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I Was Kidnapped, He Married His First Love Novel Cover

I Was Kidnapped, He Married His First Love

When the kidnapper pressed a tactical knife to Falon's throat and demanded a one-million-dollar ransom, she was certain her fiancé would pay. Instead, Jerod's annoyed voice echoed through the speaker. He was busy cutting a cake with his fragile, manipulative mistress, Abby. "Do whatever you want with her," Jerod told the thug. "I am done." The call disconnected. Left to die, Falon was injected with a lethal black-market aphrodisiac. She fought her way out, escaping into the freezing rain, and threw herself at the mercy of a stranger in a black Maybach. That stranger was Bell Farrell, a ruthless billionaire and Jerod's biggest corporate rival. To survive the burning drug and shatter the memories of her fiancé's betrayal, she gave herself to the devil that night. The next morning, Falon woke up in a stranger's bed, staring at her bruised skin. For four years, she had endured her abusive family's cruelty, watching them treat her fake, adopted sister like a princess while using Falon as a corporate pawn. She had compromised everything for Jerod, only to be thrown away like garbage. Why did she have to suffer while the people who destroyed her played the victims? Falon took off her five-carat engagement ring and threw it in the trash. She put on a sharp black suit and crashed her family's elite ballroom gala, ready to burn their high-society facade to the ground.
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Chapter 3

The Maybach descended into the private, underground parking garage of the Tribeca penthouse.

The heavy car doors opened. A blast of cold, subterranean air hit Falon's bare skin. She shivered violently.

Bell did not wait for the driver. He stepped out of the car and pulled Falon into his arms. He lifted her effortlessly.

Falon's arms immediately wrapped around his neck. She buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her hot breath fanned across his pulse point.

Bell carried her to the private elevator. He pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner. The doors slid open.

The elevator shot up to the top floor.

The doors parted, revealing a massive, minimalist penthouse. The interior was a stark contrast of cold black marble, gray steel, and white leather. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a dizzying view of the city below.

Bell walked into the living room. He lowered Falon onto a wide, Italian leather sofa.

He stepped back, intending to go to the kitchen to get her a glass of ice water.

Falon's hand shot out. She grabbed his silk tie. She held on with a desperate, white-knuckled grip.

The sudden pull forced Bell to stop. He dropped down onto one knee at the edge of the sofa. He planted his hands on either side of her head to keep from crushing her.

The fire in Falon's blood was consuming her organs. She needed his skin.

She reached up with trembling fingers. She grabbed the top of his dress shirt. She pulled hard, popping the top two buttons.

Her fingertips brushed against the hard, warm muscle of his chest.

Bell's breathing hitched. His chest expanded rapidly.

He grabbed both of her wrists in one hand. He pinned them to her chest. His eyes darkened, turning into black holes that swallowed all the light in the room.

"If we cross this line, there is no going back," Bell warned. His voice was a low, vibrating threat.

Falon did not hear the warning. Her mind was filled with the echoing sound of Jerod's voice on the phone. Do whatever you want with her. I am done.

The absolute devastation of that betrayal mixed with the chemical fire in her veins. She wanted to erase Jerod. She wanted to feel something else. Anything else.

She looked straight into Bell's eyes.

"Save me," Falon whispered. Her voice broke on a sob.

She lifted her chin and pressed her lips against his throat, right over his Adam's apple.

That single touch destroyed the last thread of Bell's control.

He let out a deep, guttural growl. He released her wrists and grabbed her jaw.

He brought his mouth down on hers.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was a violent collision. It was a punishment and a claim. He forced her lips apart and invaded her mouth, taking all her oxygen.

Falon whimpered into his mouth. Her hands flew to his shoulders. Her nails dug into the expensive fabric of his shirt. She arched her back, pressing her body flush against his.

Bell scooped her up into his arms again. He carried her down the dark hallway.

He kicked open the heavy oak door of the master bedroom.

He threw her onto the center of the massive king-sized bed.

Falon bounced against the soft mattress. She sank into the black velvet duvet. Her wet hair spread out like a dark halo. The ruined designer gown hung off one shoulder. She looked shattered and beautiful.

Bell stood at the edge of the bed. He stripped off his suit jacket and threw it onto the floor. He ripped the silk tie from his neck and wrapped it tightly around his right wrist.

He stared down at her. His chest heaved. He looked like a god demanding a sacrifice.

He climbed onto the bed. He pushed her knees apart with his own.

His rough fingertips traced the curve of her waist. The touch sent a violent shock of electricity through her nervous system.

Falon gasped. She arched her spine off the mattress. Her hands blindly grabbed at his broad back, seeking purchase.

Suddenly, the sharp, shrill sound of the penthouse doorbell echoed through the apartment.

The video intercom on the nightstand lit up. Thaddeus's panicked voice filled the room.

"Bell! I have the counteragent. Open up!"

The noise pierced through the thick fog in Falon's brain. For one split second, reality crashed in. She flinched. Her eyes widened in sudden panic.

Bell felt her body tense. He saw the fear flash in her eyes.

A surge of irrational, possessive rage flared in his chest.

He slammed his hand down on the intercom's mute button. The room plunged back into silence.

He leaned down and bit the sensitive skin of her collarbone. Hard.

He left a dark, red mark on her pale skin. A brand.

Falon cried out from the sharp pain, but the pain instantly morphed into a hollow, aching need. She thrust her hips upward, chasing his weight.

Out in the hallway, the front door beeped. Thaddeus had used his emergency medical override code. The heavy door clicked open.

Bell froze.

He grabbed the thick black silk sheet and pulled it up, covering Falon completely up to her neck. He tucked the edges under her body, hiding every inch of her skin.

He stood up from the bed. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, revealing his sculpted torso. His hair was a mess.

He walked out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him.

Thaddeus rushed into the living room, carrying a silver medical case. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Bell.

The doctor's eyes darted from Bell's unbuttoned shirt to the red scratch marks on his neck. He smelled the heavy, unmistakable scent of arousal in the air.

Thaddeus looked at the closed bedroom door. His jaw dropped.

"Leave the case," Bell ordered. His voice was deadly calm.

"Bell, are you insane?" Thaddeus hissed. "Whoever is in there, she has black market narcotics in her system. This is a massive liability."

Bell walked forward. He snatched the silver case out of Thaddeus's hand.

He grabbed his friend by the shoulder, spun him around, and shoved him toward the front door.

"Get out," Bell said.

He pushed Thaddeus into the hallway and slammed the door shut. The lock engaged with a heavy clunk.

Bell turned around. He walked slowly back to the master bedroom. His eyes burned with a dark, obsessive fire.

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