Max Monroe Books Novels & Stories

I gasped, blinking disbelievingly. Mr. Stevens cleared his throat. "Mr. Montero was a very wealthy man, Miss Mills. A billionaire to be exact. And before his untimely death, he left a sizable sum to you." My knees tried to go out from underneath me, and I leaned against the doorframe to stay upright. A billionaire? Torin? How the hell—the man I knew lived in a compound, not a mansion. He rode a motorcycle, not flew in a private jet. "How… How much?" I managed to croak out.

"Not that I have discovered. That is why I pay him so well." "So tell me about Angel." I throw this out of left field because of curiosity. Monroe hesitates before he speaks. "Angel is part of the reason I need you here. You will meet her tomorrow night at the club. She is an amazing Shibari model. She is also my slave." Silence hangs in the air. I'm well aware of Monroe's side adventures. Hell, he provided needed information about illegal slave operations in the United States on more than one occasion. He also knows my feelings on the subject. "A slave? Why?" I hold my temper because this is unlike Monroe.

As soon as the double doors clicked shut behind her, the people in the room couldn't hold it in any longer. BANG! Victor Monroe slammed his fist onto the table again and his face was a dark shade of red. He hated Raina Valente so much. To him, she was a trashy person that came out of nowhere to ruin his perfect plan. For years, he had worked hard to make sure his daughter, Selene, was the only woman in Maxton’s life. He had spent a fortune and used underhanded methods to scare away or eliminate any other woman who tried to get close to Maxton.

Carrie was even more excited when she heard that. There would be no trouble; she had been afraid Henry would arrange for someone to join them. Dealing with an additional person, no matter how capable, would be challenging for her. "Even though Henry won't be involved, if we encounter any trouble, we will just need to mention the Master of Golden Liberty," Sheena said. "What? Master of Golden Liberty? Is Mr. Truman the Master of Golden Liberty?" "Yes, he is. Is the Master of Golden Liberty very powerful?" Sheena asked curiously.

“But if you still want to help me, meet me tonight. Same place you proposed the first time.” He exhaled, caught between guilt and nostalgia. “Olivia…” “Seven o’clock,” she said, and hung up. Two hours later, she called Marcus Vale. He answered with that smooth confidence she hated and admired at once. “Miss Monroe,” he said, his voice like smoke. “I was hoping you’d call.” “Then hope rewarded you. I have a deal for you.” “I’m listening.” “I can give you access to the Monroe accounts, every investor, every hidden fund. But I want something in return.”

I like him a lot—his charm, his fire, the way he’d lean close, whiskey in hand and grunt “Sheila, you’re the one I trust.” Now Monroe’s turned that into a trap, a noose tightening fast. The photos burn my vision—Moretti, Ricci, Voss—blood I’ve dodged, stories I’ve softened, chasing Jeremy’s glow. The seven million’s not bribes, not cash drops, just years of favors, exclusives, a debt I didn’t see ‘til now. My chest heaves, a sob breaking free, and I curl tight, shaking, exhaustion crashing with terror. Sleep’s gone—Monroe’s voice loops, that snap echoing, those pictures searing my brain. Jeremy’s fighting, Mama’s still, and I’ve stood watch, but this?

The ache in her chest told her otherwise. She'd only seen Harvey and Juliet Pendleton three times since her employment, and both times, she'd been treated as a servant. Maxwell rose and finally turned his eyes on her. They were sharp, assessing, but not unkind. “Don’t let them get to you,” he said plainly. “The Bensons, the Pendletons—they thrive on drama. If you give them tears, they win. If you stand tall, they choke on their own poison.” The words shocked Monet, and she looked away. So the rumors really were spreading if Maxwell had said that.