SUBMISSIVE TO MY BROTHER'S BESTFRIEND
I'm Karima Heart, and I basically live a double life. In school, I'm the quiet, nerdy bookworm. At night, I'm the seductive, high-demand stripper every one screams for.
But everything's about to change. My perfect secret is on the verge of exposure because my brother's best friend just caught me. Now, to keep him quiet, I have to play his little obedient girl... and with him living under our roof, it's getting harder to resist the pull between us...
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Chapter 3
KARIMA HEART
TWO DAYS AGO
"Karry, Karry, Karry!"
The club thundered with my name as I stepped onto the stage, my heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. The lights dimmed, and a seductive rhythm pulsed through the speakers. I wore nothing but a strapless black bra and a matching thong that clung to my skin like a second layer, and a glittering mask that hid half my face, but not my intentions.
I love hearing them shout my name like a sweet song...
As I walked to the main platform, every step was deliberate, every sway of my hips a silent invitation and subtle temptation. The crowd roared louder, a sea of voices all demanding the same thing... Of course Marry.
Here, in this room soaked with lust and rhythm, I wasn't the nerdy quiet student at college, who aced her tests and smiled politely at church. I wasn't the quiet or shy girl who avoided eye contact with bullies back at college or always said thank you even when I shouldn't.
Here, I was Karry. A wild, unapologetic, free girl. Nobody knows my real identity or judges me. I was just Karry.
I curled myself around the pole like I belonged to it. The moment my fingers gripped the cold metal, I let the music take over me. I moved with it, twisting, sliding, and arching my back as I rolled my hips slowly and seductively. I dragged my fingers over my skin, letting the crowd see just how much I loved my own body. The more they screamed, the more alive I felt.
Money rained down on me, crumpled bills of lust, greed, and admiration. I danced in it, for it, letting the praise and raw hunger in the room soak into my pores.
Yeah, that was what I wanted. The d*mn money... The only reason why I found myself here.
Then... I spotted a dude. He was new, I didn't see him before... Well, I wasn't a sl*t but... Getting a target, making him hot and getting him to spend, was my speciality.
He was seated at the far end of the club, in a shadowed booth where the light barely reached, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, dark tie, wristwatch that probably cost more than my tuition fee. But it wasn't his outfit that caught my attention.
It was his stillness.
He didn't cheer. He didn't even lean forward like the others, or grinning and drooling. He wasn't even pretending to enjoy the show.
He was just watching.
No, not even that. He was present, but not engaged. His eyes flicked across the room like he was bored, and when they did land on me, just briefly, they moved away just as quickly.
And that made my skin burn. I didn't have an habit of walking up to a man but I did this time.
Because, I was curious. Truth be told, I hated it too.
How dare he come here and not look at me like I was worth undressing him for? How dare he act as if I were invisible, a passing breeze in a room full of hurricanes?
So I did what I knew best.
I slid down from the platform, letting another dancer take my place, and made my way through the crowd with the slow, sultry steps of a woman who owned every gaze in the room. The money clung to my skin, but I didn't stop to peel it off. I had something else in mind.
I reached his table, and for the first time, he looked directly at me. His gaze was calm, assessing me, but I didn't let it shake me. I leaned forward slightly, close enough for him to smell the vanilla and smoke on my skin, my hand reaching for his tie as I coiled my fingers around the silk.
"Why come to the club if you're not going to enjoy yourself?" I asked, my voice a low purr as I teased the knot of his tie between my fingers.
A small, cold smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He took my hand gently but a little bit firm, and let it go like it meant nothing.
"Sorry," he said smoothly. "I don't do strippers."
That hit harder than a slap. My skin burned in anger.
What the hell? Me?
My smile faltered, but I tried to contain myself. The heat that rose in my chest wasn't shame, it was pure fury, laced with intrigue too. I leaned in closer, letting my bre*st brush his chest, my lips just inches from his ear.
"Then what do you do?" I whispered, my voice honey-sweet. I was beginning to get more interested in him. "Students? Little girls? Because I can be that for you too... if you want."
His eyes darkened, not with lust, but something deeper, something dangerous. His gaze locked on mine then, finally seeing me, not the stripper, not the masked girl, but something else.
"I don't do those either," he said, his voice low, almost amused. "But you... you're a daring woman, I'll give you that."
He didn't speak more than a few phrases but something flickered between us. Not desire, at least not in the way I was used to, but recognition. He didn't want me for the reasons everyone else did. And somehow, that made me want him even more.
I stood up straight, slowly, my eyes never leaving his. My fingers slid from his tie down to his chest, pausing there for a heartbeat before I stepped back.
"You'll remember me," I said quietly, turning away with a sway of my hips that could bring men to their knees.
"How about you try,"His words hung in the air.
I turned slowly to him, confused, but a cocky smirk played on his lips."Try?" I echoed.
"Try to get me to remember you." He said,
My head tilted back, a short laugh escaping my lips. I turned to the side, trying to grasp the weight of what he'd just said-
Then that was when my eyes caught HIM.
F*cking hell!
What the actual f*ck was he doing here?
My heart skipped. Then it pounded hard.
Malcom?
He was pushing through the crowd, his eyes on his phone, like he was trying to reach someone. He hadn't seen me yet, but he was getting closer.
Was he searching for me... He couldn't right?
Panic shot through me as I turned to the guy still standing beside me. I grabbed his hand, clutching it tight, my eyes pleading."Please, save me. Get me out of here, hun?" I whispered urgently.
My eyes darted around the room again, Malcom was already halfway in now, scanning the space like a d*mn predator.The new dude, stood up slowly, almost amused.
"Running from someone?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, curious now. The confident girl from seconds ago? She was gone. What stood in front of him now was someone shaken and scared.
"That's Malcom, my brother. He can't see me here. Please..." I begged.
Because if Malcom saw me?He wouldn't just drag me out, he'd burn the whole place down.I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk him.
Before I could say more, the guy pulled me behind the crowd with him, fast but smooth. My eyes stayed locked on Malcom. He had his phone pressed to his ear now, pacing. Still searching while he stood still now.
We reached the back door. I didn't even know the building had a back exit, and I'd been working at DAWN for three months.
Then, the guy raised his phone."Hello? Yeah, let's meet up tomorrow. Something came up."
His voice calm, but his eyes? Locked on me.
He ended the call, then gave me one long look, from my head to my shoes."It's been a long while, Karima Heart."
My blood ran cold.
How did he know my full name?I didn't know him. At least... I didn't think I did.
But in that moment, I just knew my world was about to flip...
And... That was when it started. My misery. He was my misery.
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8.2
I was trapped in a velvet booth at Le Bernardin, Arthur Sterling’s hand crawling up my knee as he whispered that my father would be in handcuffs by morning if I didn't spend the night with him.
Desperate to escape, I lunged at the only man more dangerous than Arthur—Gunnar Kirk, the "Butcher of Wall Street"—and kissed him in front of every camera in the room, thinking I was choosing the lesser of two evils.
I was wrong; Gunnar didn't just play along, he took possession, forcing me into a cold-blooded contract to be his fake fiancée to save his corporate image from an SEC investigation. While my greedy stepmother and sister were busy fighting over the diamonds he sent, I was living in terror, trying to hide the one thing that truly mattered: my infant son, hidden away with a nanny in a cramped Queens apartment. When my baby suffered a febrile seizure and I rushed to the ER, I looked up to see Gunnar standing in the doorway, his glacial eyes boring into me as he realized the "ruined" socialite was hiding a child from her past.
I tried to sabotage the wedding, setting up my fame-hungry stepsister as a decoy bride so I could flee to Switzerland with my son, but Gunnar caught me on the fire escape before I could take a single step toward freedom. He threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour and told me that if I didn't walk down that aisle, he would personally ensure my father rotted in prison.
We stood at the altar and exchanged vows in a ceremony built on blackmail and lies, but as we walked out as husband and wife, Gunnar didn't look at me with affection; he turned to his assistant and ordered a total deep dive into the medical records I had spent a year trying to erase.
"Find out exactly what happened during those nine months in Switzerland, and tell me who that baby really belongs to."
8.7
My fiancé plunged our SUV into an icy river during a blizzard. He had a choice: save me, or save his childhood sweetheart, Kianna.
He didn't hesitate. He left me to drown.
This wasn't the first time. In my last life, he' d "saved" me after Kianna drowned, only to trap me in a loveless marriage. He blamed me for her death, his silent accusations a constant torment. My own parents didn't care, forcing the wedding to secure a corporate merger. I was nothing more than a pawn.
He married me not for love, but as penance, making me his living scapegoat for the woman he truly lost.
But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the sinking car, the icy water rising around me.
This time, I smiled and pushed him toward her.
"Save Kianna," I commanded. "She needs you more."
8.7
For years, I was Faron Blackwell' s "whipping post." A cruel pact with his mother forced me to endure one hundred public humiliations for his affairs, a living tally of his conquests. I was a joke to high society, the wife who couldn't keep her husband.
After the final scandal, I discovered I was pregnant. But Faron, repulsed by the scars his family' s punishments left on my body, hadn't touched me in months. He was convinced the child wasn't his.
He ordered his mistress, a doctor, to terminate the pregnancy.
"Make sure she feels every bit of it," he said. "No anesthesia."
To force a confession about a lover who never existed, he trapped me and the children from my non-profit in a building and set off a bomb. As the inferno raged, I heard him screaming my name.
I ran straight into the flames, ready to end the nightmare.
But Faron didn't know his own mother had a different escape plan for me all along.
8.0
After divorcing my cheating husband, I thought I had found my savior in his powerful business partner, Cole.
For three years, he pampered me like a queen, building a perfect, golden cage of devotion.
But on the day I happily discovered I was pregnant, I overheard him talking to my ex-husband's mistress.
"Elinor is just a convenient tool. If she gets pregnant, I'll fake a paternity test and annul the marriage so she leaves with nothing."
My entire marriage was a meticulously crafted lie to secure his position and protect the woman he truly cared about.
Before I could quietly escape, Cole orchestrated a brutal attack.
I was dragged into a dark alley, beaten until my ribs fractured, and my unborn child was violently ripped away from me.
As I lay bleeding out in the freezing rain, my heart shattered into dust.
I didn't understand how the man who kissed me every morning could coldly order his thugs to beat me to death just to appease his real lover.
They left me there to rot, thinking they had finally erased the naive fool who got in their way.
Three years later, the world still believes Elinor Marsh died in a tragic car accident.
But when Cole and his elite circle attend a high-profile Interpol reception, they don't expect the new Chief Liaison Officer to step onto the stage.
I am Helena Fu now, and I have returned to burn their empire to the ground.
7.5
Natalie Brooks, the young lady of the Brooks family, hid her identity to marry Samuel Morgan for love. The three-year cold marriage ended with a divorce when his first love, Lily, returned. Natalie left proudly, returning to her home, the most powerful Brooks family in New York, with her four talented brothers.
Natalie gradually transformed into a strong businesswoman. Samuel was surprised because Natalie was completely different from the image of the weak wife she had been before. He began to waver, remembering the years of living together, but was still surrounded by Lily's weak pretense.
Although Natalie was divorced, she still had lingering feelings, but she chose to strongly confront him, determined to prove her worth. From here, she continuously confronted Samuel and Lily, both to regain what she had lost and to force them to regret ever looking down on her. Meanwhile, Lily always played the role of the "weak girl", taking advantage of Samuel's pity, but she increasingly revealed her jealousy and hypocrisy. Natalie's brothers – especially Nathaniel Brooks and Henry Brooks – were fiercely protective of their sister and wanted Samuel to repent for what he had done to Natalie.
7.1
To survive a forced one-year marriage contract with the ultra-wealthy Chavez family, Averi Marsh disguised herself as a pathetic, ugly duckling.
She caked her flawless skin in muddy yellow foundation, wore thick glasses, and played the part of a trembling, uneducated orphan.
The entire family treated her like literal garbage.
The youngest brother publicly swore he would rather cut off his own hand than marry a piece of trailer park trash.
Her nominal fiancé, Clarke, looked at her with cold disdain, allowing his glamorous companion to humiliate Averi by forcing her into a neon pink clown dress.
At a high-society party, a socialite shoved her into an infinity pool, laughing as the heavy fabric dragged her to the bottom.
They all wanted to see the poor girl broken, humiliated, and driven out of their pristine world.
What they didn't know was that beneath the hideous sweaters was a breathtaking, lethal predator.
They had no idea she was 'Spectre', the undefeated underground racing god who had just humiliated the arrogant Clarke on the track.
They didn't know she could shatter a bully's wrist in seconds or bankrupt their wealthy friends with a single text message.
But when the chlorinated pool water washed away her ugly makeup, the family's ambitious second son caught a glimpse of her true, flawless face.
The game of hide-and-seek was officially over.
The Chavez family thought they were torturing a helpless sheep, but they were about to realize they had locked themselves in a cage with a wolf.