The TakeOver

I first met Tristan Miles at a meeting where he was trying to take over my late husband’s company. He was powerful, arrogant, and infuriatingly gorgeous, and I hated him with every cell in my body. In the shock of the century, he called me three days later and asked me on a date. I would rather die than date a man like him—though I do have to admit it was good for the ego. Turning him down was the highlight of my year. Six months later, he was the guest speaker at a conference I attended in France. Still arrogant and infuriating—but this time, surprisingly charming and witty. When he looked at me, I got butterflies. But I can’t go there. He’s just a player in a hot suit, and I’m just a widow with three unruly sons. I just need this conference to be over. Because everybody knows that Tristan Miles always gets what he wants…and what he wants is me.

Chapters

Chapter 2

“Fine, thanks,” I reply, my patience being tested. “Let’s just cut to the chase, Mr. Miles, shall we?”

“Tristan,” he corrects me.

“Tristan,” I reply. “Why do you want to meet with me so badly? What could possibly warrant you calling me five times a week for the last month?”

He brushes his pointer finger over his big lips, as if amused, and his eyes hold mine. “I’ve been watching Anderson Media for some time now.”

I raise my eyebrow again. “And do tell—what have you learned?”

“You are letting staff go every month.”

“I’m downsizing.”

“Not by choice.”

Something about this man rubs me the wrong way.

“I’m not interested in what you’re offering, Mr. Miles,” I snap. I feel a sharp kick under the table to my ankle, and I wince in pain. Ow . . . that hurt. I glance at Marley. She widens her eyes in a shut-up-now signal.

“How do you know I want to make you an offer?” he replies calmly.

How many times has he had this conversation? “Don’t you?”

“No.” He sips his coffee. “I would like to buy your company, but I’m not offering a free pass.”

“Free pass,” I scoff.

Marley kicks me again . . . oh shit, that hurt. I throw her a dirty look, and she fakes a broad smile. “Happy, happy,” she mouths.

“And what do you mean by a free pass, Mr. Miles?”

“Tristan,” he corrects me.

“I’ll call you whatever I want.”

He gives me a slow, sexy smile, as if loving every minute of this. “I can see you’re a passionate woman, Claire, and that’s admirable . . . but come on. Let’s be serious here.”

I roll my lips, willing myself to stay silent.

“The last three years your company has run at a massive loss. You’re losing advertising accounts left, right, and center.” He steeples his hand on his temple as he stares at me. “I’m guessing the financials are a nightmare.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as we stare at each other.

“I can take everything off your hands, and you can take a hard-earned break.”

Anger begins to pump through my blood. “You would love that, wouldn’t you? Play Mr. Nice Guy and take everything off my hands . . . come in on your horse and save the day like a white knight.”

His eyes hold mine, and a trace of a smile crosses his face.

“I will hold on to my company if it’s the last thing I do.” I again feel a swift kick, and I jump, losing the last of my patience. “Stop kicking me, Marley,” I splutter.

Tristan breaks into a broad smile as he looks between us. “Keep kicking her, Marley,” he says. “Kick some sense into her.”

I roll my eyes, embarrassed that my assistant is kicking the shit out of my ankles.

He sits forward, his purpose renewed. “Claire, let’s get one thing straight. I always get what I want. And what I want is Anderson Media. I can take it now from you for a good price that will protect you. Or”—he shrugs casually—“I can wait for six months until the liquidators move in and get it for next to nothing, and you can face bankruptcy.” He steeples his hands on the table in front of him. “We both know the end is near.”

“You self-conceited prick,” I whisper.

He tilts his chin to the sky and smiles proudly. “Nice guys come last, Claire.”

My heart begins to beat faster as my anger builds.

“Think about it.” He takes out his business card and slides it across the table.

TRISTAN MILES

212-555-4946

“I know this is not how you want to sell your company. But you need to be a realist,” he continues.

I stare at him, sitting there all cold and heartless, and I feel my emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

Our eyes are locked. “Take the offer, Claire. I’ll email you a figure this afternoon. You will be taken care of.”

My sanity rubber band snaps, and I sit forward. “And who will take care of my late husband’s memory, Mr. Miles?” I sneer. “Miles Media sure as hell won’t.”

He twists his lips, uncomfortable for the first time.

“Do you know anything about me and my company?”

“I do.”

“Then you’ll know that this company was my husband’s labor of love. He worked for ten years to build it up from the ground. His dream was to hand it down to his three sons.”

His eyes hold mine.

“So . . . don’t you fucking dare”—I slam my hand on the table as my eyes fill with tears—“sit there with that smug look on your face and threaten me. Because believe me . . . Mr. Miles, whatever you’re dishing out isn’t half as bad as losing him.” I stand. “I’ve already been to hell and back, and I will not have some rich, spoiled bastard make me feel like shit.”

He rolls his lips, unimpressed.

“Don’t call me again,” I snap as I push back my chair.

“Think about it, Claire.”

“Go to hell.” I begin to storm to the door.

“She’s just having a bad day. We’ll definitely think about it,” Marley splutters in embarrassment. “Thanks for the cake—it was yummy.”

I angrily wipe the tears from my face as I run down the stairs and out the front doors. I can’t believe I was so unprofessional. Tears fill my eyes again. Oh well, at least I stood up to him, I guess.

Marley runs to keep up with me. She wisely stays silent and then looks up and down the street. “Oh, screw this, Claire—let’s not go back to work. Let’s go get drunk instead.”

Continue to next part

The studio felt like a tomb at this hour, all chrome and glass surfaces reflecting the dim security lighting back at me in fractured pieces. My heels clicked against the polished floors as I made my way through the maze of corridors, past darkened offices and silent editing bays. Tomorrow would be the season finale—the culmination of months of work, sleepless nights, and careful orchestration. But tonight, I just needed to retrieve the contracts I'd forgotten in my rush to leave earlier. The security guard had nodded at me with familiar recognition when I'd badged in. "Working late again, Ms. Ryan?" he'd asked, and I'd managed a tired smile. If only he knew how many nights I'd spent in this building, crafting something extraordinary while the rest of the world slept. My office was on the executive floor, but as I approached the elevator bank, I noticed light spilling from beneath Tyler's dressing room door. My steps slowed involuntarily.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.4

Bound To The Monster Who Ruined Me

8.4

Ayleen Avery was just a struggling hotel worker trying to survive her shift. But during a sudden blackout, she accidentally stumbled into the pitch-black VIP suite of a ruthless billionaire driven mad by chronic insomnia. Calmed only by her unique natural scent of roses and rain, the terrifying man attacked her from the shadows and forced himself on her. Terrified and broken, Ayleen fled at dawn, unknowingly leaving behind her late mother's antique rose necklace in his bed. Her greedy coworker found the necklace, claimed to be the woman from that night, and was instantly swept into a life of luxury. Meanwhile, Ayleen was blackmailed into a forced marriage with her attacker—Cassius Doyle—to save her adoptive father from prison. Deceived by the stolen necklace, Cassius believed Ayleen was a manipulative spy. He brought the coworker into their home and paraded her around the master bedroom. "In this house, you are lower than the dirt on my shoes." He choked Ayleen, forced her to sleep in a damp storage room, and treated her with violent disgust while pampering the thief. Ayleen was suffocating in absolute despair. She had lost her innocence, her freedom, and her mother's only relic to a vicious liar. She couldn't understand how this all-powerful man could be so completely blind. Why couldn't he recognize the very scent that had cured his agonizing madness? Staring at the dark bruises he had just left on her neck, Ayleen wiped the blood from her lip. She would endure this three-month marriage to secure her family's safety, but once the contract ended, she would expose the truth and tear down the fake savior he cherished so much.

Billionaire Horror Romance

8.0

Breaking Free from Possession

8.0

The crystal chandelier cast fractured light across the marble floor of the Hamilton estate's grand ballroom, where tomorrow's wedding guests mingled with champagne flutes and cruel anticipation. I stood at the threshold, my hands trembling as I clutched the invitation that had summoned me here—not as a guest, but as tonight's entertainment. "Ah, there she is." Rosalie's voice cut through the elegant murmur of conversation like a blade wrapped in silk. She glided toward me in her rehearsal dinner gown, a vision of ivory perfection that made my simple black dress feel like sackcloth. "Ladies and gentlemen, our special guest has arrived." Every head turned. Every conversation stopped. The weight of their stares pressed against my skin like hot coals, and I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the marble beneath my feet. "What is this, Rosalie?" I whispered, though I already knew. The predatory gleam in her eyes, the way Gideon stood silent by the fireplace with his jaw clenched—this was my punishment for six years of loving him. "Entertainment, darling." Her smile was razor-sharp.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.2

Forbidden: My Husband's Brother

9.2

I never belonged here. To the Hall family, I was a gold digger who married their son for wealth. And their hatred only deepened when he died and I was framed for his murder. Pregnant and locked behind bars, I was ready to give up. Until a deal was offered... My freedom in exchange for a marriage of convenience to my dead husband's brother. I had no choice but to accept. I needed my freedom... to protect my child, to find the real killer and to find who framed me for his death. But how can I search for the truth when the murderer might be living under the same roof... sharing the same bed?

Billionaire Mystery Romance

7.0

Rising From Hell: The Vengeful Heiress Returns

7.0

I was the Stanton family heiress, engaged to the President's son to secure a vital military alliance. But he cornered me in the White House sitting room, slamming a thick manila folder onto the marble table. "I said, sign the annulment agreement, Hester." He looked at me like I was dirt, demanding I step aside so he could be with a manipulative intern named Tricia. In my past life, I was a naive lamb. I cried and begged him not to end it. My devotion was rewarded with absolute cruelty. He ordered my bones broken and my reputation completely shredded. My trusted assistant forced poison down my throat, and I was left to die with a rope burning my neck. Until my last breath, I didn't understand. I had done everything perfectly for the family. Why did my unwavering loyalty only bring me a gruesome death? Why did the monsters who tortured me get to live happily in the highest seats of power? Opening my eyes again, the suffocating terror of the noose suddenly washed away. I was sixteen again, staring at the exact same annulment papers. "Hester, please. Just let us be happy," Tricia whimpered, reaching out her trembling hand. This time, I didn't cry. I picked up the solid gold fountain pen, stabbed it violently through the center of the contract, and prepared to drag the entire First Family straight to hell.

Billionaire Modern

8.3

She Signed Away the Throne He Never Knew She Owned

8.3

Isabella Hartwell built six years of marriage on Marcus Vance's promise that loyalty was enough. On her own birthday, he plays their private footage to a laughing ballroom and slides divorce papers across the table while his mistress fixes her makeup in Isabella's wedding dress. Isabella signs without crying — and only later understands that the signature he forced from her just triggered her estranged father's energy empire into her hands alone. The woman he discarded to look powerful is now the only person who can destroy him. But as Marcus crawls and a stranger named Kai turns out to be no stranger at all, Isabella has to decide whether the only thing worse than being betrayed is becoming the kind of person who can't be reached anymore.

Billionaire Modern Romance

The TakeOver

Chapter 2

You may also like