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 6
Elena didn't sleep. How could she? A wedding date. He had said it like it was a board decision. Like it was ink on paper. Not her life. Not her heart. By morning, she was still standing in the penthouse living room, staring at the city below. The skyline of New York stretched endlessly, cold and glittering - powerful, ruthless. Very Dominic.
"Still overthinking?" His voice came from behind her. Low. Controlled. Annoyingly steady. She didn't turn around. "Still making decisions for me?" He walked closer, the sound of his shoes against marble deliberate. Measured. Dominant.
"You're in my house," he said calmly. "Under my protection. Wearing my ring." She glanced down at the diamond that had appeared on her finger last night without discussion.
"You didn't even ask."
"I informed you."
She turned then.
"That's not how engagements work."
His lips tilted slightly. Not a smile. A warning.
"This isn't a romance novel, Elena. It's a strategy."
"You don't get to dictate my life because you're powerful."
"I don't dictate," he said, stepping closer. "I control."
Her breath caught. The air shifted when he was this close. Not warm. Intense.
"You think you're untouchable," she said.
"I am."
Arrogant. Certain. Unapologetic.
She folded her arms. "You're not God, Dominic."
"No," he replied smoothly. "But in this city, I'm close."
The confidence wasn't loud. It was quiet. And that made it more dangerous. Her phone buzzed again on the table. He picked it up before she could.
"You don't get to check my phone."
"I get to monitor anything that can be used against you," he said, scanning the screen.
Her eyes flashed. "You're impossible."
"And you're still here."
That shut her up. Because he was right. She hadn't left. Not when she could've walked out of the garage last night. Not when she could've refused the ring. Not when she could've told him to go to hell. "You said six months," she reminded him. "Six." "I revised the terms." "You can't just revise a contract without agreement."
He stepped even closer now. Close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze.
"I can," he said softly, "if I'm the one who holds all the leverage."
Her heart thudded against her ribs.
"And what leverage is that?"
His voice lowered.
"The board believes you were paid to leave me five years ago."
"I wasn't."
"I know."
"Then why act like you still suspect me?"
He studied her. Cold. Assessing.
"Because trust is earned," he said. "And you disappeared without fighting."
Her jaw tightened.
"You think I wanted to leave?"
"You didn't stay."
The accusation hung between them.
"You don't know what your father-"
"My father is dead," he cut in sharply. "Don't use him as an excuse."
Her silence was loud.
Dominic's expression darkened.
"That's what I thought."
He stepped back finally, adjusting his cufflinks.
"Get dressed. We have a press conference in two hours."
Her head snapped up.
"A what?"
"You heard me."
"You can't be serious."
"I'm always serious."
She stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
"You just announced an engagement and now you want to parade me in front of reporters?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because they expect us to hide."
His eyes sharpened.
"And I don't hide."
His dominance wasn't about shouting.
It was about certainty.
About making the room bend.
"And what exactly are you going to tell them?" she demanded.
"The truth."
She almost laughed.
"Which version?"
"That we're stronger than ever."
"And if they ask about the bank transfer?"
His gaze hardened.
"I'll handle it."
"You can't control every narrative."
"I don't need to control all of it," he said calmly. "Just enough."
She watched him walk toward his office area.
Every movement precise. He paused at the doorway.
"And Elena?"
She didn't answer.
He looked over his shoulder.
"You will stand next to me. You will smile. And you will not contradict me."
Her temper flared.
"I am not your employee."
"No," he agreed smoothly.
"You're my fiancée."
The word landed heavier this time.
Ownership threaded through it.
"Temporary," she reminded him.
His eyes dragged over her slowly.
"Nothing about you has ever been temporary."
The tension snapped like a wire. Before she could respond, his assistant's voice came through the intercom.
"Mr. Russo, the board is here."
Dominic didn't react.
Of course they were.
He turned back to Elena.
"This is where you decide," he said quietly.
"Decide what?"
"Whether you're my partner in this war."
Her pulse quickened.
"And if I'm not?"
His gaze cooled instantly.
"Then you become collateral."
The threat wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Her stomach tightened.
"You'd really sacrifice me?"
He stepped closer one last time.
Close enough that his shadow covered her again.
"I sacrifice nothing," he said evenly.
"I conquer."
The doors to the penthouse opened behind him.
Board members entered. Eyes sharp. Judging.
Waiting. Dominic's expression shifted into something lethal. Controlled. Commanding. He extended his hand toward Elena without looking at her. "Come here." It wasn't a request. Every instinct in her screamed to refuse. To challenge him. To fight. But if she did...she would stand alone. And Dominic Russo never stood alone.
Slowly, she placed her hand in his. His grip tightened.
Possessive. Victorious. And as the board members watched, Dominic pulled her to his side and said calmly- "let's begin." Elena had no idea what he was about to say. But judging by the way the room went silent-he was about to burn everything down.
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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.