind behind Selena's murder, he meets a woman who looks like Selena who works for his enemy. Lorenzo thought that the woman might be Selena. And as long as he was breathing, he would continue to pursue that woman to prove that she might be his dead wife.

"Go on Athena," Luciano whispered, sliding a hand around my waist. "Shoot me. This was what you wanted all along wasn't it?" Tears ran down my cheeks. My hands trembled with the gun. He was right. This was what I had wanted. "Athena," He leaned forward, burying his face in my neck, his hands around me tightening. "Shoot already. End this. For both our sakes..." **** When Athena was given the mission to infiltrate Moretti Industries as an undercover agent for the FBI and find information on the Lord of the Mafia, she sees it as the golden opportunity to get her revenge on the man whom she thinks killed her father- Luciano Moretti. Her plan is simple. Entice Luciano until he spills all his secrets to her and then kill him. However, along the line, Athena realizes that she would have to fight, not only against Luciano and his enemies but against her feelings as well. What happens when Athena begins to yearn for her enemy? Will she complete her mission, avenge her father's death or Instead, allow her heart to decide? FB handle - HB Temilorun IG handle - hb_temilo

In 1612, he couldn’t save her. In 2026, he might not want to. Elias Thorne was a man of maps and measurements, the King’s most trusted surveyor, until the smoke of the Lancashire witch trials choked the life out of everything he loved. Catherine wasn’t a witch—she was just an innocent woman caught in the gears of a superstitious world. When Elias was turned into something monstrous that same year, he didn't see it as a curse; he saw it as a deadline. He had forever to find a way to bring her back. For four centuries, Elias moved through the shadows of history, building an empire of wealth and dark influence. He hunted every myth, funded every occult discovery, and bled for every lead—all to find a soul that refused to return. He grew bitter, his heart hardening into the very stone of the London streets he walked. He eventually gave up on the heavens and the hells, settling into a life of cold, immortal apathy. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, he sees her. She’s standing in line for coffee, wearing headphones and a denim jacket, looking exactly like the woman he watched die under a grey Jacobean sky. She has no memory of the fire, the maps, or the man who has spent four hundred years hating the world for her sake. Now, Elias faces a choice: Walk away and let her live the peaceful life he once prayed for, or reclaim a love that doesn’t belong to him anymore. But Catherine has secrets of her own—and in the modern world, the ghosts of 1612 are finally starting to catch up.

Warning: DARK ROMANCE Story contains detailed mature scenes possessing dubious consent not recommended for age group below 18 years old. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Prologue Shadows engulfed him in a beautiful embrace. He looked like an angel with devilish intentions. It wasn't until he took a step towards her did the gravity of situation descended upon her and even then she couldn't do anything but shake in fear. She knew making a run for it won't do a thing, calling was not an option and if she screamed...she opened her mouth to scream but a meek plea came out. Her body's lack of response terrified her, tears gathered in her orbs with horrible anticipation. With his each step nearer she gripped the frame of her window tighter hoping to keep her balance. It took him three steps to be inches away from her body. He slowly took his suit jacket off, making himself comfortable as he amusingly watched her shaken face. She was so horror-stricken to even look at his face. She gulped as his hand cupped her neck in a gentle grip, guiding her eyes to his. His eyes slipped from the hold of her eyes to her lips in a second. She grew self conscious all over again. His heated gaze on her lips was unwavering. In the moment of bewilderment and growing self awareness her tongue unconsciously wiped her lips wet and it was all it took for him to descent on her lips.

I cringe in fear, he traces his finger down my half naked body feasting his eyes on me, I can tell my already wet transparent outfit isn't helping matters, I feel his hand graze through my nipple slightly he turns me over making me face the wall, I feel his bulge rub against me,I try pushing him but he pins me down with no effort at all, "It won't be fun if you don't resist" I'm hit by a sharp wave of pain as he thrusts into me gradually it turns to pleasure as he thrusts faster,harder and quicker my brain tells me to fight him off and run but my body aches for more pleasure than ever,I've always been this kind of slut but tonight I feel violated, He turns me over to face him I watch his lips move closer aiming for a kiss,disgusted and irked I kick him in the groin causing him to fall and sprawl on the ground ,I reach for my jacket, he pulls me by my ankle I try kicking him off but he's holding on too tight, restless and impatient I reach for the gun just before me pulling the trigger without second thought, he stays still not moving seconds after blood come gushing out from his abdomen,I hear claps come from behind "Well-done Nikita, welcome to the crib"

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

"Notorious Bachelor Lucas Hart, 29, proposes to his first love and childhood sweetheart, Natalia Rossi!" My heart broke as I saw the picture of Lucas proposing to Natalia on one knee, the same ring I found in his jacket pocket, in the photo being slid onto her finger. The camera zoomed in on Natalia’s face and a gasp escaped my lips. It was like staring at myself, but a thinner, sicklier version of me. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in three years.  "Bianca," My father’s voice answered, "To what do I owe this sudden call?" "Dad," I said, "I accept. I will come back home for the arranged marriage and take back my inheritance." *** Bianca Salvatore, heiress of the Salvatore empire ran away from home, trying to escape the marriage arranged by her father. She met Lucas who she dated for three years, until his first love returned. He never knew about her true identity, and always shamed her for being poor. He heartlessly announced that he would get married to his first love, then make Bianca his side piece. Bianca didn’t want that life for herself, so she agreed to her father’s arranged marriage and took her inheritance. From being known as a poor pauper, to a famous billionaire heiress. Now her ex is on his knees, begging for a second chance. Will Bianca risk her heart again for the man who shattered it, or will she choose the powerful husband who sees her true worth?

A Golden Cage. A Secret Predator. An Unyielding Obsession. My family sold me as collateral to a monster, but the man who dismantled my hell was a coffee-brewing widower with a trillion-dollar secret. To Manhattan’s elite, I, Claire Desmond, am nothing more than a flawed asset—ready to be liquidated to save my family’s throne from bankruptcy. Jake Floyd, the arrogant billionaire holding my father’s debt, wants me as a submissive trophy in his golden cage. Amidst the desperation and the betrayal of my own flesh and blood, my only sanctuary is the warm embrace of Gareth Hamilton—a single father and SoHo cafe owner who looks at me as if I’m the only woman left on earth. But Gareth is more than just the scent of espresso and the denim jacket he lent me on a stormy night. Beneath his deadly calm, he is a cold-blooded apex predator capable of erasing my enemies with a single snap of his fingers. He quietly hacked his way into my life, bought out my family’s debt, and built an impenetrable fortress around me—all without letting me see the chains he was forging. When the lies about his true identity unravel and the ghosts of his dark past come seeking vengeance, I’m forced to face a reality that shatters my sanity. Is the man who claimed me with an intoxicating kiss the home I’ve been searching for... or just a new master, far more dangerous than the devil I left behind?

I used to be a top ballet dancer. The year I was diagnosed with a spinal hemangioma, my boyfriend Julian Blackwood said, "Wherever you go, I go." We'd been together three years. He walked beside me as I went, step by step, from the most luminous dancer on that stage to a woman in a wheelchair. Every time the nerve pain hit and I collapsed, he was the one who lifted me off the floor. Every round of electrostim and acupuncture, he sat in the corridor outside the therapy room and waited for me to come out. Before I got sick, he promised me—the night I finished my final performance of Swan Lake, we'd sign the marriage license. He'd bought tickets for that show three months in advance. I never stood on that stage again. And the marriage license never came up. Until the morning I noticed the collar of his white dress shirt carried a smudge of lipstick that wasn't mine. I heard him on the balcony. A woman's voice on the other end. "Mr. Blackwood, you left your jacket at the hotel last night. I'll bring it over." I stared at that smear of red, and something in me snapped. I laughed. "Send me to Westbrook. The locked-down rehab facility. I don't want to drag you down anymore." Something flickered in his eyes—a brief, animal panic. Then he nodded. He thought I meant rest. He didn't know I'd already signed the papers to donate my body to science. I was going there to die.