BAD REPUTATION
It was her hair that fascinated him. The reddish-brown mass was parted high to one side, windswept almost. And then there was her make-up, neutral save for the liner around her eyes and the bold lip colour... was that purple?
His gaze narrowed over it and she must have sensed his attention, her eyes flickering in his direction. "You know, it's rude to stare."
Her voice was husky, a crisp edge that rasped along his spine and sealed her appeal. Derek was hooked. Her eyes were back on the doors, her lack of interest obvious.
He should've taken it as a sign, but since when had he backed off from anything he fancied?
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Chapter 4
"Right, well, I think we're done with this one," she said, unceremoniously shoving the shower screen in his face and almost sending him to his ass on the pink porcelain. "Shall we move on?" she said, already heading out.
"Yup." Isabella nodded, smirking right at him.
He screwed his face up in a childish gesture. Whatever.
"If you both go on down," Olivia said, expertly ignoring their little exchange-thank fuck! The pair of them were doing his ego and renowned charm no favours at all.
"I'll join you shortly," she continued. "I just have to take care of an errand for the owner."
"Great," Isabella said, moving for the front door. "I have a quick call to make so I'll meet you downstairs."
"I'll catch you up," he called after her, pushing the glass door back into place and wondering why the hell he hadn't thought of that.
Perhaps because you haven't been thinking straight since you saw her? He shook his head, brushing the entire incident off as he followed in Olivia's direction.
"Can I have a quick word?" he asked, entering the kitchenette hot on her tail. His intention had been to talk budget with Isabella out of earshot but as Olivia turned in the small space, hemmed in as they were by the cupboards and the breakfast bar, all thoughts of conversation evaporated.
"Yes," she said, her eyes wary as they lifted to his, her hands coming to rest on the countertop either side of her as she backed up against it. "But first you need to stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
He knew the answer well enough, but how would she describe it, what she saw in him? She was good with words-she'd demonstrated it repeatedly throughout the day, when eloquently describing the features of each potential abode. And in truth, he could listen to her talk and talk and talk. Perhaps that was why he was so keen to criticise: he wasn't ready for her job to come to an end; he wasn't ready for her to complete a sale for his sister and vacate his life.
He watched her eyelids flutter, her tongue flicking out to moisten that bottom lip he was so fascinated with. Was she nervous? Was it because of him?
"You know what." Her eyes dropped to his mouth, their depths revealing in their helpless nature, and his lips curled upwards. So she wasn't as unaffected by him as she'd have him believe. Good to know.
Power surged, his ego with it. "What if I said I can't help it?"
Her eyes snapped back to his. "Then make yourself help it because this -" she wagged a finger between them "-isn't happening."
"No?" He stepped forward and her eyes widened, her lips parting on a ragged breath.
"No." She gave a small shake of her head, the move sending a lock across her forehead and he itched to push it back. "I don't date clients."
"Technically," he said, his voice gruff even to his own ears, "I'm not a client."
"You're as good as."
"I disagree."
"Whether you disagree or not, I don't care," she rushed out. "I'm not falling into this trap."
His brow knitted together; she'd flummoxed him now. "Trap?" he repeated.
She paled, her words seeming to surprise even her, and then she visibly recovered, her chin rising, to say, "The kind of trap where I let this get in the way of my business."
He studied her face, her sincerity. "You sound like you're speaking from experience." He didn't like the idea one bit. Oh, the irony. "I take it you've not always been so averse to dating clients?"
She hesitated, her teeth worrying over her lower lip and teasing at his concentration. Was she going to evade giving him an answer? Or should he just kiss her and be done with the whole conversation? He was veering towards the latter when she spoke.
"Not my clients, no, my ex-business partner...we...we were together." She dragged in a breath and straightened, her focus coming back,
"It was a long time ago... And hence why this just isn't happening."
He faltered, his brain telling him to agree, to move past the pull that was driving him to distraction. She's so not your type. She seems like a bag of emotion. She's not safe in your hands.
Instead he found himself saying, "You're overthinking it. As much as Izzy loves me, she clearly loves you too. She's your friend and already bought into your skills as an estate agent, as have I, for that matter. Nothing between us will sway her to go elsewhere."
You idiot, why pursue her? She doesn't fit with your no-strings rule. This woman goes in for attachment. Worse still, she's been burned by it already and probably still suffering.
But then, if that's the case, maybe she's ready for the no-strings alternative. Maybe she's ready to become your type.
"You have my word," he pressed gently.
You bastard.
___________
Olivia lifted her eyes at his soft declaration and immediately regretted it.
He hovered just above her, his wolf-like gaze burning into her own, the rush of warmth it inspired sending her toes curling inside her Louboutins. She held his eye; was he for real? "Your word?"
He made an affirmative noise deep in his throat, almost enticing a reciprocal one from her as it strummed at the heat swelling down low.
"I'm willing to bet you're just as caught up in this attraction as me," he said huskily. "And if that's the case, you'll realise this is about a bit of fun; no harm, no foul, no jeopardised business arrangement."
"You reckon?" She sounded breathless, out of control.
No, no, don't let this happen. He nodded and raised his hand, her breath catching as she anticipated his touch, wanting and dreading it all the same, knowing that it was wrong and when it came she would lose herself in it, in him. So why the hell wasn't she discouraging him more and moving away? What was happening to her?
"I'm not very good at...fun." She threw his description back at him, desperately clinging to what she knew to be true even as the heat of his hand brushed beneath her jaw, his touch so light it was barely there. And she wanted it there. Wanted every one of those fingers pressed into her skin as he kissed her.
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8.4
I worked three double shifts at the garage just to buy a velvet-boxed cake for my wealthy girlfriend, Arleen.
But when I pushed open the VIP room door, I saw her lover kissing her bare leg.
She didn't push him away. Instead, she laughed and swirled her martini.
"I only forgot Finn because I knew he would stay. He is a poor boy from Queens who follows me around like a loyal dog."
Later that night, her lover intentionally crashed a Porsche to scare me, sending a piece of jagged metal into my skull.
Lying in a growing pool of my own blood, I watched Arleen crawl out of the wreckage.
She didn't even look at me. She threw herself at her uninjured lover, screaming for a medic.
"He just got scraped by a piece of plastic. He is faking it. Deal with Jaquez first!"
When I woke up, I wasn't free. Arleen had locked me in a private hospital wing with 24-hour security, planning to isolate me and keep me as her broken, captive toy forever.
My blind, pathetic devotion finally froze into absolute disgust.
I looked at the heart monitor next to my bed and grabbed an IV needle.
I severed the sensor wire to trigger a flatline, slipped out the fire stairs while the nurses panicked, and burned my identity to ashes.
This time, I was going to disappear to London, build my own empire, and watch hers burn.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
8.0
I sat at a table for two in the center of Le Coucou, clutching a gift box that had cost me two months of savings. It was our three-year anniversary, and I was waiting for Gavin to finally ask the big question.
But when the heavy oak doors opened, Gavin didn't walk toward me with a ring. He walked in with a polished blonde heiress tucked under his arm, her hand resting protectively over a small baby bump.
"This is Tiffany Stone. My fiancée," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't apologize for being late or for the three years we'd spent together. Instead, he pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and slid a ten-thousand-dollar check across the white tablecloth.
"Consider it severance for your time," he added, as Tiffany mocked my cheap drugstore dress. "Don't contact me again. Tiffany doesn't need the stress." I was the entertainment for the entire restaurant—the pathetic girl dumped for a better model. By the time I walked out into the rain, I had lost my boyfriend, my home, and the funding for my secret medical research project.
I was an orphan with no safety net, facing an eviction notice and a ruined career. I had given Gavin everything, and he had discarded me like a broken tool. The injustice burned in my chest, a hot, sharp rage that replaced my tears.
Desperate and freezing, I ducked into a coffee shop where I met Colton Bentley, a reclusive billionaire in a wheelchair. After I defended him from a cruel date, he offered me a contract: a marriage of convenience and a seven-figure payment to act as his shield. I signed the papers that night, ready to use his wealth to rebuild my life. But as I watched my new husband navigate his penthouse, I noticed his "paralyzed" legs tense with a strength that shouldn't exist.
7.4
For five years, Jodi was the perfect, compliant secret lover to billionaire CEO Armand Taylor.
Then, she woke up to a cold email and a seven-figure wire transfer. Armand was marrying European royalty. The money was a severance package to quietly warehouse her out of sight.
Refusing to be his dirty secret, Jodi invoked her contract's termination clause to leave for good. But Armand wouldn't let her go easily. He forced her to personally train her vicious new replacement, Selah.
Selah immediately tampered with a crucial financial file, framing Jodi for sabotaging Taylor Corp's multi-billion-dollar tech acquisition.
Without a second thought, Armand took the new girl's side. He cornered Jodi in the boardroom, his eyes dead and cold.
"You have three days to fix this. If you fail, I will personally see to it that you go to prison for corporate fraud."
He froze her bank accounts and stripped away her dignity, ready to destroy her life over a blatant lie.
He thought she was just a weak, discarded toy who would break under his threats.
What Armand didn't know was the terrifying secret Jodi had just discovered hidden at the bottom of her bathroom trash can.
Three positive pregnancy tests.
If the ruthless billionaire found out she was carrying his heir, he would never let her escape.
Wiping her tears, Jodi slipped into a severe black silk gown and crashed an exclusive Hamptons gala to intercept the tech CEO herself.
This time, she wasn't playing the obedient lover. She was going to clear her name and burn Armand's empire to the ground.
9.8
I was an unwanted foster kid taken in by the Goodwin family, about to marry into the wealthy Cantu family to secure my adoptive father's power.
But at my rehearsal dinner, my adoptive mother drugged my champagne, intending to have me assaulted and ruined.
The next morning, my fiancé and my sister burst into my hotel room with a swarm of reporters, pointing fingers in manufactured horror.
"You filthy whore! The engagement is over!"
My fiancé roared for the cameras, while my sister sobbed about my betrayal. They had brought the press to publicly slaughter me, justifying their own secret affair while my adoptive family cursed me as a disgusting stray.
For years, I had endured their toxic abuse, only to be thrown to the wolves so my sister could steal my life. They truly believed I was just a helpless pawn they could crush and discard.
But they didn't know I had anticipated their trap and deliberately walked into the bed of Dorian Underwood—the ruthless billionaire and the only man the Cantu family actually feared.
As I calmly hit 'send' to broadcast my fiancé's explicit sex tape to every reporter in the hallway, I met Dorian's dark, predatory gaze.
I wasn't just surviving anymore; I was going to tear both their empires to the ground.
9.4
Vera thought her life was over the moment she caught her fiancee cheating with his ex.
Broken and filled with pain, she is approached by a billionaire who presents a simple contract to her. Let's get married.
Sylas Gold is the man admired by the entire world. He is untouchable, powerful and incredibly controlled. Their marriage was supposed to be a contract. A performance. It was a way for both of them to win.
When Vera is kidnapped by a man who looks at her like she's already his, she learns the truth Sylas never told her, about his mafia empire, the blood, and the brother who was supposed to be gone.
Cassian Gold is the man who wants everything his brother has, including Vera.
Now caught between two brothers bound by hatred, power, and obsession, Vera must decide who to trust in a world where love is dangerous, loyalty is fragile, and desire might just be her downfall.