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?
Chapters
Share
Chapter 9
They all watched her finish the drink.
The tequila burned on the way down, sharp, and punishing, but she welcomed it. It gave her something solid to focus on. Something that wasn't Derek sitting inches away. Something that wasn't Jack not calling.
Before anyone could comment, she reached for another shot but she didn't get far. Derek's hand came down over hers. His fingers wrapped around her hand completely, dwarfing it. Warm. Solid. The pad of his thumb pressed lightly against her knuckles as if anchoring her there.
A current shot straight up her spine and her breath caught in her throat.
His palm was broad. Hard. Calloused in a way that suggested he used his hands for more than just signing documents. His fingers were long - of course they were long. He was tall, built, everything about him scaled larger than life. What the hell did she expect?
It didn't stop her mind from betraying her though. From wondering - vividly, and traitorously - what those hands would feel like elsewhere. At her waist. At her throat. Spanning her hip.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and It took her a full second to realize he'd spoken. "What?" she asked, a little too quickly, almost embarrassed.
Derek's eyes held hers, steady and assessing. "Go easy on the drinks," he said quietly. "If you go too fast, the effect hits harder. Faster. And you won't actually enjoy it."
His voice was low, almost lost beneath the music, but she heard every word. That didn't sound like a terrible idea. Except she didn't want to enjoy it properly. She wanted it to hit hard. To blur edges. To dull awareness. Especially with him this close... with his hand still wrapped around hers like it belonged there.
Her pulse thudded louder. Abruptly, she pulled her hand back, and the contact broke like a snapped wire. She half expected him to look offended with the way she'd withdrawn.
He didn't. But the way his eyes lingered on her, sharp, and attentive, told her he noticed everything. "Are you alright?" he asked.
And damn it, there was real concern in his voice and expression. That almost made it worse. What was she supposed to say? 'No, actually. My relationship is cracking in slow motion and I can't stop reacting to you like my body didn't get the memo that I'm taken.'
Instead, she asked quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You seem tense," he replied," Well, you were the other day when we met, but it seems to be on another level tonight,"
Olivia shook her head, "I'm fine. Thanks."
A lie. Thin and fragile. Derek studied her for a moment longer, like he was debating calling it out. Then he smiled. "Good," he said softly.
He didn't push, and she was thankful for that. The music shifted then - bass heavier, rhythm faster. A popular song exploded through the speakers and cheers rose from different corners of the bar. More people flooded the dance floor, bodies swaying under strobes of gold and crimson light.
"Let's go dance, you guys!" Tessa shouted over the music, already halfway out of the booth.
"Yessss!" Isabella agreed instantly, sliding out beside her.
Olivia forced a smile. Under normal circumstances, she would've followed. Dancing with her girls, losing herself in movement - that had been the plan. But the alcohol was beginning to bloom fully now... warm and heavy in her veins, her head just slightly too light. And Derek's presence next to her felt like standing too close to a live flame.
"I'll join you soon," she told them. "You guys go ahead."
Both Tessa and Isabella paused. Their eyes moved to Derek. Silence.
Derek lifted his hands slightly in mock surrender. "I'll stay here and make sure she's okay."
Tessa's grin widened immediately. Isabella, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes at him in clear warning. Then she turned to Olivia. "We'll give you a few minutes," she said pointedly. "After that, we're coming back to drag you to the dance floor."
Olivia chuckled lightly. "Sure."
"Remember why we came here in the first place, Liv?" Isabella added.
To forget. To loosen up. To stop thinking about Jack. "Yeah," Olivia said. "I remember."
But she suddenly wished that she'd agreed to go with them. She'd assumed Derek would follow them to the dance floor. That was her mistake. From what little she knew of him, Derek Hawthorne didn't follow. He stayed exactly where he wanted to be, and he could be quite persistent as well as charming
Tessa and Isabella disappeared into the crowd, already moving to the music, hands in the air, laughing.
And just like that it was quiet again. Not literally. But between them. Derek leaned back slightly against the booth, one arm draped along the backrest behind her. Not touching, but close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her shoulder.
"You don't look fine," he said after a moment. No teasing this time. No charm. Just quiet certainty.
Olivia stared straight ahead at the dance floor - flashing lights, moving bodies, freedom she suddenly felt excluded from. "I said I was," she replied.
"I don't believe you."
Her jaw tightened as she turned to face him. "Well, I don't care," she told him. "If you're going to sit here with me and bother me, then you should consider taking some shots and staying out of my business because clearly I don't want to talk about it,"
For a second she thought she'd sounded a bit harsh, but she shoved the thought away. She was frustrated with the way she felt around him. For God's sake she knew nothing about this man, except that he was Izzy's brother and that he was nothing like any man she knew. That was obvious at a glance. He was too...intense. Too controlled, in a way that sent alarms ringing through her whole body, straight down into her toes.
Dangerous, that same something in her whispered, and she didn't need danger in her life. All her life she'd avoided men like him who she considered trouble. She preferred safe... And nothing about Derek Hawthorne was safe.
His eyes narrowed, and then to her surprise he laughed, and surprised her once again by reaching for one of those shots.
"Cheers," he said, and emptied the contents into his mouth.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
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.