The Billionaire's Reluctant Partner.
Naomi Lancaster never planned to see Killian Royce again.
She had escaped his world once-walked away from the man who built his empire on power, control, and carefully concealed lies. But when fate drags her back into his orbit, one thing becomes clear: Killian isn't done with her.
He wants something.
And he always gets what he wants.
Trapped in a dangerous game of wealth and deception, Naomi is forced to question everything she thought she knew-about Killian, about their past, and about the whispers of betrayal closing in around her.
Because in Killian's world, love was never the endgame.
Revenge was.
And this time, she's not sure who will survive it.
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Chapter 2
Killian's POV The moment I saw the New York Chronicle headline, I knew Naomi was screwed. "The Kensington Wedding Disaster: A Night of Fire, Fights, and Failure!" It was plastered across the front page in bold, damning letters. Below it, an unflattering photograph of Naomi standing in the middle of the ruined ballroom, her face pale, her eyes wide with horror. I clicked on the article and skimmed through it, already knowing what I'd find. "Naomi Lancaster, owner of Lancaster Luxe Events, was responsible for what was supposed to be the wedding of the decade. Instead, it became one of the most humiliating disasters in high society history." "Guests were met with chaos-champagne shortages, misplaced seating arrangements, and an undercooked main course that had several attendees complaining of food poisoning by midnight. But the crowning moment of catastrophe? A fire breaks out near the floral arrangement, forcing the bride and groom to evacuate before even cutting their cake." The comments were even worse. "She should be blacklisted from the industry." "Who the hell let her plan a wedding at this level?" "Kensington money wasted. Naomi Lancaster should never work in this city again." I sat back, exhaling as I scrolled through the relentless criticism. I knew Naomi had built Lancaster Luxe Events from the ground up. She'd clawed her way to the top of New York's event-planning industry, earning herself a reputation as one of the most sought-after names in high-society weddings. And now, it was all unraveling. I should've felt indifferent. This was none of my concern. We hadn't spoken in five years-five years since our divorce, three years since she walked away and never looked back. If she was failing, it was her own damn problem. So why the hell was I still reading? Why had I already placed a call to my lawyers, just to confirm whether or not the lawsuits were real? I closed the article and leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers under my chin while gazing out the window. The city lay before me, lit by the golden light of the setting sun. My penthouse office was on the top floor of the Blackwood Tower, a reminder of all I had created, all I managed. And yet, control was exactly what I was losing. My own problems were stacking up like a house of cards, and if I didn't act soon, the entire empire I had spent years building would crumble beneath me. The irony wasn't lost on me. Naomi's business was failing. Mine was under siege. And the one solution I had-one that could solve both our problems-depended entirely on whether or not she was desperate enough to take my offer. I tapped a finger against my jaw, considering my options. Naomi was proud. Too proud. She wouldn't come to me willingly. If I showed up now, she'd slam the door in my face. But give her a little time-let the lawsuits pile up, let the Kensingtons drag her name through the mud-then she'd have no choice but to listen. I wasn't a man who left things to chance. I played to win. And this time? I wasn't just playing for myself. I was playing for her, too. Even if she didn't know it yet. **** (Later That Night) "Hey, bro, tell me you've seen the papers today..." Julian's voice came through from the other end of my phone. I sighed, leaning back in my car seat. "I have," I answered, my tone curt as I pressed a finger to the bridge of my nose. "And you have seen it." It wasn't a question but I knew what he was subtly asking me. I exhaled sharply. "Yes, I have seen the Lancaster scandal and no, I am not interested." Julian scoffed. "You've always been such a shitty liar, you know." "Fuck off," I muttered to which he laughed. "You should go visit her, see how she's doing," he added. This time I was the one who laughed out loud. "You did not just tell me to visit my ex-wife like we have been on speaking terms since our divorce?" "Well..." Julian drawled and I could imagine him shrugging. "You can never be sure until you see her." I contemplated his words long after our call ended, if what Julian said was the truth... I shook my head, trying to get rid of all the nonsense thoughts in them. I didn't plan to see her. Not yet. But when my driver arrived at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and I spotted her-sitting alone at an outdoor café, her phone in hand, her gaze far away-I told him to stop. The city was buzzing around her. Taxis honked. Pedestrians hurried by, absorbed in their own lives. But Naomi sat still, hardly touching the untouched coffee before her. She looked different. Not in the obvious ways-she was still stunning, still carried herself with the same effortless grace that used to drive me insane. But there was something else. Something in her posture. Something in how she stared blankly at her phone, as if preparing for the next disaster. I knew that look. It was the look of someone barely keeping their head above water. I could've walked away. Could've ignored the way my chest tightened at the sight of her. But I didn't. Instead, I got out of the car, adjusted my jacket, and crossed the street. Her fingers clutched her phone so tightly that I wondered if she even noticed. I stopped beside her table but she didn't look up as she was self-absorbed into staring at her phone "Still prefer your coffee black, or have your tastes changed?" I called out, my time light and vague. Her head jerked up so fast I almost smirked. Almost. Her gaze met mine, and for a moment, I saw it-the flicker of recognition, the memories of what we had been and what we weren't anymore. Then, just as quickly, her face turned cold. "What the hell are you doing here?" she muttered. "Resorting to stalking now?" I raised an eyebrow and put my hands in my pockets. "I was in the neighborhood." "Bullshit." I let out a quiet laugh. Some things never changed. Naomi has never believed in coincidences. She leaned back in her chair, sitting rigidly. Her defenses were up, the same ones I had tried-and failed-to break through for years. "I honestly don't have time for whatever shit you're trying to pull right now, Killian." She waved vaguely at the space between us, as if the invisible connection between us was more than just a hassle. I ignored her dismissal and took the chair across from her. She exhaled sharply. "Seriously?" I shrugged. "I thought you might like some company." Her jaw tightened, but she didn't ask me to go. That was progress. I leaned back, studying her as my gut clenched. Fuck, she still looked so beautiful. "You look like hell," I said, clearing my throat. "Wow," she muttered, rolling her eyes dramatically. "What a compliment." "You're welcome." I nodded. Her lips twitched, but she quickly masked it with a scowl, shaking her head slightly. For a moment, we both stayed silent. The city continued around us, cars and voices merging into a distant noise. Finally, she sighed. "You read the article." It wasn't a question. I nodded. "It's brutal." She scoffed. "That's one way to say it." The bitterness in her voice made something in my chest tighten. I hated that she was going through this. Hated that I didn't hate it enough to walk away. I could've told her the truth right then. That I had an offer-one that could solve everything, keep her business running, and shield her from the fallout. But I didn't think Naomi was ready to hear it. Not yet. So instead, I just said, "It'll pass." She let out a humorless laugh. "No, Killian. It won't. My company is done. The lawsuits, the bad press-there's no recovering from this." I tilted my head to the side. "Since when do you give up so fast?" A flicker crossed her eyes-anger, perhaps. Or something deeper. Something raw. "I don't," she said quietly. I held her gaze. "Then prove it." She looked at me for a while, as if trying to understand what I wasn't saying. Then, she exhaled and shook her head. "What are you doing here, Killian?" I should've told her. Should've laid out my plan, explained exactly why I needed her, why she needed me. Instead, I just said, "I'll see you soon, Naomi." And before she could argue, before she could put up another wall, I stood and walked away. Because this wasn't the time. But soon? Soon, she'd have no choice but to listen.
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9.1
Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke.
Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture.
A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life.
On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub.
For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot.
But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry.
This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again.
Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely.
However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out.
At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on.
They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased.
Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it.
Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!"
It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie.
This time, she walked away and never looked back.
And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.
9.6
He rejected her under the moonlight. Now fate has thrown them into the same war...
Aria Ashborne was supposed to be forgotten the castaway of a fallen pack, the daughter of a disgraced Alpha. But fate has a cruel sense of humor. When Alpha Kaiden Blackthorn the brutal enforcer of the Northern Territories discovers she is his fated mate, he rejects her in front of the entire council, branding her unworthy.
But Aria doesn't beg. She doesn't break. She builds. She builds in silence.
Now a fierce warrior leading her own rebel wolves, she's forced into an uneasy alliance with Kaiden when a deadly new force begins tearing through the werewolf ranks. Old enemies. New secrets. And a bond neither of them can truly sever.
What happens when hate burns hotter than desire? And when the one person you swore to destroy... might be the only one who can save you?
8.9
Seventeen-year-old Nina Storm has spent her life running from her tragic past, her dormant wolf, and the dreams of a mysterious man she can't escape.
Raised by her protective father after her mother's death, she has never stayed in one place long enough to call it home. But everything changed when they return to their home, the Moonlight Pack.
Nina discovers that her mate is Zane, the pack's Alpha... a bond that defies werewolf laws and the pack's expectations. Their undeniable attraction is dangerous, and their bond threatens to disrupt the fragile balance of power within the pack.
When an attack on the pack shatters her world, Nina loses everything, including her life. But death isn't the end.
Reborn, her dormant wolf awakens giving her a newfound strength and powers, Nina must navigate a world of betrayal, love, and vengeance as she unravels the truth about her family, her mate bond, and the danger threatening to destroy everything she holds dear.
8.3
I was the "crazy girl" my family sent to a survivalist commune in Utah to rot. Four years later, I returned to Manhattan with a titanium USB drive and a heart full of ice, ready to blackmail the one man who could burn my family to the ground.
But I underestimated how much they hated me. My fiancé, Preston, was already laundering money through my inheritance and sleeping with my replacement. He didn't even flinch when I showed him the evidence of his crimes.
Instead, he grabbed me by the shoulders, smashed my phone, and shoved me out of his moving Lincoln into a midnight storm. I hit the wet pavement hard, my knees scraping against the asphalt as I watched him drive away, laughing about how I was a "dirt-poor exile" that nobody wanted.
Within minutes, my credit cards were flagged as stolen and my father’s lawyers were drafting a statement calling me mentally unstable. I was left shivering in a puddle of oily sludge, wearing a ruined Chanel suit, with no money, no home, and no one to hear me scream.
I couldn't understand how they could be so cruel. I was their flesh and blood, yet they treated me like a broken toy to be discarded in the trash. I was a "distressed asset" in a city that only valued gold.
That’s when a black armored SUV pulled to the curb. King Wagner—the ruthless shark of Wall Street and Preston’s own uncle—looked at my muddy face with cold, calculating eyes. He didn't offer me pity; he offered me a leash.
"You belong to me now," he whispered, pulling me into the dry warmth of his car. By the next morning, he had announced our engagement to the world, turning me into the very weapon that would slit my family's throat.
9.0
For four years, I traced the bullet scar on Chace’s chest, believing it was proof he would bleed to keep me safe.
On our anniversary, he told me to wear white because "tonight changes everything." I walked into the gala thinking I was getting a ring.
Instead, I stood frozen in the center of the ballroom, drowning in silk, watching him slide his mother's sapphire onto another woman's finger.
Karyn Warren. The daughter of a rival family.
When I begged him with my eyes to claim me, to save me from the public humiliation, he didn't flinch. He just leaned toward his Underboss, his voice amplified by the silence.
"Karyn is for power. Ember is for pleasure. Don't confuse the assets."
My heart didn't just break; it incinerated. He expected me to stay as his mistress, threatening to dig up my dead mother’s grave if I refused to play the obedient pet.
He thought I was trapped. He thought I had nowhere to go because of my father’s massive gambling debts.
He was wrong.
With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and texted the one name I was never supposed to use.
Keith Mosley. The Don. The monster under Chace's bed.
*I am invoking the Blood Oath. My father’s debt. I am ready to pay it.*
His reply came three seconds later, buzzing against my palm like a warning.
*The price is marriage. You belong to me. Yes or No?*
I looked up at Chace, who was laughing with his new fiancée, thinking he owned me.
I looked down and typed three letters.
*Yes.*
7.1
I lay paralyzed on stiff white sheets, a prisoner in my own skin, listening to the rain lash against the window like nails on a coffin. My father, Elmore Franco, didn't even look at my face as he checked his clipboard. He just listened to the steady, monotonous beep of the heart monitor-the only thing proving I was still alive.
Without a hint of remorse, he pulled a pen from his pocket and signed the Do Not Resuscitate order. My stepmother, Ophelia, stepped out from behind him, wearing my favorite pearl necklace and smelling of cloying perfume. She leaned close to my ear to whisper the truth that turned my blood to ice.
"It was the tea, darling. Just like your mother. A slow, tasteless poison."
She chuckled as she revealed that my fiancé, Bryce, had a two-year-old son with my sister, Daniela. My inheritance had been funding their secret life for years, and now that the money was secure, I was an inconvenience they were finally scrubbing away. As my father yanked the power cord from the wall, the beeping died, and the darkness swallowed me whole.
I was being murdered by my own flesh and blood, used as a bank account until I was no longer needed. I died in that sterile room, drowning in the realization that every person I ever loved was a monster who had been waiting for me to take my last breath.
Then, I gasped. I woke up in a luxury hotel suite surrounded by silk sheets, five years in the past-the very morning of my wedding. Next to me lay Basile Delgado, the "Wolf of Wall Street" and my family's most dangerous enemy. In my first life, I ran from this room in a panic and lost everything. This time, I looked at the man who would eventually destroy my father's empire and decided to join him.
"I'm not leaving, Basile. Marry me. Right now. Today."