LOGINThe most dangerous mistake a powerful man can make… is breaking the woman he cannot live without. Nash Blackthorpe is a billionaire playboy. As COO of Midas Media, he expands his father's empire on pure ambition, to prove himself against his half brother and inherit the CEO position. From early on women were just a commodity, his pleasures bought and paid for. He didn't entertain a relationship, all his liaisons were contracted. Then came Valentina...the anomaly...the only woman who didn't accept the contract he offered but negotiated. For one year, the arrangement was perfect, he came to her every weekend and their chemistry, the heat and hunger between them was off the charts. But then she did what every woman did, she over reached. Said she wanted more...and Nashian had one way of dealing with that...shut it down immediately. He was Nashian Blackthorpe - she was nobody. An orphan, living in a Penthouse he paid the rent on, receiving a generous monthly stipend for services rendered...she needed him...he called the shots. But his mistake was thinking that Valentina was like all his previous contracted lovers...because Valentina never wanted money or status...she had just wanted him. So she didn't wait to be rejected or replaced...she left him. And no woman has Ever left Nash and only then did he realise what he had actually lost.
View MoreAuthor's Foreword
This story has been entered into the Doing Me to the Fullest Contest. I hope it resonates with all of you that do me the honour of reading it as well as the judges of the contest. I wrote this story for every person that till this day hold a space in their hearts for their first love. If you felt that tingle, if your heart raced, if butterflies swarmed your tummy then you will understand Valentina. Unfortunately, the harder you love, the more intense is the heartbreak. This is her story. A warning that the book includes some dark elements that might affect some readers. Dom/sub relationship. Bdsm. Sexual themes and references. Child neglect. Drug abuse/addiction. Stalking. On screen and off screen rape. Prologue Present Day - February 6th 2026 The black dress hung from the closet door while I stared at it like it belonged to someone else's life. Funeral attire. I swallowed hard and folded another blouse into my carry-on before glancing automatically toward the clock on the wall. 1:42 p.m. My flight to New York left in three hours. The house was quiet except for the muted television playing in the background while rain tapped softly against the gabled windows. Rain. Always rain when my life hurt. A bitter little laugh almost escaped me at the thought. I zipped the side compartment of my suitcase before pausing beside the kitchen counter where Dianne's funeral notice still lay beneath my phone. DIANNE BAILEY - Beloved Founder of Bailey's Books The ache in my chest deepened instantly. Dianne had been the first person to truly see me. Not as a foster kid. Not as some pretty distraction. Not as a charity case. She saw talent. Potential. Worth. Even after I left New York, she never stopped checking on me. Phone calls. Emails. Birthday messages. Nothing to do with work, everything to do with being a true friend. The last voicemail she'd left me three weeks ago before she was admitted to hospital still sat unanswered in my inbox. My contract with them had come to an end. She wanted me to consider a bigger publishing house. That was unthinkable to me. I had ignored it. Thought she would reconsider after some time - and just kept working on the next two books. Now there would never be another call. Another warm laugh. Another "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart." Grief settled heavily against my ribs. I turned away quickly, reaching for my passport before the tears could come again. The television volume suddenly rose. "—breaking news out of New York this evening—" I barely paid attention at first. Not until the familiar name hit me like a physical blow. "Nashian Blackthorpe, COO of Midas Media Group—" Everything inside me froze. The passport slipped from my fingers onto the counter. Slowly...almost unwillingly...I turned toward the television. And there he was...Nash. My Nash. Two years later and my traitorous heart still recognized him instantly. Tall. Perfectly tailored charcoal suit. Dark chestnut hair immaculately styled. Cold masculine beauty sharpened by age and power. He stood behind the podium inside the Midas Media headquarters press room looking exactly the same. Blue eyes sharp and intelligent, the sexy mouth curled in a small smile, powerful body relaxed. Maybe that was what hurt most. Because he seemed untouched and I might look the same but I was nothing like the girl he had destroyed. A stunning slim blonde stood beside him with one manicured hand resting possessively on his arm. Tiffany Lawson. Soap actress. Media darling. Daughter of Edward Lawson, owner of Lawson Broadcasting Network. She was beautiful. Polished. In a daring designer dress that hugged her curves and a satusfied smile playing on her scarlet tinted lips. The kind of woman who belonged beside powerful men in public. The reporter on-screen continued enthusiastically. "Sources confirm the formal engagement celebration will take place Valentine's Day weekend at the Plaza Hotel, attended by celebrities, politicians and some of the biggest names in media and finance." Valentine's Day. Of course. Another cruel twist. My throat tightened viciously. Cameras flashed wildly across the room as Tiffany lifted her left hand to display a massive diamond ring. Then she smiled up at Nash. And he smiled back. Not the cruel smile I remembered. Not cold. Not detached. But warm. Present. Intimate. Like a secret between two lovers. Which I suppose they were. Something sharp and ugly twisted through my chest so suddenly I had to grip the edge of the counter. I had always known this day would come. Of course I did. Men like Nashian Blackthorpe eventually married women like Tiffany Lawson. Women from powerful families. Women who elevated brands and media influence and corporate alliances. Not broken little girls from trailer parks who still flinched when voices got too loud. Still...the heart is a fickle organ. Pain shot through me so violently it stole my breath for a second. Because some pathetic broken piece of me had apparently never fully stopped loving him. Even now. Even after everything. I watched Tiffany lean closer toward him while reporters shouted questions. One reporter called out loudly. "When did you know Tiffany was the one?" The camera focused tightly on Nash. And for one terrible second my heart betrayed me completely by remembering another February. A different ring. A hopeful proposal. A wish for a future I had foolishly imagined. Nash gave a smooth, practiced smile and then looked deep into Tiffany's eyes. "When you know, you know." The words hit like a knife sliding cleanly between my ribs. I looked away instantly. Oh God. Why now? When I was still reeling with the death of Dianne. Humiliation burned through me. I shouldn't care anymore. I had rebuilt myself from the ruins he left behind. Built a career. Built a life. Built walls stronger than the girl who once waited every weekend for scraps of affection. So why did it still hurt? Why did resentment still claw beneath my skin watching him give another woman the warmth, the affection he denied me? I folded my arms tightly across my stomach, trying to bury the bitterness rising inside me. It didn't help. Because suddenly I wasn't standing in my house in Florida anymore. I was back there. Back in Manhattan. Back in that penthouse. Back on my knees holding a titanium promise ring while the man I loved looked at me like I disgusted him. And just like that...My mind dragged me back two years into the moment everything fell apart.ValentinaTwo Years Ago – Friday 6th March 2024 - En Route to JFK AirportThrough teary eyes, I watched my uber pulled up to the kerb. The Uber driver stepped out and loaded my luggage into the trunk before opening the back door for me. "JFK?" he asked kindly. I nodded mutely.The warmth inside the car made everything worse somehow. As if the comfort and sanctuary of it was mocking the coldness and isolation that was already wrapping itself around my soul.As we pulled away from the curb, I looked up automatically toward the towering penthouse windows high above the city.Dark. Empty. No sign that once I had lived and loved there. My vision blurred again instantly.With every block we put between us, it felt as though another piece of my heart was being left behind.The ache became unbearable.I wrapped my arms around myself as if I could somehow hold together everything that had just shattered.I couldn't.The first sob escaped before I could stop it.Then another. Soon my entire bo
31st March 2025 - Blackthorpe Estate, Upper East SideGordon BlackthorpeNash continued exactly as before. Still with the Monday and Wednesday arrangements. The other women were still coming and going.Good. It meant she was nothing special, just clever enough to negotiate a better deal. At the end of the day, she was just another fucktoy. Nash remained true to form. It was just sex, bought and paid for. Nothing more.But I had kept tabs, waiting for the expiration date. Then Norman phoned one Friday afternoon. "I've got movement." I remembered smiling with satisfaction. "She's leaving."His surveillance photographs arrived within the hour. Valentina Rossi. Dragging two suitcases out of the luxury building. Face blotchy, streaked with tears as she entered the taxi.Good…she was given the boot. Nash never went back for seconds, so there would be no reconciliation. No looking back.I had smiled into my whisky. “That’s right you little gold digger. Go on your merry way.” Order was rest
Gordon Blackthorpe31st March 2025 - Blackthorpe Estate, Upper East SideI poured myself a double Macallan and downed it neat. The whisky burned all the way down, but I barely noticed. It may as well have been cheap rotgut for all I cared. Tonight I wasn't drinking to appreciate eighteen years of craftsmanship and smoky perfection. I was drinking because I was furious.I poured another double and carried the crystal tumbler to my study. The familiar scent of polished mahogany and leather usually calmed me. Tonight, it did nothing.I lowered myself into the wingback chair behind my desk, the leather creaking beneath my weight, and stared out over the manicured gardens lit up by flares in late evening.Every inch of it represented decades of sacrifice, ruthless decisions and calculated risks. It represented control. Tonight, for the first time in years...I felt it slipping. I stared out at the perfectly manicured grounds now lit up with garden flares, my grip tightening around the glas
ValentinaSunday, 8th February 2026We said our goodbyes to the Belladonna team amid another round of hugs and excited promises.Matteo clasped my hands warmly when we got to the entrance. "Bellina, you saved my show. Both of you did." He looked between Ethan and me before smiling. "I will never forget this."I laughed softly. "You can stop thanking us now.""No." He placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Italians don't work that way."Everyone chuckled.He turned serious again. "I'll need you back Monday, Wednesday and Friday from twelve until two. Final fittings, rehearsal walks, choreography. We only have five days until the show."I nodded. "I'll be here."He nodded and then mused. "And I still need to figure out how I'm going to repay you both.""You already have," Ethan answered easily. "Seeing Val in that white excuse for clothing, my sister smiling like a goof and discovering an alternate career path if law doesn’t cut it…” Ethan teased.I blushed…hard…Olivia elbowed me in th
2 years ago – Friday 28th February Valentina The call came early on Friday morning. Dianne, my publisher, breathless with excitement and enthusiasm had told me that we had done it. My breath caught…A million...the number seemed unreal for a series that had been out for just a year and a half.
Author's Foreword This story has been entered into the Doing Me to the Fullest Contest. I hope it resonates with all of you that do me the honour of reading it as well as the judges of the contest. I wrote this story for every person that till this day hold a space in their hearts for their first
2 years ago – Saturday 29th February Valentina The battle in front of the mirror continues. My subconscious tuts, mocking me. *He chose you for weekends Valentina...* she corrects. 'There’s a difference.* My reflection blurs. I’m not crying. I refuse to cry before I even try. My hands are trem
2 years ago – Saturday 29th February ValentinaI woke up later than normal, the sun already high in the sky.I blushed as last night came rushing back. Nashian had been an absolute animal. He had taken me three more times. In the shower, strapped to the bench and finally on the giant four poster






Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.