First Do No Harm

The day before New Year's, my younger brother announced he was bringing his girlfriend home for dinner. Excited, I drove my new car to pick them up, taking my daughter along with me. However, as soon as his girlfriend got in the car, her face darkened. "Henry, you didn't tell me your sister was staying at your place—and with a kid!" she snapped. I frowned and was about to explain when my brother quickly interjected, "She's not staying. After dropping us off, she'll be heading to a hotel." Only then did his girlfriend's expression ease. I swallowed my discomfort and asked my brother what he was planning. He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin and said, "Sis, don't cause any trouble for me, okay? My girlfriend is the daughter of the Cromwell Group's CEO!" My eyes widened in shock. Was not the Cromwell Group the same company my ex-husband had just handed over to me as part of our divorce settlement?

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.

Lavish London mansions. A hand-painted Rolls-Royce. And eight dead friends. For the British fixer Robbie Chase, working for the Russian's President most vocal critic meant stunning perks – but also constant danger. His gruesome death is one of 14 that retired British Agent QUINTUS NOONE has linked to Russia – but the UK police shut down every last case. QUINTUS NOONE'S investigation reveals the full story of a ring of death on British soil that the government has ignored.

By accident, I stumbled upon my husband's secret. There were cameras covering every corner of our house, but I stayed silent and pretended not to know about them. One day, I faked leaving home and hid in the closet, only to hear my husband fooling around with his mistress. Jared's breath was short from exertion. "Faster. We have less than 20 minutes before Vanessa gets back." His mistress giggled. "Relax. Her eyesight is terrible." Jared growled. "Shut up! Vanessa is my wife. Say another thing about her, and I'll throw you out!" What he didn't know was that my eyesight had been cured. My vision was as sharp as anyone else's. I stepped out of the closet with a choked sob and called my brother. "I'll go to Murica."

It was a national holiday and we decided to drive back to my husband's hometown to spend the holidays. One day before we left, my husband's childhood crush came crying to him that she had not managed to buy train tickets home. My husband immediately decided to let her have my seat in the car and insisted that I take the train instead. I looked at him in disbelief. There was shock in my eyes. Even my son insisted I take the train. "Mommy, Aunt Rosie is so pretty. How could you make her take the train?" I did not argue. I booked my train ticket right in front of them. However, it was to my own hometown. I no longer wanted a biased husband and a disloyal son.

My fiancé's first love was taking photos on a cliff before the landslide. To save her, he actually left me behind on the crumbling edge. I pleaded with him to save me. "Lucy isn't physically strong—she can't handle this alone. You've always been resilient. I'll get Lucy to safety first, then come back for you." Their silhouettes vanished over the ridge. After a brief commotion, everything went silent. Including me, with my freshly sprained ankle. When he saw the news of my death, he completely fell apart.

When desire knows no boundaries, every moment counts. Untamed Desire brings you a collection of provocative short stories exploring forbidden touches, secret cravings, and unexpected connections. From strangers trapped in a storm to tangled love triangles and power plays, these tales explore lust and longing in all their raw, intoxicating forms. Each chapter is a standalone story—perfect for quick, sultry reads that ignite your imagination and leave you wanting more.

"Sign the papers, Estella." Marco slid the divorce papers across the mahogany table, his eyes fixed on Claudia, who hovered by his side with a victorious smile. "Did you really think a nobody like you could keep me?" Estella's throat tightened as she forced herself to meet his gaze. The diamond on Claudia's finger caught the light—his best friend now wearing what should have been hers forever. "You should be grateful," Claudia murmured, resting a hand on her belly. "Letting you go is the kindest thing we've done for you." When Estella married into the powerful Valdez family, she believed in love conquering all. Instead, she found herself cast out, Helena Valdez herself showing her the door when Claudia announced her pregnancy. Then Alejandro De Luca appeared—Marco's sworn enemy offering an unexpected proposition. "A contract marriage," he said simply. "You get protection. I get revenge." Together, they plotted to dismantle the very family that had humiliated her. With each calculated move, Estella reclaimed pieces of herself she thought lost forever. But revenge is a dangerous game. As their plan unfolded and tragedy struck, Estella discovered that survival meant more than settling scores—it meant learning to wield her pain as power. The quietest heart, after all, often hides the most dangerous storm.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

To save my husband, I drank until my stomach bled. Despite making it to the hospital, no one would treat me—all because he, a prominent surgeon, forbade anyone from attending to his own wife. In a previous life, he had saved me, a deed that fate cruelly repaid: the same day he saved me, his beloved, Lily Evans, tragically died during surgery. Consumed by regret, he lamented, "If I hadn't saved you, she might still be alive." On my birthday, in a twisted celebration, he intoxicated both me and our daughter. In a horrifying turn, he used his surgical skills to ruthlessly stab us both. As I lay bleeding, I begged for our daughter's life, pleading with him to spare her, his biological child. He coldly justified his brutality by claiming that being tied to me caused him to miss his chance with his true love. Fueled by a desperate need to protect my daughter, I fought him ferociously. He inflicted thirty-eight merciless wounds on me before turning his murderous intent towards our child. As I faced death, my last sight was of him, his decision clear as he once again chose his lost love over his living family.

No terceiro ano de casamento, finalmente engravidei. Carregando uma marmita, preparei-me para ir à empresa do meu marido e contar-lhe essa boa notícia. Mas acabei sendo confundida com uma amante pela secretária dele. Ela virou a marmita sobre minha cabeça, arrancou minhas roupas e, à força, me fez perder o bebê. — Uma empregada, ousando seduzir o Diretor Borges e ainda ficar grávida dele. — Hoje vou te mostrar o destino que espera o filho de uma amante. Depois, orgulhosa, foi contar vantagem ao meu marido: — Diretor Borges, resolvi o problema de uma empregada que queria te seduzir. Como pretende me recompensar?