Contract With A Monster: The Heiress's Revenge
It was my birthday, but instead of celebrating, I was bleeding on the floor of my own bedroom. My sister Serena had just smashed a champagne bottle over my legs, her eyes filled with a dark madness because our father allowed me to wear the family diamonds.
To escape her, I bolted into a pitch-black guest suite, only to be grabbed by a man who felt like a wall of solid muscle. He was drugged, unstable, and pinned me against the wall, his teeth sinking into my neck in a primal claim that left a permanent mark.
I managed to flee, but the nightmare was just beginning. My father didn't care about my injuries; he only cared that I had "insulted" the man in that room—Delos French, the most powerful CEO in New York. He threatened to stop paying for my mother’s critical care facility unless I went to Delos and begged for his forgiveness.
My brother Julian was even worse, intentionally pouring scalding coffee over my bandaged wounds just to see me flinch. They forced me into a revealing gold dress, treating me like a high-priced commodity to be sold to the highest bidder to save their failing company.
I didn't understand how the people who were supposed to love me could be more predatory than the monster in the dark. I had spent my life fixing their scandals, yet they were ready to throw me to the wolves the moment I became useful as a pawn.
But when I stood before Delos French at his gala, he didn't see a trophy. He recognized my scent, my touch, and the fire in my eyes. He trapped me in his private lounge, kneeling to clean the blood from my injured feet.
"Marry me," he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And I will give you the power to burn your family to the ground."
I looked into the eyes of the man who had hunted me and realized he was the only one offering me a weapon to destroy the people who had broken me.
"Okay," I whispered.
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Chapter 7
The ballroom at the Pierre Hotel was a sea of tuxedos and jewels. The air smelled of expensive perfume and ambition.
Eve walked in on Richard's arm. She felt the eyes on her immediately. The gold dress was doing its job. It caught the light, making her look like a walking trophy.
She kept her head high, but her eyes were scanning the room.
Up on the mezzanine level, behind a pane of tinted glass, Delos French sat in a leather chair.
He was watching the monitors.
"The earring is a custom piece from the 'Monarch' collection," Marcus said, standing beside him. "Only three pairs were sold in New York."
"Find them," Delos said. His voice was flat. He twirled the single diamond butterfly in his fingers. The sharp point pricked his skin.
He looked down at the crowd. He saw Richard Harmon enter. He saw the woman in gold.
He frowned. She was flashy. Ostentatious. Everything he hated. But there was something about the way she walked. A slight hesitation in her left step.
Pain? Or just bad shoes?
He dismissed her. She was just another Harmon decoration.
Down on the floor, Eve extricated herself from Richard.
"Work the room," Richard hissed before disappearing toward the bar.
Eve exhaled. She found a pillar and stood behind it, trying to disappear.
"There you are."
Carter Sterling appeared, holding two flutes of champagne. He was handsome in a plastic, Ken-doll sort of way.
"You look edible, Eve," Carter said, looking at her chest.
"I'm working, Carter," Eve said, refusing the drink.
"Come on. One drink." He stepped closer, invading her space.
Before Eve could answer, an arm wrapped around her waist. A heavy, possessive arm.
"She's busy, Carter," Julian said, appearing out of nowhere. He pulled Eve against his side.
Eve felt bile rise in her throat. She was trapped between two predators.
"Excuse me," she muttered. "Ladies' room."
She broke free and walked fast. Her heel dug into her cut with every step, sending spikes of pain up her leg.
She turned the corner into the quiet hallway leading to the restrooms.
A man was walking toward her. Broad shoulders. Earpiece.
Eve stopped. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
It was the bodyguard. The one who had stood in the doorway of the suite. Marcus.
He looked at her. His gaze lingered for a second too long. He seemed to be analyzing her face, searching his memory.
Eve forced herself to keep walking. Don't run. Don't look guilty.
She nodded politely as they passed.
Marcus nodded back. "Ma'am."
As soon as he was behind her, Eve practically fell into the restroom. She locked the stall door and leaned against it, gasping for air.
He hadn't recognized her. Not yet.
Outside the stall, two women were fixing their makeup.
"Did you hear?" one said. "Delos French is actually here. Upstairs."
"He's terrifying," the other giggled. "They say he fired his own mother from the board."
"I heard he's a sociopath. No emotions. Just numbers."
Eve closed her eyes. A sociopath. And she was about to go try to outsmart him.
The PA system chimed. "All bid representatives, please proceed to the Emerald Conference Room."
Eve opened her eyes. She checked the choker. It was tight.
She unlocked the door.
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7.3
Laura Brooks thought she was just an ordinary woman working a normal job-until one reckless night with a stranger changed everything.
Damien Blackwood isn't just dangerously handsome-he's the ruthless Alpha of the most feared werewolf pack in the region. For ten years, he ruled with violence and strength, but the moment he saw Laura, a human, he knew the truth: she was his mate. His Luna. His obsession.
Terrified, Laura tried to run. But fate was cruel. Caught between two rival Alphas-Damien, who would burn the world to keep her, and Kael, who wanted her as a weapon to destroy him-Laura was dragged into a world of blood, betrayal, and war.
Laura's fate is sealed in violence. To save her life and their unborn child, Damien makes the one choice that changes everything: he turns her.
Now Laura is no longer just human. She is Alpha's mate. She is Luna. And the world will learn why no one steals from Damien Blackwood.
7.7
I was driving through a rainstorm in upstate New York, pushing my old Volvo to the limit just to pick up a Dior gown for my wife, Catarina. She needed it for a gala tonight, where she planned to spend the evening standing next to the man she actually loved, Atticus Deleon.
The truck hit me head-on, crossing the center line and sending my car rolling down an embankment in a shriek of twisted metal and shattered glass. As the steering column crushed my chest, my brain didn't see a white light; it was pried open by a digital tsunami, flooding my mind with the "Quantum Archive"-billions of data points on surgery, high-frequency trading, and combat.
I woke up in the ICU with three broken ribs and a concussion, but the only thing waiting for me was a screaming voicemail from my wife's assistant.
"Jorden, where the hell are you? Catarina has been waiting for thirty minutes! You are so incompetent it's actually impressive."
There was no "Are you okay?" or "Are you alive?"-only fury over a ruined dress and a missing tie. While I was being resuscitated, my wife was on Instagram, singing "Endless Love" with Atticus and laughing at my "tantrum." She even called the family lawyer to freeze my credit cards, wanting to make sure I couldn't even buy a coffee without her permission.
For three years, I had been the "useful husband," the doormat who apologized whenever she stepped on my toes. But the accident had overwritten my desperation with cold, hard logic, and I realized I had almost died for a woman who viewed me as a liability with a negative return on investment.
When Catarina finally stormed into my hospital room to demand an apology for ruining her night, I didn't look at her with the usual puppy-dog eyes. I looked at her with ice in my veins and handed her a manila envelope I had drafted myself.
"Sign the divorce papers, Ms. Evans. I'm done being your canary."
7.5
"Let's play a game."
"What game?"
"One that involves you not screaming."
★★★★★
I'd been the perfect girlfriend to my star hockey player for two years.
Stood in the rain at his practices. Drove hours just to watch him warm benches. Wore his jersey like it meant something.
And he repaid me by fucking his way through half of Chicago-including the sister of the one man he's been obsessed with for years.
Zane Mercer.
The NHL's most dangerous player. My stepfather's worst enemy. And the man who looked at me like I was something worth destroying the world for.
One impossible offer.
One desperate bet.
One night that changed everything.
Zane doesn't do fake. He doesn't do half measures.
When he tells me I'm his for two months, he means it. In every way that matters.
But Zane has secrets buried so deep they connect to my family's past in ways I never imagined. Dark secrets. Deadly ones.
What starts as a transaction turns into obsession.
What starts as revenge turns into something I can't walk away from.
And what starts as a lie might be the only truth that matters.
They say some men are too dangerous to love.
They're right.
But I was never good at following warnings.
★★★★★
This book contains explicit sexual content, dominant/possessive behavior, morally gray characters, family conflict, and themes that may be triggering. Intended for mature readers 18+.
This isn't your normal hockey romance. It's dark, raw, and unrelenting-where obsession, desire, and power collide, and nothing is off-limits.
9.0
19 years ago, Bethany Delaney was forced to flee the pack in the middle of the night. The Blood Moon attacked the Blue Crescent pack, and her family was murdered in cold blood by the Ruthless and Fearless Alpha Dominic.
3 years later, the revenge comes.
Alpha Dominic Rayleigh is a Ruthless, Fearless Alpha, known and feared by all for his strength and power. He hates the moon goddess for making too many laws for the werewolves, and he swore to kill any girl that the moon goddess gives to him as a mate.
What happens when she finds out that she is his mate that he has sworn to kill?
8.4
Arlene was the illegitimate daughter of the wealthy Boone family, treated worse than a stray dog. To keep her meager scholarship, she had to swallow her pride and apologize to the frat boy who tormented her.
But he didn't just want an apology. He forced her to drink twenty shots of liquor laced with pure capsaicin extract.
"Drink us under the table, or take off your clothes and crawl out."
Arlene drank until her stomach tore, vomiting blood and collapsing on the filthy club floor.
When she dragged her half-dead body back to the Boone estate, her biological father and half-sister didn't care. Instead, her sister ground Arlene's SAT admission ticket into the dirt with her stiletto.
"Throw her out. Dad doesn't want to look at her before Hardie's engagement."
The guards threw her onto the gravel, leaving her bleeding and barefoot in the freezing night.
Arlene sat shivering at a dark bus stop, her dignity completely stripped away. She never wanted a dime from the Boones, so why did they insist on crushing her only way out? And why did Dr. Hardie Boone, the untouchable head of the family, look at her with such a twisted, terrifying obsession?
When Hardie's black Aston Martin pulled out of the shadows, he scooped her up, took her away, and locked her inside his penthouse.
"You carry the Boone name. Whether you live or die is my decision."
Trapped by the dangerous man who demanded total control over her life, Arlene finally realized that simply running away was no longer an option.
7.6
I went to the City Clerk's office to update my passport, desperate to feel alive again after losing my ability to draw.
Instead, the clerk handed me a reality that killed me.
"Mrs. Crosby," she whispered, her face drained of color. "You aren't married to Bennet. The divorce was finalized three years ago. On October 12th."
The date hit me harder than a physical blow.
October 12th was the day my right hand was crushed.
The day Gianna Skinner, a woman obsessed with my husband, shattered twenty-seven bones in my drawing hand with a marble bust.
Bennet, the most ruthless Don in New York, had promised me justice. He swore he locked Gianna in a dungeon to rot for hurting his "Angel."
But the screen in front of me told a different story.
He had married Gianna the very same day he divorced me.
I drove to the Lake House where she was supposed to be suffering. I didn't find a prison; I found a modern glass palace.
There they were, sitting on a swing set I had designed.
Gianna wasn't rotting. She was laughing in his lap, wearing a silk robe.
"She is so pathetic," Gianna purred, tracing his jaw. "Five years and she still thinks she is the Lady of the house."
Bennet chuckled, the sound dark and terrifying.
"She is broken, Gianna. A bird with no wings. She has no value to the Family anymore, except as a trophy on my shelf. She is my pet. You are my fire."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Bennet.
"Happy Anniversary, my Angel. Tonight, I give you the world."
He wasn't giving me the world. He was building a cage out of lies.
Through a bugged ring, I later heard his endgame: he planned to institutionalize me for "mental instability" so he could bring Gianna into the light.
I didn't go home to cry.
I went to my office and opened a secure browser on the dark web.
*Subject: Protocol Erasure.*
*Target: Harper Cline.*
*Execution: Immediate.*
Bennet thought he had broken his pet.
He was about to realize he had just unleashed a lioness.