Upton Sinclair Novels Novels & Stories

BEFORE YOU READ You have ten seconds to run. Tropes: Forced proximity, size difference, breeding kink, and primal chase play. This story features a fugitive criminal fueled by adrenaline and testosterone invading your safe space. Expect dirty talk, roughness, and intense possessiveness. (***) Belle I never should have opened the door to fear. Or maybe, deep down, I was always waiting for it.

My phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Beatrice: Mr. Washington called again. He says he’s serious about seeing you. I swallowed hard and typed back: To Beatrice: Tell him I’m here when he is. The next morning, the city woke slower, as if it too was savoring the quiet before the inevitable storm. I slipped into my routine, the sleek black pants, the perfect blouse, the precise application of makeup that hid every trace of last night’s restless thoughts. Luxe demanded perfection, and perfection was a mask I wore well.

They don't seem to take me seriously at all, talk more of being intimidated. “Of course, you're not an easy target. How can the boss’s woman be an ordinary person? Lady Aurora, don't give your subordinates a hard time. Just follow us. If we end up dead because of you, that would be an injustice to us.” The one beside me says and winks at me. Just then, the car stops before mighty silver gates. The stone walls seem to reach up to heaven. Could this be a prison or a fortress? The gates open on their own after the driver lowered the glass, probably to enable some kind of facial recognition.

Maxwell’s POV Scarlett stepped back from the door, her eyes darting to mine with a mixture of curiosity and unease. I offered her a gentle smile, hoping to ease her nerves. Clay and I entered, glancing around the small, modest room. It was simple, far from the opulence she must have known in the South, but she seemed to find peace here. Her expression was calm, as if grateful for the small space and its quietude. She didn’t need luxury; she needed a haven.

They shut the hatch just as a scream from a girl echoed outside: "Mama! Don't lock me out.Mama!" A thud. Fists of small size on wood. And then a snapping sound, like branches. Then nothing. Leyna wept so violently her chest caught without noise. Mira forced herself to be calm. She ripped linen, stuffed soot onto the child's burns. It crackled but did not steam, the salt was too chilled, colder than death. Above, the world groaned once more. wo valleys east, the decay discovered Silvenrow. This is where traders once sang, where harvest festivals had painted every wall saffron and teal. Now the banners hung in gutters black-soaked.

I hated that after three years of marriage, I still could not tell what he was thinking. “How?” I finally asked. He sighed. “Six years ago, I was engaged to Sophie.” My heart sank. “I know.” Everyone in the business world knew about Damian Sinclair’s broken engagement. The woman had disappeared only weeks before their wedding. People called her a gold digger. Some claimed she had run away with another man. Others believed she had died. No one ever knew the truth. “I did not know she was pregnant when she left.” His voice was calm, but I noticed the tension in his shoulders. “She came back a few weeks ago.”

More than anything, she was concerned about her friend. **** This book is sequel to the first book Innocence. You have to read the first book to know the story clearly. The first book "Innocence" is available here on my Goodnovel profile. And then comes the second book "Innocence || book 2". Thanks for reading. Please vote and comment :)

“I spent practically the whole night incapable of falling asleep, and for the short time that I was able to do so, I had a horrible nightmare.” “How could you not have bad dreams if you keep reading those kinds of books? Look at you, you're all blotchy and pale.” “I think I'd better stay and work from here, if I want to take a nap in any case, no one will interrupt me” “Ok my dear, I'm going to make you a protein breakfast so you can get your strength back.”

I slipped past the front desk, headed straight for the back stacks—old reference books no one touched, dim corners, shelves tall enough to hide two people if they were careful. Hudson was already there. Leaning against the end of a row, one foot propped on the lowest shelf, scrolling his phone like he wasn’t waiting to make out in the middle of school. He looked up when he heard my footsteps. Pocketed his phone. Crooked a finger. I walked straight to him. He caught my wrist, tugged me behind the tallest shelf, pressed my back against the books. The smell of old paper and dust mixed with him—clean sweat, cedar, the faint leftover trace of last night.

In business, one’s hand must get dirty with blood to smell money. He stood up and turned to the bookshelves behind him. His fingers began to trace every book until he got to it. The one which he had replaced its contents with the documents. He had them stapled into the pages as though they were the real book. ‘The Weightiness of Guilt’ reads the title. It used to be his favorite book since he bought this estate. It had helped him a lot in navigating his guilt. Now, none of Sinclair’s men could break into his estate or get past the heavy security in it. None of them.