His Dirty Money, Her Dark Past
I came to audit Benedict Abernathy's books, not to recognize the cartel scars hidden under his designer suit. One locked stare in his glass office and I knew—he's the same monster who once owned me. Now the ruthless CEO who launders their blood money wants to keep me close, and every brush of his hand makes me forget why I should destroy him. The question isn't if I'll burn his empire down... it's whether I'll let him pull me into his bed first.
Chapters
The elevator in the Abernathy Equity tower smelled like ozone and expensive cologne. Diane Ximenez stood with her back to the mirrored wall, counting ceiling tiles. Thirtytwo. Thirtythree. She whisper...
Read more →The conference room on the thirtysecond floor felt like a fishbowl after midnight. Glass walls reflected the empty desks beyond, turning the space into an echo chamber of Diane's own breathing and the...
Read more →The alarm's wail chased them down the stairwell. Diane's heels clacked against concrete, each jolt shooting up her spine. Benedict's grip stayed firm on her wrist, warm and unyielding. She hated how r...
Read more →The photo felt like evidence in her hands, its edges worn from years of handling. Diane's thumb traced the handwritten scrawl—Still fighting—and her stomach pitched. Marco's presence behind her sucked...
Read more →