My Dominant CEO
Book 1:
When a temporary job opened up, Jenna, still inexperienced in the workforce, didn't hesitate—she went straight for it.
At first, everything looked like a dream come true. Then, out of nowhere, the rules changed. "Tomorrow, you'll wear lilac underwear!"
The instruction was as weird as it sounded, a tiny detail that promised nothing about this stint would be normal.
Micheal turned heads wherever he went, but there was more to this CEO than just good looks. He carried a secret that would turn Jenna's world upside down.
Book 2:
Apollo's life suddenly flipped around after his wife double-crossed him right at his big brother's wedding.
Just like that, he found himself a single dad, raising six-year-old Ares. Now, Apollo knew one thing for sure: his son needed a mother.
Erin Dixon checked every box—except for her ex-husband, who could give "problematic" a run for its money.
Meanwhile, Milo Lancaster—Adonis's close friend—had his own storm brewing. His family kept pushing him to settle down and produce an heir. "Marriage and kids, Milo!"
But he wanted none of it!
An arranged marriage seemed like the easy way out, at least on paper. Except things got complicated the second he actually started caring about Claudine. Who knew a family tradition could turn into something so unpredictable?
Book 3:
Gustav never expected those old feelings to rush back when he saw Madilyn again after so many years. The spark was still there—too bad she shut him down right away. "I'm with someone else."
But had she truly moved on?
Or was there still hope for something to grow between them?
Chapters
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Chapter 1
Vasti felt lightheaded—she really couldn't handle much alcohol. When she finally made her way to the bathroom, someone had already locked themselves inside.
Great, she muttered under her breath, leaning against the wall. After a couple of minutes, she gave up waiting in silence and knocked. "Hello? Are you going to be much longer?"
No one answered, at least not directly. But she could have sworn she heard a muffled moan. Curious—and a little annoyed—she pressed her ear closer to the door. This time, she caught a man's voice coming from inside.
Oh, come on… Seriously? Vasti pleaded, her patience wearing thin. "Guys, some of us are actually desperate here!"
Vasti wasn't naive. It was obvious—some couple had turned the nightclub bathroom into their own private suite. Typical.
What an inconsiderate thing to do! Vasti thought.
The sounds inside shifted: clothes rustling, a zipper being yanked up, and then the door finally swung open. A tall, stunning blonde stepped out, her lipstick smudged and her eyes bold, casually wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Vasti didn't need to ask what had just gone down.
Way to kill the vibe, the woman scoffed, bumping Vasti's shoulder as she breezed past.
Spare me! Vasti thought, making a face.
Oh, please, she muttered aloud, finally stepping toward the bathroom—only to freeze when she found herself staring into a pair of unmistakable green eyes.
She blinked. "You've got to be kidding me!"
The man studied her with that lazy, crooked grin, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes gleaming with something between arrogance and contempt.
You just never quit, do you? the man said, his gaze raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl. The smile stayed cocky, but his eyes were pure disdain.
The shock wore off fast, and Vasti snapped her jaw shut, brow furrowing as she glared at him.
What's that supposed to mean? she shot back, her own look loaded with annoyance.
He scoffed, scanned the hallway like he couldn't believe his luck, then locked eyes with her again.
I can't stand women who act clueless. If you're that desperate, just say so. No need to play games—or stalk me.
For a second, Vasti could only stare at the man, dumbfounded, completely floored by his nerve.
What the hell are you talking about?! she yelled. "Are you out of your mind?" Maybe he was—after all, thanks to him, she'd lost her job. "Because of you, I got fired! And for what? Just for accidentally bumping into you?"
She shook her head in disbelief while he arched a smug eyebrow. Vasti didn't let up.
And now, as if that wasn't enough, you're accusing me of stalking you? She laughed, sharp and mocking, giving him a slow once-over. "Just so you know, I'm here with a friend—someone who actually knows the staff here. This nightclub is our usual spot. I only came tonight because I needed a break after some arrogant, self-absorbed jerk fired me for no reason. So, if anyone's following someone, maybe you should look in the mirror!"
Vasti knew she shouldn't be trash-talking her boss to his face, but right now, she didn't care.
No, no—ex-boss, she reminded herself. Of course, ex. She didn't owe him a single ounce of restraint. The man had been a complete ass, and thanks to his theatrics, Vasti had lost her job. She was sure he'd been behind it all! "As if my family drama wasn't enough, now I'm dealing with this nightmare on legs."
The man drew a sharp breath, then moved in one quick motion—grabbing Vasti's arm and yanking her into the bathroom before she had time to protest. The door slammed shut behind them, and her back hit the wood. She barely got a word out before his mouth crashed down on hers, warm and unyielding.
Oh! Vasti gasped, caught completely off guard. The man pinned her wrists above her head with one powerful hand, leaving her no chance to move, while his other hand held her firmly by the waist.
Her lips parted in shock, and he wasted no time, deepening the kiss until it left her breathless. She couldn't deny it—a day spent cursing his name, and now she was melting against him. His knee slid between Vasti's legs, pushing them apart, letting him get closer still. Vasti wasn't the type to let a stranger kiss her, but right now, logic was nowhere in sight.
Hey! Vasti? A sharp knock at the door surprised Vasti. The man didn't let go immediately. Instead, he slowly released her wrists, letting her hands drift down. Then he guided one of her hands to his chest, his own touch gentler now as he brushed his fingers across her cheek.
I—I'll be right there! Vasti stammered, lips still tingling and breath all over the place. "Just give me a minute! I'm coming out now!"
Okay… Fernanda's heels clicked away down the hall, leaving Vasti alone with him. Vasti glanced up. His hair looked annoyingly perfect, his face hovered close, and his lips curled into a self-satisfied smile.
You should probably get going before you're late tomorrow, he murmured, his voice low and rough.
Late? Vasti echoed, her brain still struggling to keep up.
He grinned wider. "Of course. You're my temp secretary, remember?" He brushed a quick kiss against her neck, making her shiver. "And I don't tolerate tardiness."
It hit her all at once—she was talking to the boss himself. Vasti shoved him away, fury flashing in her eyes.
What the hell are you talking about? she demanded. "I got fired! Because of you!"
He took a step back, still holding her by the waist, then gently moved her aside to open the door.
Well, you're hired again. Just don't be late, the striking man said with a wink, then strolled out, leaving Vasti stunned and speechless.
Her legs felt unsteady, but somehow she managed to make her way back to the table where Fernanda and Will sat waiting.
Whoa! What happened to you? Fernanda asked, then took a closer look at her friend. Even with the dim lights, it was obvious—Vasti's lips were swollen and bare, her hair a mess, and her clothes rumpled.
Will spotted it too, barely hiding his amusement.
You little troublemaker! Fernanda teased, giving Vasti a playful smack on the arm. But Vasti didn't react—she looked completely rattled. Fernanda's smile faded fast. "Wait… Did somebody force you to do something?"
Fernanda shot up from her seat, instincts kicking in as she scanned the room for any hint of danger, ready to protect at all costs.
Oh, no. I… I have to go, Vasti stammered.
What? Why? Fernanda pressed, unsettled by Vasti's weird behavior. "Come on, just tell me—did somebody bother you? Did anyone get handsy?"
Fernanda, the Latina with long dark hair flowing over her shoulders, watched Vasti with genuine concern.
I just… I can't be late tomorrow, Vasti said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Fernanda exchanged a confused glance with Will.
What are you even talking about?
Vasti shrugged. "Looks like I got my job back." That got Fernanda's eyebrows shooting up.
Um… well, that's good news. I think? Fernanda said, still eyeing her warily as Vasti pulled a bill from her purse, left it on the table, and leaned in for a quick kiss on Fernanda's cheek. She gave Will a quick wave before making a beeline for the door.
Fernanda's boyfriend couldn't hold back a laugh. "Your friend's kind of nuts."
Fernanda rolled her eyes. "I'm getting to the bottom of this tomorrow. But for now, you and I are going to have some fun."
Out on the street, Vasti suddenly realized she never even managed to use the restroom.
Perfect! I hope the taxi shows up soon… she muttered.
A low, unfamiliar voice broke through the night. "A woman like you, out here alone at this hour… That's not exactly safe, is it?" The words caught her off guard, but she turned slowly to face him, ready for anything.
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9.1
Kaitlyn thought she was living a happy life with her husband Martin, until that night when she overheard his conversation with his mistress on the phone. Her world changed in an instant, especially when she learned that the woman was carrying Martin's child, while she had struggled to have a child in the four years she spent with him.
Then she discovered she was pregnant too, but a cruel plot was set against her. Kaitlyn was thrown in prison, and her husband sent her divorce papers without giving her a single chance. She lost one of her twins during childbirth, suffered, and lost everything.
Until that moment when Douglas, her husband's former rival, offered her a marriage contract. A way to take revenge and reclaim what was stolen from her by those who put her in prison, destroyed her life, and killed one of her twin children.
What will Kaitlyn do when the truth comes out? When she learns that Martin Thompson's mistress is none other than her closest friend Ashley? When she uncovers the full conspiracy against her and realizes that the death she witnessed was faked, the very reason she ended up in prison?
7.5
I run my family's political dynasty with an iron fist. From my father’s Senate votes to my own calculated engagement, every move is mine to control.
Then, in a single evening, my ambitious stepmother made her play. She used our housekeeper as a spy and orchestrated a scandal involving my fiancé and stepsister, designed to shatter my reputation and power.
They thought they could break me. Within twelve hours, the spy was dead on the marble floor of my foyer. My fiancé’s family was blackmailed into silence. My stepsister was exiled to a Swiss boarding school, and I stripped my own father of his authority for his weakness.
As for my stepmother, Bronte, I had her declared mentally unstable and forcibly taken to a remote facility in Montana, completely cut off from the world.
Everyone saw a cold-hearted coup, but they didn't know the secret I held. I had proof that Bronte had systematically orchestrated my brother’s death years ago, all to position her own son to inherit everything. This wasn't about power; it was vengeance.
But winning the war at home has put me on a much deadlier board. Now, I'm preparing for a dinner with Eldridge Marsh—the most dangerous man in Washington—who wants to decide if I'm a player he can use, or a threat he needs to destroy.
7.1
My husband, tech billionaire Amir Carter, was a god in Chicago. For five years, he was the perfect husband, and I, a pediatric doctor, believed I had finally tamed the infamous playboy.
But when my brother Keon needed an urgent heart transplant, everything fell apart. The donor Amir found was a young singer-exactly his type.
On the day of the surgery, as my brother was dying, I found my husband comforting her.
"Don't pressure her, Blake," he said. "She's delicate."
Then the call came. My brother was dead. Amir didn't even notice, annoyed that I was stressing out his new project.
He pushed me down a flight of stairs, crashed his car into my taxi to protect her, and gave her the last gift my brother ever made for me.
He saw me bleeding on the floor and walked right past, his only concern for the woman who let my brother die. My fairy tale was a lie. I was just another one of his seasonal projects, now completed and discarded.
He took everything from me. So I signed the divorce papers, refused his millions, and vanished. Now, he's left alone with the truth: he killed my brother, and he didn't even know it.
9.5
Rebirth. Revenge. Romance.
In her past life, Delia was blind to love. Betrayed by her cousin and ex, she discarded her "crippled" husband Curtis-only to die disfigured and alone.
Now she's back.
This time, she tears up the divorce papers and clings to Curtis's side-only to discover he's not weak at all. In fact, when he rises from his wheelchair, the world bows.
"You're mine-body and soul," he growls, his voice like velvet and steel.
She's the one seducing him now-until he's addicted, crazed, and can't live without her.
She'll crush her enemies, reclaim everything they stole, and love the man who once gave her the world.
This time, she'll give him back everything-and more.
8.7
My stepmother sold me like a piece of inventory to a man known for breaking people just to plug the financial crater my father left behind. I was delivered to the Morton estate in the middle of a freezing storm, stripped of my phone, and told that if I didn't make myself useful, my senile grandfather would be evicted from his care facility by noon.
The master of the house, Adonis Morton IV, was a monster living in a silent mausoleum, driven to the brink of madness by a sensory condition that turned every sound into a physical assault. When I was forced into his suite to serve him, he didn't see a human being; he saw a source of agony. In a fit of animalistic rage, he pinned me to the wall and nearly strangled me to death just for the sound of a shattering teacup.
I only survived by using my grandfather’s secret herbal blends and pressure-point therapy to force his overactive nervous system into a drugged sleep. But saving him was my greatest mistake. Instead of letting me go, Adonis moved me into a guest suite connected to his own bedroom by a hidden door. He didn't just want me as a servant; he needed me as a human white-noise machine to drown out the demons in his head.
The nightmare deepened when he took the promissory note that defined my freedom and tore it into confetti. By destroying the debt, he destroyed my exit strategy. He replaced my maid’s uniform with a silver silk dress that clung to my skin but did nothing to hide the dark, ugly bruises his fingers had left on my neck. He branded me as his "primary care associate," a title that was nothing more than a gilded cage.
I felt a sickening sense of injustice as he forced me to sign a contract that banned me from contacting other men and required me to sleep wherever he slept. He looked at me with a possessive heat, calling me his "medication" rather than a woman. My family had sold my body, but Adonis Morton was intent on owning my very presence, using my grandfather’s medical bills as a leash to keep me within twenty feet of him at all times.
Standing in a neglected greenhouse with mud staining my expensive silk, I realized I was no longer a victim waiting for rescue. If I was going to be his medication, I would learn how to be his cure—or his undoing. I began clearing the weeds with a cold, calculated frenzy, determined to turn this prison into my laboratory. He thinks he has trapped a helpless girl, but I am going to pry open the cracks in his stone walls until his entire world comes crashing down.
8.1
My fiancé, Connor, and I had a one-year pact. I'd work undercover as a junior developer in the company we co-founded, while he, the CEO, built our empire.
The pact ended the day he ordered me to apologize to the woman who was systematically destroying my life.
It happened during his most important investor pitch. He was on video call when he demanded I publicly humiliate myself for his "special guest," Jaden. This was after she'd already scalded my hand with hot coffee and faced zero consequences.
He chose her. In front of everyone, he chose a manipulative bully over our company's integrity, our employees' dignity, and me, his fiancée.
His eyes on the screen demanded my submission.
"Apologize to Jaden. Now."
I took a step forward, held up my burned hand for the camera, and made a call of my own.
"Dad," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "It's time to dissolve the partnership."