Paris Capital

“Next question.” His eyes locked on her. He was close. Too close. Emily raised the tablet between them. “If your brand—” Scott pressed down on the tablet. Emily backed into the desk. Nowhere left to go. Scott placed his hands on either side of her, caging her in. His face inches from hers. “Scott—” “Next question.” His voice was rough. Emily’s breath caught. Heat flooded her body. “If your brand was a person,” she whispered, “how would you describe her—them?” His eyes dropped to her lips. “Resilient.” His thumb traced her jawline. “Beautiful.” His breath warmed her skin. “Irresistible.” The word hung between them. Emily’s heart pounded. One movement—one inch—and his lips would touch hers. She wanted it. God, she wanted it. “I should go.” Her voice shook. Scott’s jaw clenched. But he didn’t move. “The contract says no physical contact.” His blue eyes burned into hers. “It doesn’t say anything about wanting to.” Emily’s arranged marriage to Ian Hunter was a transaction—his family’s money for her father’s freedom. For three years, she endured his coldness, his cruelty, his mistress. The day his grandmother died, Ian filed for divorce and walked away with everything. Emily’s business collapsed. Ian’s empire grew. Now, she’s desperate enough to make a deal with the devil’s half-brother. Scott Hunter is pitched against his half-brother to claim his billion-dollar inheritance. One of the three requirements is a wife. Emily needs capital to rebuild—and revenge on the man who destroyed her. It shouldn't be. It's unheard of. It's supposed to be a simple contract: one year of marriage, no feelings, no complications. Except Scott can’t stop touching her. And Emily realizes she’s stopped pretending.

"Good evening, Mom. How was your day?" "My day was good, my love. How is yours going?" Her voice was a soothing balm against the stress of the day. "It’s... busy. My boss gave me a mountain of work to finish before tomorrow morning, so I won't be coming home tonight. I’m going to stay late and then head straight back in." "Oh, my dear," she sighed. "Just be careful. Don't get into any trouble." "I won't, Mom. Did you take your medication?" I asked, knowing how she tended to forget when I wasn't there to nag her. "Ah... I’ll take it now." "Mom, please. You need to stay strong for me." "I will, I will. I love you, Annabelle." "Love you too." After I hung up, the silence of the office felt even heavier. The lights were dimmed, except for the glow from my monitor and the soft yellow light spilling from Elias’s office. He was still in there, a silhouette of intense focus as he reviewed the project details. Suddenly, a sharp ping echoed through the quiet room. I jumped slightly, my eyes snapping to my computer screen. Unknown Email. No encrypted address. No profile picture No signature. Whoever sent this, don't want to be traced. "What is this?" I muttered, my skin crawling with a sudden, inexplicable chill. The subject line was written in bold, stark capital letters: BEFORE THE INVESTMENT. My pulse shifted into a frantic rhythm. I hesitated, my mouse hovering over the notification. When I finally clicked, my breath hitched. It wasn't just a message; it was a cache of attached documents, internal financial transfers, offshore account statements, and adjusted revenue projections. I realized instantly that these were different from the official files Elias had given me.

Sa mundo ng mga makapangyarihan, ang pag-ibig ay hindi isang pagpipilian—ito'y isang kasunduan. Para kay Klarise Olive, isang mailap at napakagandang ballerina sa Paris, at kay Louie Ray, isang mapagmataas at aroganteng billionaire cosmetic surgeon, ang kasal ay isang tanikalang pilit isinuklob sa kanila. Isang kulungang hindi nila ginusto. Isang sumpaang hindi nila pinili. Isang umaga, dinala sila ng kanilang mga magulang sa isang seremonyang inakala nilang isang simpleng pagtitipon—hindi nila alam, sila pala ang mga bida sa isang kasalang hindi nila alam na kanila. Sa puting bestida at tuxedo, natagpuan nila ang kanilang mga sarili sa harap ng altar, walang ibang pagpipilian kundi ang lumakad at bumigkas ng panatang hindi nagmula sa kanilang puso. At sa simula pa lamang, ang kanilang pagsasama ay puno ng tensyon at pangamba. Si Klarise, na buong buhay niyang inalay sa sining at kalayaan, ay ngayon nakagapos sa isang relasyong hindi niya ginusto. Si Louie, isang lalaking hindi kailanman naniwala sa kasal, ay napilitang pakasalan ang babaeng hindi niya hinangad. Ang digmaan ng mga titig, sagutan, at matitinding emosyon ay namayani sa kanilang pagsasama. Ngunit sa bawat pagtatalo, sa bawat sulyap na puno ng galit at pangungutya, isang pagnanais ng pag-unawa at pagmamahal ang unti-unting sumisilip sa kanilang mga puso. Galit nga ba talaga ang namamagitan sa kanila? O mayroon bang alon ng pagmamahal na higit pa sa lahat ng kasunduan ? O may isang damdaming mas malalim, mas totoo, at mas mahirap ipagkaila? Sa gitna ng kanilang magkaibang mundo at personalidad, magsisimula silang hanapin ang kabuluhan ng kanilang piniling kasunduan.

Si Xerxes Santillan III o mas kilala bilang Tres ay isang magaling na CEO sa mismong family business nila. Kilala ang kanilang kompaniya sa bansa at halos lahat sa kaniya ay perpekto. Mabait, guwapo at supportive. Maliban do'n, maganda ang kaniyang buhay, at may maganda ring singer na girlfriend. Ngunit sa kabila ng perpekto niyang buhay ay hindi pa rin niya mapapayag ang babaeng minamahal sa isang kasal. Parati na lang siyang naghihintay at sumusuporta sa mga pangarap nito. "Babe, please give me one more chance. I'll make sure na after nitong crusade performance ko sa Italy, ay magpapakasal na tayo." sabi nito sa kaniya sa ika-apat na proposal niya kay Lian. Tinakbuhan lang naman siya nito at walang sabi na umalis patungong airport. "Pero ang sabi mo, after ng concert mo sa Paris ay sasagutin mo na ako." giit niya, pero hindi niya pinaalam na galit siya at dismayado. "I'm sorry, babe. Babawi ako sa'yo after, okay?" Kung kailan nakahanda na ang lahat ay saka naman ito aalis bigla. Mahal niya ito, kaya kahit anong pilit niya, kung mahal din nito ang pangarap nito, ay wala siyang ibang magagawa kundi ang mahalin rin ang pangarap nito. Sa kaparehong araw, namamalayan na lang ni Travis na kasal na siya at nagising sa isang kama na may kayakapan na ibang babae at walang saplot. Ano kaya ang magiging love story ni Travis, gayo'ng nagtaksil na siya sa kaniyang nobya?

"Ma, ano ba? Pagod na pagod na akong maging sunud-sunuran sa inyo! Sa buong buhay ko, wala akong ibang ginawa kundi sundin ang lahat ng utos at nais ninyo. Bakit ngayon, isang hiling ko lang, bakit ayaw niyo akong pagbigyan?" Hindi ko na mapigilang umiyak, ang sakit sobra. Anak niya ako, bakit kailangan niyang magdesisyon na ako dapat? Isang malakas na sampal na naman ang natanggap ko galing sa kanya, na hindi ko na ikinagulat pa. Sanay na ako sa pananakit niya simula noong bata pa ako hanggang ngayon, na 23 years old na ako, lalong lalo na pag hindi ko sundin ang gusto niyang mangyari. "How dare you na sagutin ako ng ganyan? Ako ang bumuhay sa'yo kaya ako ang magdedesisyon. Kaya wala kang karapatan na kalabanin ang nais ko!" Inis na sigaw niya sa akin, kulang na lang sabunutan niya ako. "Ma, mali naman kasi kayo, ayaw ko pa pong magpakasal. Ipakasal niyo ako nang hindi niyo man lang ako tinatanong? Ma, please babalik na lang ako ng Paris," pagmamakaawa ko, ngunit tanging titig lamang ang pinupukol niya sa akin at walang bakas na naawa ito sa akin. Bakit, Ma? "Enough!" Isang malakas na sampal ulit ang natamo ko sa kabilang pisngi ko na ikinabagsak ko sa sahig. "Belphoebe Sinclair, sa gusto mo o hindi, magpapakasal ka sa lalaking 'yun." Parang echo ang boses niya na paulit-ulit sa tenga ko. Bakit ganun? Pakiramdam ko, parang ginawa akong bayad sa hindi ko alam na utang. Ano ba ang kasalanan ko? Bakit kailangan ipakasal ako sa taong hindi ko kilala at hindi ko naman mahal.

"PAPILLON!!!" His scream ripped through the house as his fist slammed into the wall right beside my head. The impact was deafening, before I could even blink, he lunged. His hand snapped around my neck. I gasped, my body going rigid as his grip locked me in place... not tight enough to kill, but firm enough to control, to own, to make sure I couldn't move… couldn't look away from him. His eyes burned into mine... wild, furious and terrifying. "Say it again," he growled, his voice trembling with rage. "Say you like him one more time and I'll go back to him, I won't just beat him, Papillon…" His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make me swallow hard. "I'll cut his tongue out and bring it to you in a box." My heart dropped. My lips parted, but no sound came out. What… What have I gotten myself into? ~~~ After I found a secret about my mom, my dad sent me to Paris saying it was the best way to escape from Mom's cage. What I didn't expect was to meet Logan, but everyone in L'impasse des Ombres calls him Bloodbath. He wasn't the gentle, patient kind of man I had read about in books. He wasn't safe. He wasn't soft. He was danger wrapped in calm confidence. Darkness disguised as temptation. He was the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about... calm on the surface, but with something dark and merciless lurking underneath. He wasn't like me... I didn't belong to his dark world. But instead of running away, I found myself begging to feel his warm tongue against my skin. He ruined the careful, obedient girl I had always been. And the worst part was… I wanted him to. I craved him.

Meu namorado pertencia a elite intocável da capital, com uma fortuna familiar avaliada em dezenas de bilhões. Para me “testar”, ele passou sete anos sem nunca me comprar um único presente, sem gastar um centavo comigo. Até mesmo uma parada em uma loja de conveniência para comprar preservativos precisava ser dividida meio a meio. Então, minha mãe ficou gravemente doente. Pedi dinheiro emprestado a todos os amigos e parentes que pude, mas ainda faltavam dois mil para cobrir os custos da cirurgia. Não importava o quanto eu implorasse, ele se recusou a me emprestar o dinheiro. Organizei o funeral da minha mãe sozinha. Quando voltei para arrumar minhas coisas, encontrei por acaso uma lista de presentes que ele havia comprado para a jovem vizinha. Uma propriedade de luxo privada. Bolsas de grife. Joias no valor de centenas de milhões. Havia também um chat de voz com o amigo dele. — Caleb, é verdade que a Jessica realmente se humilhou e implorou a você por dois mil? Caleb Brooks soltou uma risada baixa e divertida, com um tom preguiçoso e indiferente. — A Nevaeh não estava errada. Qualquer pessoa que saia por aí implorando por dois mil — o que mais ela é, senão uma interesseira? — Estamos juntos há apenas sete anos e ela já está tentando tirar dinheiro de mim. Então essa era a verdade. Sete anos do chamado teste, ao que parecia, tinham sido provocados por nada mais do que algumas palavras manipuladoras de uma jovem vizinha. No entanto, isso já não importava. No momento em que minha mãe faleceu, eu já havia decidido deixá-lo.

De dix à dix-huit ans, mes parents m'ont fait signer deux cent quatre-vingt-dix-neuf reconnaissances de dette. Chaque somme que je leur ai demandée, j'ai dû l'emprunter et je devais les rembourser une fois que je serais adulte. Puis j'ai eu un accident de voiture. Quand il a fallu payer les frais de chirurgie, il manquait encore trois mille euros sur mon compte. À bout de ressources, je n'ai eu d'autre choix que de supplier mes parents. Mais ils ont juste eu un rire froid : « Manon Besson, tu as déjà dix-huit ans, nous n'avons plus l'obligation de te donner de l'argent ! Tu dois signer une autre reconnaissance de dette ! » Les larmes aux yeux, j'ai signé la trois-centième reconnaissance de dette. Après l'opération, cependant, j'ai vu les photos que ma sœur adoptive avait publiées sur Instagram. Sur les photos, elle fêtait ses dix-huit ans sur un paquebot à l'étranger, entourée de personnes, comme une petite princesse. Mes parents lui ont offert un luxueux appartement dans le centre de Paris et les clés d'une Maserati. Même mon ami d'enfance la regardait avec des yeux pleins d'amour. Elle a écrit : « Merci à ceux que j'aime le plus pour ce bonheur parfait. » Et moi, j'ai baissé les yeux vers la reconnaissance de dette froissée dans ma main et j'ai soudain souri. Après avoir remboursé les dettes, je n'aurais plus besoin d'une telle famille.

À Paris, Léana, danseuse de cabaret, vit dans la lumière des projecteurs et l’ombre des secrets. Chaque soir, elle enfile ses robes satinées, joue avec le regard des hommes et cache ses blessures derrière des pirouettes et des sourires mesurés. Mais sa vie bascule le soir où une mystérieuse enveloppe change tout : un homme riche et inconnu, Adrian, lui demande de danser… pour lui seul, dans le silence et sans contact. Adrian, blessé par un passé qu’il dissimule derrière l’obscurité, ne voit plus le monde avec ses yeux. Il “voit” avec ses autres sens : le souffle, le parfum, le mouvement. Quand Léana danse pour lui, il perçoit sa vérité, sa fragilité et sa force, comme si chaque geste racontait son âme. La rencontre de ces deux êtres fêlés devient un jeu dangereux d’interdits, de désir et de fascination. Léana, qui pensait tout connaître de sa séduction, découvre l’obsession d’Adrian et la puissance du silence. Et Adrian, qui croyait être seul dans sa solitude, se surprend à dépendre de la présence fragile mais brûlante de cette danseuse. Au fil des rendez-vous nocturnes, leur lien devient une danse intime et envoûtante, où chaque regard absent, chaque geste silencieux, chaque souffle partagé devient une promesse et une chaîne. Mais les secrets du passé, la peur de se perdre et les règles imposées par Adrian menacent de transformer cette passion en prison. Sous ta peau, mes chaînes est une histoire de désir, de vulnérabilité et de puissance, où l’érotisme se mêle à la tension psychologique et où la découverte de l’autre devient la seule musique qui compte.

Clara n'est pas venue au lac par hasard. Elle fuit. À trente ans, elle a tout perdu : son père trop tôt, sa mère hier, et jusqu'à sa capacité d'aimer, assassinée par un homme qui l'a trahie. Photographe de l'éphémère, elle ne croit plus qu'aux images figées, à la beauté morte, à la solitude choisie. Le chalet de sa mère, au bord du lac de Noirceval, doit être sa dernière étape avant l'effacement. Mais le lac a d'autres plans. Car sous ses eaux noires, depuis cent vingt-six ans, un homme attend. Gabriel. Noyé la veille de ses noces en 1898, condamné par une malédiction ancienne à errer entre deux mondes, visible seulement de ceux qui portent en eux une blessure assez profonde pour voir l'invisible. Chaque pleine lune, il émerge et marche sur l'eau, cherchant désespérément un regard qui le reconnaisse. Depuis cent vingt-six ans, personne ne l'a vu. Personne ne lui a parlé. Personne ne lui a souri. Jusqu'à Clara. La première nuit où elle le voit, Clara croit devenir folle. Un homme sur l'eau ? Des vêtements d'un autre siècle ? Elle veut fuir, mais ses jambes refusent. Lui s'approche, et quand il parle, sa voix est celle d'un homme qui a désappris l'usage des mots. "Tu me vois ?" demande-t-il. "Je te vois", répond-elle. Et ce simple aveu change tout. Ils parlent jusqu'à l'aube. Il raconte 1898, Élodie, la barque, la noyade, la malédiction. Elle raconte Paris, les reportages, la trahison de Simon, la mort de sa mère. Deux solitudes qui se rencontrent à la frontière du réel. Quand le soleil se lève, il doit plonger. Mais il reviendra. La prochaine pleine lune. Et l'autre après. Et l'autre encore.