Loving him is a sin I can't escape
Five years ago, Elena Moretti walked away from Dominic Russo without explanation-leaving him to face the collapse of his father's empire alone.
Now Dominic is no longer the reckless man she once loved. He's a ruthless billionaire CEO with power, influence... and a memory that hasn't forgotten betrayal.
When he acquires the company Elena works for, he offers her a deal she can't refuse: work under him for six months-or watch her family's name be dragged through a financial scandal from the past.
Forced into close proximity, old wounds reopen and buried secrets threaten to surface. But the more time they spend together, the more dangerous the tension becomes.
Because hatred is easier than forgiveness.
And love?
Love is guilty as sin.
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Chapter 4
The rain hadn't stopped since morning. It streaked down the windows of Blackwood Tower, turning the skyline of New York City into a blur of grey and silver. Elena stood in Dominic Russo's office again-but this time there was no boardroom audience. Just him. And a contract lying between them like a loaded weapon.
"You've read it," Dominic said calmly. It wasn't a question. Elena's fingers tightened around the papers.
"You want me to pretend to be your fiancée."
"For six months," he corrected.
"In exchange for clearing my father's name."
"Yes."
Her chest burned. "This isn't business."
"No," he agreed quietly. "It isn't."
He rose from behind his desk and walked toward her slowly, like a predator closing distance. Every movement deliberate. Controlled.
"You left me with a scandal," he continued. "Now you help me erase one."
She met his eyes. "You're using me."
His gaze darkened.
"You used me first."
The accusation still cut.
"I never betrayed you," she whispered.
"You walked away."
"You didn't give me a chance to explain."
"You didn't try."
Silence fell. Thick. Heavy. Dangerous. Dominic stopped inches from her.
"Six months," he said quietly." Public engagement. Appearances. Dinners. Media."
"And after?"
"After," he said evenly, "we end it."
Her pulse fluttered at the coldness in his tone.
"You're that confident you won't feel anything?"
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"I don't repeat mistakes."
The words stung more than she expected.
Elena looked down at the contract again.
"You really think pretending to marry me fixes your image?"
"It stabilizes investor confidence," he replied. "And sends a message."
"What message?"
His eyes held hers.
"That I'm not alone."
The honesty in that answer startled her. Before she could respond, the office door opened without warning. A woman stepped inside. Tall. Perfect posture. Diamond earrings that caught the dim light. Blonde. Elegant. Controlled. She stopped when she saw Elena. Then she smiled.
Polite. Calculated.
"Dominic," she said smoothly. "I didn't realize you were busy." Elena felt the shift instantly. Dominic didn't move away from her. In fact-
He stepped closer.
"This isn't a meeting," he said calmly.
The woman's eyes flicked between them.
"Oh?"
Dominic placed a firm hand at Elena's waist.
Possessive.
Intentional.
"This," he said, "is Elena."
A beat of silence.
Then-
"My fiancée."
_
The word hit the room like thunder. Elena's heart skipped-but she didn't pull away. The blonde woman's smile didn't disappear. But it sharpened.
"Fiancée?" she repeated lightly.
"Yes."
"How unexpected."
Her gaze locked onto Elena now. Vivian Laurent.
Elena didn't know her personally-but she knew the name. Old money. Board connections. Family friend. Meaning: chosen. "Congratulations," Vivian said smoothly, extending her hand. Elena took it. The grip was firm. Measured. "You're back," Vivian added softly. Not a question. A statement. Dominic's hand tightened slightly at Elena's waist. "Yes," he said. "She is." Vivian's eyes flickered to the contract on the desk. Understanding dawned instantly. Her smile returned-but thinner.
"Your father won't approve."
Dominic's expression went cold.
"My father doesn't control my life."
Vivian tilted her head.
"No," she agreed softly. "But he still controls the board."
Silence. Heavy. Elena felt it then. This wasn't just about revenge. This was about power. And Vivian was part of it. Vivian stepped closer to Dominic. Close enough that Elena saw the history in her eyes.
"You should be careful," Vivian murmured.
Dominic's jaw flexed. "Careful of what?"
"Of repeating old patterns."
Her gaze slid deliberately to Elena.
"And trusting the wrong woman."
The insult was subtle.
But clear.
Elena's spine straightened.
"I don't need to be trusted," she said calmly. "Just chosen."
Vivian's smile faltered. Just slightly. Dominic looked down at Elena then. And something changed in his expression. Not anger. Not revenge. Something darker. More personal. Vivian stepped back. "I'll inform the board about the engagement," she said smoothly. "I'm sure they'll have... opinions." The door closed behind her. Silence swallowed the room. Dominic removed his hand from Elena's waist slowly.
"You didn't tell me about her," she said.
"She wasn't relevant."
"She looked very relevant."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"She was my father's preferred alliance."
"Marriage alliance?"
"Yes."
The honesty unsettled her.
"And now?"
He stepped closer again.
Close enough that her breath caught.
"Now," he said quietly, "she's a problem."
A chill slid down her spine.
"For you?" she asked.
"For anyone who stands in my way."
The intensity in his voice made her heart race.
"This engagement," she said carefully, "isn't just about image, is it?"
His gaze held hers steadily.
"No."
"Then what is it about?"
A long pause.
Then-
"You."
Her pulse stumbled.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one that matters."
He reached for the contract and slid it toward her again.
"Sign it."
Her hand hesitated. Because suddenly, this didn't feel like pretending. It felt like stepping into a battlefield. And Vivian's warning echoed in her head. Dominic doesn't do second chances.
Elena picked up the pen. "Six months," she said quietly.Dominic's eyes darkened. "Six months."
She signed. The sound of ink against paper felt louder than thunder. Dominic signed beneath her name. It was official. But as he looked at her-
Not cold. Not triumphant. Something else.
Something possessive. Her phone buzzed suddenly. A notification lit up the screen. Breaking News: Russo Enterprises Announces Engagement. She froze.
Slowly, she looked up at him.
"You said we'd announce it next week."
Dominic didn't look surprised.
"I changed my mind."
"Why?"
His expression hardened.
"Because if the board moves first..."
His jaw tightened.
"They'll destroy you."
Her blood ran cold.
"You mean they already know."
Dominic's silence was answer enough. And for the first time Elena realized she wasn't just pretending to be his fiancée. She was being used as a shield.
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8.4
Hazel Dawson has a crazy past, she's called the wealthiest billionaire a crazy bastard to his face without knowing.
When the company she's working for suddenly gets sold to the youngest but ruthless businessman in the city- Xavier Steele- known for his crazy unpredictable ways, Hazel has no choice but to bear it and accept his overbearing requests as his secretary.
But one night, when Xavier gets wounded after saving Hazel from an armed gunman,Hazel learns that her Boss might not be all that he looks like on the surface.
In a two confined offices located at the top of the building separate from several workers, Roses bloom but thorns follow.
Just when love seems within reach, Hazel is accused of stealing confidential contracts. With whispers of betrayal, a haunting past, and a string of murders circling the company, Hazel must clear her name-and her heart.
Can Hazel prove that she did not steal the company's contracts for personal gain?
Will Xavier look past his nagging belief of the wealthy belong together and go back to his ex?
And with the increasing murders that keep getting tied to the company as the common denominator, what does this evil-doer hiding in the shadows aim to achieve?
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
8.3
Three years into marriage, Rachael gave her all to Xander, even secretly using her newfound heiress fortune to save his struggling company.
But the truth shattered her—her marriage certificate was fake, and his "childhood friend" was his real wife all along.
When she confronted him, he shrugged her off with, "She's just a friend."
Enough was enough. Rachael went back to her real family, soared in her career, and married Xander's rival.
When Xander begged for another chance, her new husband pulled her close, flashing their marriage certificate.
"She's already married—to me."
7.0
For three years, Breanna gave up her brilliant career as a top-tier perfumer to be the perfect housewife for her billionaire husband, Hartwell.
But when he finally returned from a three-month business trip to Paris, he didn't even glance at the dinner she had carefully prepared. Instead, he threw a divorce agreement on the table.
He gave her thirty days to move out and offered a ridiculously low settlement. When she cried and asked if there was someone else, he looked at her with absolute disgust.
"You used to smell like ambition and possibility. Now you smell like cooking oil and the desperation of a woman who has nothing outside her husband. You're a trap."
He threatened to bury her in legal fees if she didn't sign. Heartbroken and confused, Breanna forced his assistant to reveal what really happened in Paris. The truth was humiliating. Hartwell had been spending all his time with a twenty-six-year-old genius perfumer—a girl who was the exact mirror image of who Breanna used to be before she sacrificed everything for him.
He didn't just want a new woman. He wanted a younger, untainted replacement of her past self.
Wiping away her tears, Breanna's grief instantly hardened into cold, calculated rage. She tore up his insulting settlement and prepared to fight back, completely unaware that her cruel husband was currently hiding in a hotel room, coughing up blood, deliberately playing the villain to force her to survive his impending death.
8.3
I spent three months in Zurich securing banking rights for my family's pack. I couldn't wait to give my five-year-old daughter, Lily, the rare Starlight Moonstone Beast I’d bought to soothe her shifting pains.
But before I landed, I saw a photo online: my husband's "distant nephew" was playing with that very toy in my living room.
I rushed to the Pack Academy, only to find a teacher raising a riding crop laced with wolfsbane against my child.
Instead of protecting us, my husband, Austyn, stepped out with a woman wearing my furs and my grandmother’s emerald necklace.
He told the gathered crowd I was a mental patient having a delusion.
He hugged his mistress and announced she was the true Luna, claiming our marriage was a mistake and publicly rejecting our bond.
For five years, I had suppressed my Supreme Alpha aura to let him feel powerful, funding his lifestyle and building his reputation.
In return, he brainwashed my pack, abused my daughter, and tried to cast me out as a beggar in my own queendom.
He thought he had won because he believed his own lies about my weakness.
But when his illegitimate son threw a rock that drew blood from my daughter’s face, my patience snapped.
I stopped suppressing my scent, and my eyes turned molten gold.
"This is not a dispute, Austyn. This is an execution."
7.4
My husband stood by the window of his Manhattan office, his silhouette cutting through the storm like a blade. He didn't even look at me as he tossed the divorce papers onto the desk, his voice a cold baritone. "Sign it," Isaiah commanded, "or your brother’s dialysis treatment ends today."
He believed the lie that I had pushed his pregnant mistress down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage. To save my dying brother, I signed the confession and accepted the role of a murderer, trading my freedom for a life of disgrace.
At the funeral, Isaiah forced me to crawl on my knees through the freezing mud to the grave while a mob of mourners spat on me and cursed my name. When I went to prison, his influence followed me into the showers, where inmates told me the King wanted me to "remember my crime" before they used rusty shears to hack off my finger.
Five years later, I was a ghost living in a damp basement with the son Isaiah never knew I had, hiding my mangled hand under a leather glove. When he eventually tracked us down, he didn't show mercy; he tore my son from my arms, calling me an unfit monster and swearing I would rot in a cage.
I couldn't understand how the man I once loved could look at my broken body and see only a criminal, never realizing that every scar I carried was a gift from his own hatred.
As he walked away with my child, I swallowed a bottle of pills to end the nightmare, leaving Isaiah to rip the glove from my hand and discover the mangled truth just as my eyes finally closed.