Contract marriage to my billionaire ex boyfriend's brother
Marissa," he said softly, but there was nothing gentle about it. His voice was low, controlled to the point of fracture. "Walk away. Now. Or I won't be able to stop myself."
The sound slipped from me before I could cage it-a quiet, helpless moan.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze.
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't stop yourself, Carlton."
His last bit of restraint snapped, along with the clasp of my bra
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Chapter 6
Marissa: I sat there for another ten minutes, out of breath... why did he have this much effect on me? I needed to leave, and I needed to leave right now. I made my way to the door on trembling limbs, my body still in shock. The car sat waiting for me outside. I didn't bother waiting for the driver; I stormed in and shut the door behind me. I was quiet the whole ride, my mind reeling from everything that had happened. "That man would be my husband," I whispered. "Are you talking to me, ma'am?" the driver asked. I didn't bother to reply; I just stayed quiet. Justin was the love of my life, but he never made me feel these kinds of emotions that Denver made me feel. When I got home, Camille was sat waiting like I was a delivery package she was eager to unbox. "Soooo... tell me everything." She didn't even let me breathe; she just wanted to get into everything. "Can we do this tomorrow? I'm quite tired." I wasn't tired - I was stirring with different emotions. I couldn't even tell my sister anything. "No, no, no... tell me everything now." This girl and her controlling tone. No wonder she never really got along with younger men. "Fine, gosh, I hate you." I was a bit better. I wasn't in shock anymore... I just couldn't get him off my mind. "Okay, go on. Spill. Did you guys kiss?" I shot her a glare. "Kiss? Camille, I barely know this man," I scolded. But a part of me wished we had kissed. "I got there," I continued. "I met him, and he is a very handsome man... but he is so arrogant, the kind of arrogance that drives me crazy, Camille." "Drives you crazy... like you want to...?" she said with a mischievous grin. I rolled my eyes, already knowing what she was thinking. "Hell no. No one is doing anything here." Maybe not now, at least. A little smile threatened to form, but I fought it so my sister wouldn't see. "He also said something about a contract. Who gives a contract for a marriage? And those contracts would have rules included in them." "Rulesssss!" she screeched. "Is it a joke?" Her voice was dark, her eyes narrowed. She was angry. "He said there'd be rules in this marriage that I'd have to follow. I genuinely couldn't wrap my head around his personality." But I liked the dominance in his tone whenever he spoke. "I don't think you can marry him. What's with all the rules and regulations when it's not some sort of constitutional dictatorship?" I laughed. Seeing my sister get a bit annoyed was funny - she was the one advocating for this marriage. "Well, I already sort of agreed to the marriage by going to see him. It's already too late to turn him down now." "Is it too late, or do you actually like him and that's why you want to marry him?" "Pfftt - like whooo??? I don't even know the man." Do I like him? "Then if you don't like him, call him right now and tell him you are not interested anymore. I wouldn't want you to get into this marriage and regret it." "Camille - I need to go rest." A knock sounded at the door. We both froze. I wasn't expecting anyone, and neither was Camille. "Expecting someone?" my sister asked with a raised eyebrow. "No, I'm not expecting anyone." I frowned curiously, getting up to see who it was. I opened the door, and he stood there, right in front of me. Denver - what was he doing here? "I thought it was right to at least ask your parents if it would be okay to marry their daughter." I couldn't believe he drove all the way here to get consent. "May I come in?" I just moved out of the way, and he entered, still beaming with that confidence that hovers around him. "Who are you?" Camille asked the moment she spotted him confidently making his way in. "My name is Denver, and I am getting married to your sister next week. I would like to see your parents." My sister and I shot each other a glance. Even Camille was shocked at the audacity of this man.
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8.8
They say tough situations don't last, but tough people do.
They are bloody liars, whoever said that.
My tough situation didn't make me stronger. It pushed me into the arms of Elias Thorne. CEO of Blackwood Holdings. One of the richest men in the country. And, apparently, my fake husband.
I'm just a contract wife. A transaction. He needs me to secure his standing in the company. He hates me and I don't care. I need his money, his influence, his resources, anything to save my mother's and sister's life.
Forty-five days. Then I walk away.
That was the deal.
No love or feelings. Just business.
But a penthouse is smaller than it looks. And forced proximity has a way of cracking open doors you swore you locked up.
He has his own wounds. His own ghosts. And sometimes, when he looks at me, I swear he's not seeing a contract at all.
Forty-five days.
Either we walk away untouched.
Or we burn.
7.7
Eva Brooks, a 25-year-old woman, was set up by her best friend. Her fiancé broke up with her and demanded compensation for allegedly cheating on him.
Eva had a one-night stand with the richest CEO in Dominic City, Ethan Owen. He was arrogant and offered her a job as his secretary.
As his secretary, Ethan couldn't shake his fondness for Eva. He became obsessed with her, worrying that she was cheating on him.
He broke up with his fiancée to become engaged to Eva, but will his fiancée let him go? Will Eva accept a relationship with her boss?
8.1
I was supposed to be the lucky one, the bankrupt Beaumont heiress engaged to Devyn Langley, the golden boy of Boston's elite.
But the moment I landed from Europe, my best friend shoved a high-definition photo in my face. It was Devyn, tangled in white sheets with another woman.
I didn't cry. Instead, I planted hidden cameras in his secret Manhattan penthouse and heard the disgusting truth.
"When are you going to dump that boring bitch?" his mistress whined.
"Soon. As soon as her family's final trust fund payout clears. Then I'll toss her out like trash," Devyn laughed.
To add insult to injury, he removed me from the guest list of his family's charity gala.
When I showed up anyway, his mother pointed a shaking finger at my face in front of the entire upper crust.
"You are a charity case! A beggar! Get out!" she screamed, while Devyn demanded I get on my knees and apologize.
They paraded around like saints, using my family's tragedy for good PR while secretly plotting to steal my last penny and destroy me.
Did they really think I was just a weak, compliant fiancée who would quietly accept her ruin?
Wearing a blood-red dress, I hacked the ballroom's main screen and broadcasted his 4K sex tape to every billionaire and reporter in the room.
Then, I threw my five-carat ring at his chest and walked away with Kian Koch—the most terrifying man on Wall Street—leaving the Langley empire to burn.
7.2
I thought I was just marrying a middle-class commercial pilot who proposed to me in a Brooklyn cemetery to fulfill his grandmother's bizarre dying wish.
But when an arrogant pilot tried to harass me at the airport, my "ordinary" husband suddenly appeared, his eyes like chips of ice.
"Take your hand off my wife."
With that single cold command, he had the airline's top executives groveling and the man practically fired on the spot.
Everyone called him "Mr. Chandler." He handed me an exclusive black Centurion card, claiming it was just a standard "manager's perk." His retired parents, who supposedly ran a small business, visited me wearing Patek Philippe watches. I ignored all the glaring red flags, foolishly believing I had just lucked into a stable, caring marriage after a lifetime of disappointments.
Yet, despite his constant, suffocating generosity, he kept a physical wall between us. After a kiss so desperate and hungry it felt like he had been starving for it his entire life, he violently pushed me away.
"We should take this slow."
I couldn't understand why a man who looked at me with such intense, possessive devotion would treat our marriage like a sterile business deal. Why was he orchestrating every perfect detail of my life while refusing to even share a bed with me?
I had no idea that the man sleeping in the guest room wasn't a pilot at all. He was Harmon Chandler, the ruthless billionaire emperor of the Chandler Group. And he had been secretly monitoring my every move for ten years.
7.1
I was the top commander of a black-ops military program. After slaughtering my way through a hellish mission, I reached the extraction helicopter, trusting my second-in-command to watch my back.
But the moment our hands locked, he didn't pull me up. Instead, he plunged a syringe of lethal neurotoxin directly into my neck.
He aimed his gun at my chest, coldly stating that I was too dangerous to live. My lungs stopped, and I died in a pool of my own blood. But the endless blackness suddenly shattered. My consciousness violently forced its way into a new, broken shell. I woke up in a freezing alley, soaked in muddy rain.
This body belonged to seventeen-year-old Eliza Wyatt. A massive wave of foreign memories crashed into my brain. Her own younger sister had just stood at the top of the stairs with a mocking smile, watching street thugs beat Eliza to death.
"Take good care of the Wyatt family's eldest daughter. Tonight is the night she finally disappears."
The endless humiliation, the cold stares of her family, and the brutal betrayal by her own blood flashed before my eyes. Why was this fragile girl treated like garbage and pushed to her death by the very people who should have protected her?
I looked down at my pale, trembling hands. The top commander was dead, but in this bleeding shell, Eliza Wyatt was very much alive. I picked up a switchblade from the bloody puddle and stood up in the storm. It was time to hunt.
8.9
For fifteen years, I thought my mother had died in a tragic fire.
Then the wealthy Ross family's butler knocked on my door, revealing she was alive—locked away in the psychiatric annex of their massive estate.
I rushed into the lion's den to save her, only to run straight into Graydon Ross, the ruthless billionaire CEO.
He looked at my cheap clothes with pure disgust, convinced I was a bottom-feeding scammer trying to extort his family.
"Throw this bitch out into the snow."
He ordered his armed guards to drag me away, completely cutting off my only chance to see my mentally broken mother.
But as he violently grabbed my collar to throw me out, I saw a custom eagle-head cufflink hanging from his coat pocket.
My blood turned to ice, and a wave of paralyzing terror crashed over me.
Eight months ago, I accidentally slept with a masked stranger in a pitch-black hotel room and fled before dawn.
That cufflink belonged to him.
The man who took my virginity—the Wall Street tyrant I had been hiding from—was Graydon Ross.
If he ever found out I was that woman, he would literally destroy my life.
But to save my mother, I couldn't be thrown out.
When his grandmother suddenly appeared, I dropped to the floor, exposed the dark bruises Graydon had just left on my wrists, and sobbed.
I framed the billionaire for assault to secure my place in the mansion, forcing myself to live right next door to the monster whose bed I had fled.