The Don's Dangerous Addiction
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"Take them off yourself, or I will do it for you."
Ten sessions. Two hundred thousand dollars. Her brother's life for her body.
Dr. Avery St. Clair signed a contract in blood. To save her family, she has to fix the mind of Obsidian City's most feared monster, Dominic Kessler. He's a Mafia Don rotting from the inside out. A bullet gave him C-PTSD and a touch so sensitive he can't stand being touched. Avery is the only antidote who can calm him down. So he locked her in his villa.
But Dominic is playing a game he's already lost.
He doesn't know Avery is the woman from seven years ago. The stranger who saved him on that dark gambling ship and disappeared before sunrise.
He doesn't know the scar on his wrist is burned into her memory.
And most of all, he doesn't know the autistic little girl hiding in her clinic is his own daughter.
While Avery hides the truth behind her professional mask, their little girl feels his every nightmare. Every flashback. Every crack in his monster mask.
When the secrets finally come out, his empire will fall. He'll lose his sight. His throne. The only woman who ever made him feel human.
To win her back, he'll have to destroy the monster he became. And help her burn down the man who murdered her parents.
She won't make it easy.
This is not a love story. It's a monster learning to beg.
Why read this?
Obsessive Mafia Hero
Secret Baby with an Autistic and Gifted Daughter
Identity Reveal
"Touch Her And You Die" Energy
Massive Groveling and Revenge
A Heroine Who Fights Back
No Cheating. Happy Ending Guaranteed.
The Don's Dangerous Addiction Chapter 1
Before her appointment, Avery received an anonymous card.
No signature. Just one line:
"Experiment 047 is waiting for you. Don't disappoint him."
She turned the card over and back again. No clues.
047?A number for what?
She didn't know what it meant, but the feeling of being calculated in advance made her palms sweat.
She tucked the card into her pocket, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door to the estate.
"Take it off yourself, or I'll do it."
Dominic's voice came from the darkness. Low. Rough. The kind that made your blood run cold.
Avery stood still.
In the dark, every breath Dominic took carried an unnatural tremor, like something inside his chest was forcing its way out.
She could see the veins in his neck, pulsing at an irregular rhythm.
She curled her fingers tight. Her nails dug into her palms.
Lightning split the sky. It lit up his face.
Avery froze for a second.
His lips were grayish purple. Not normal poor circulation. This was Cardiopulmonary distress after physical depletion. His eyes were bloodshot. Likely from frequent sleep disorders. But his pupils were so dilated she could barely see his irises. Mania and exhaustion written on the same face, like two opposing forces tearing at one person.
She had seen faces like this in clinical practice. They were always difficult to handle.
She pushed down that second of shock and refocused on his breathing rate.
"Mr. Kessler, this isn't the time to discuss what I'm wearing. Your heart rate is over 180. If this continues, you'll die by your own hand."
"My last doctor. Your mentor."
He lunged forward.
"Right here in this room, he tried to send me to the afterlife with a micro bomb hidden on his body."
"You think I'll let you just... get close to me?"
His eyes traveled over her body. A sharp stare, as if trying to burn through the fabric.
"If you want your payment, prove yourself first." His voice dropped.
One hand hooked into her collar. The other waved a check.
Avery opened her mouth to argue. In an instant, her coat was ripped from her shoulders. Her sweater torn open. Her skirt fell.
When she stood before him in nothing but thin undergarments, exposed, reason quickly took over from humiliation.
Twenty thousand dollars.
The cost of a single session. Also the ticket to one cycle of her brother's specialized medication at the private sanatorium.
Ten sessions. A contract of life and death.
She couldn't leave this house until the final injection was administered. She couldn't refuse any of his orders.
Dominic's condition had become deeply strange. He was gasping for air, his head hanging low, almost resting on Avery's shoulder.
"Enough."
Avery stepped forward. Her cool palm pressed against his jaw and lifted his face.
"You're dying, Mr. Kessler. Step back. Sit down."
She didn't give him a chance to argue. She pushed him back into the sofa. Then she quickly pulled a syringe from her medical kit, found the right spot, and pushed the sedative in.
The scent of peaches seeped from her neck. His hand slid off the armrest. His fingertips brushed her throat by accident.
He didn't open his eyes. A distorted murmur escaped his throat.
"Is it... you?"
Before Avery could react, he lunged. His hand locked around her wrist like an iron cuff, yanking her hard against his chest.
"I killed so many people looking for you..." His voice broke against her ear, barely a whisper, but carrying a terrifying obsession.
Looking for who? Me?
Avery stood frozen. Her professional instincts fired off a few diagnostic terms in her head.
Hallucination? Or cognitive confusion from a new drug kicking in too fast?
But the sheer weight of that obsession chilled her spine. That level of subconscious projection usually meant he was identifying someone he had carved into his bones. Hate. Or craving.
The drug spread fast.
Ten seconds later, his full weight collapsed onto her. Dominic fell into a deathlike sleep.
Avery was trapped in his arms, unable to move. Just as she tried to push his heavy body off, her eyes landed on the inside of Dominic's wrist.
In the dim lamplight, an old, misshapen star shaped scar ran across it.
Avery's pupils contracted. The familiar chill of being dragged into an abyss washed over her instantly.
The outline of that scar was like a rusted key, forcing open a door she had locked for seven years.
A phantom pain shot through her wrist. It merged with the memory of that night on the gambling ship. The same crushing grip, the same force that pinned her to the wet deck. Salty air. The dizzying sway of the boat. Her own sobs swallowed by the sound of waves. Countless fragments came roaring back to life with that scar.
No. Impossible.
She held her breath, staring at that pale raised mark. Her fingers trembled uncontrollably. Scars like this were everywhere. But when Dominic tightened his grip again in his sleep, that exact crushing force that felt like it could shatter her bones... it nearly destroyed the last shred of her reason.
Too similar. Not just the scar. That violence that even sleep couldn't calm.
She pushed herself up, trying to free herself from his arm. Her gaze accidentally swept across the corner of the desk.
An envelope sat there. Sealed with wax. The wax stamp was a gold letter "D."
Avery's breath stopped.
That letter D.
Seven years ago, on the gambling ship. The black diamond ring that slipped off that man's finger. Engraved on the band was the same letter.
She stared at the envelope for so long she counted Dominic's breathing three times before forcing herself to look away.
Coincidence. There were too many coincidences in this world.
The rain outside had stopped at some point. The dead silent room held only Dominic's terrifyingly steady breathing. He still had her locked in his arms. The heat from his palm burned her skin. It hurt.
Avery couldn't break free. She lay stiff in his arms, eyes closed, shivering without meaning to.
The sun would come up.
She counted.
One.
Nine left.
Avery didn't know when she passed out.
When she woke, she was lying on the hard leather sofa.
Cold morning light filtered into the room, making it look like a giant operating theater.
No unnecessary decorations. Cold gray walls. Dark metal lines. The smell of rust and cold pine in the air pressed down on her chest.
Avery sat up sharply and looked down at herself in panic.
Her coat had been draped back over her. Even the button that had popped off was tucked neatly into her pocket. This level of meticulous, almost obsessive precision made her skin crawl.
Dominic sat in a black office chair by the window.
He had changed into a charcoal black suit. No tie. The top button of his shirt was open, revealing a strip of pale neck. He was staring at a computer screen, his bony fingers tapping the desk occasionally. His expression and demeanor showed no trace of last night's unraveling.
"Twenty thousand dollars."
His voice was flat. Detached. Magnetic. He opened a drawer, pulled out a check already signed, and flicked it across the marble desktop. It slid to a stop in front of Avery.
"That's for last night." He finally looked up. His eyes, like dry wells, reflected her pale, disheveled face.
"Due to side effects from the medication, I wasn't fully conscious last night. I trust the doctor understands that certain unprofessional noises don't need to leave this room."
He was drawing a line. And warning her.
Avery reached out and quickly tucked the check into her coat. The paper was light, but it crushed her pride with its weight.
"I understand." Avery took a deep breath and turned toward the door. "Since the first session is over, I'll follow the contract and come back at the next scheduled time."
"Who said you could leave?"
Dominic's voice wasn't loud, but it caught her steps like a cold iron chain. Avery turned and met his eyes. Watching. Cruel. Amused.
"I thought I made myself clear." Avery held up her professional mask. "My brother needs care at the hospital, and your condition has entered the observation phase."
"Observation phase means the doctor needs to stay within sight." Dominic set down his coffee cup. He crossed his long legs and leaned back, settling into a purely predatory posture. He pressed a button on the desk phone.
"The doctor will need to stay here until the ten sessions are complete." He spoke quietly into the phone, but his eyes never left Avery's face. They swept over her trembling lashes and stopped at the red marks on her wrist.
"Mr. Kessler, this is false imprisonment."
"No, Dr. Clair."
Dominic stood and walked toward her. His neatly pressed cuff hid the star shaped scar that made her tremble. All that remained was the sharp, aggressive scent of cold pine.
"It's called contract security. After all, if you really saw something you shouldn't have in this room last night, the only reason you're still alive is that you haven't cured me yet."
He stopped in front of her. Close enough for her to see the fine weave of his suit.
"Until the tenth injection, you're not going anywhere."
Dominic's long fingers ghosted over her cheek. He didn't touch, but the chill of death ran through her.
"Now, take a shower. That peach scent of yours... it's too loud."
Two black suited guards appeared at the door. Silent. Blocking her only way out.
Avery clenched the check and walked into the bathroom. The moment the door closed behind her, her phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
She stared at the screen and opened it.
A picture. Black background. White letters.
"Project 030"
Her thumb stopped over the screen.
A line of smaller text appeared below.
"You're already inside."
She stared at the words. Her heart beat twice. She tried to take a screenshot.
The screen went black.
The message was gone.
Continue Reading
The Don's Dangerous Addiction of Contents
New Release Novels
8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
7.2
Four years ago, Madelynn accepted money from Caiden's family and vanished. She thought it was for the best-he would remain the untouchable heir while she faced her tough life alone.
When they met again, Caiden humiliated her in public, yet appeared when she was cornered by a difficult client, pulling her back into his life.
He forced her to stay as his lover, using her mother's medical bills as leverage, whispering, "What you owe me... you'll repay the same way."
Madelynn believed he despised her. Only after the accident, when he ran toward her before the explosion, did she understand-he never let go.
7.4
Briony was devastated when her boyfriend proposed to her best friend in front of her. Not only was she betrayed, but she was also publicly humiliated.
Five years later, she became popular after writing her heartbreaking love story into a novel. Her ex-boyfriend was offended. When he condemned her, she swore she would have nothing to do with him anymore.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Briony accidentally hit a child with her car, who turned out to be the son of Alexander, her ex-boyfriend! As punishment, she was forced to be his nanny until his cast arm healed.
What would happen next? Could she endure the torture from the ex who secretly still wanted her?
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.
9.4
Dorene survived a terrifying night with a bleeding, dangerous intruder in her hotel penthouse, only to receive a far more devastating blow the next morning.
A black and gold envelope arrived. It was an engagement invitation. Her boyfriend of seven years, Kadyn, was marrying her sweet, innocent best friend, Dolly.
Refusing to hide, Dorene crashed the gala in a blood-red gown. But Dolly was ready. Grabbing Dorene's wrists, Dolly purposely threw herself backward into a tower of champagne glasses, shrieking about her stomach and her unborn baby.
"If anything happens to Dolly or my child, I swear to God, I will destroy you!"
Kadyn roared, holding the weeping Dolly in the broken glass. He didn't ask a single question. He branded Dorene a jealous monster. To completely break her dignity, he publicly handed her over to the city's most notorious, sleazy playboy just to appease Dolly's fake tears.
"Give him a shot," Kadyn told her coldly.
Seven years of love were ground into the marble floor. She was framed, publicly humiliated, and discarded like trash by the two people she trusted most.
Dorene didn't shed a single tear. She gave them a smile of pure, freezing mockery and walked out of the gilded cage into the freezing Manhattan night. She didn't know that as she left, the lethal, blood-stained man from her penthouse was watching from the shadows, ready to help her burn their world to the ground.
