His Fake Fiancee

HANNAH"DON'T GIVE ME THAT FACE." Sterling runs a finger down my arm.I jerk away, feeling as if a bucket of ice water dumps over my head."I'm not giving you anything."The music blares, and our table is busier than ever. No one pays us anyattention. Each person is drunker or higher than the next, dancing or fondling one another in the dimly lit alcove."But you are," he coos, removing his mask and revealing the strong, porcelain features beneath. Amusement dances in his eyes. "I think I'm feeling some moisture on my knees.""You're disgusting." I shoot to my feet, looking around for my shoes. "You think this is some kind of game? It's not. We're done."I snatch my short heels before I plot my behind on the cushioned seat, avoiding his gaze."Stop being so overdramatic. What you saw—you know I can explain if you'd actually let me."Anger pumps through me, and I shove my foot into my shoe roughly. "I'm overdramatic? Okay. Well, you're delusional. Delusional that you think there's any

DAMIENForbidden fruit. A needy temptress under my touch. And as I drive her head down, the tip of my cock smacking the back of her throat, I force myself to remember why I can't have her.She's my younger brother's ex-girlfriend, and she doesn't even know. I had multiple opportunities to tell her, but I didn't.I yank her head up, relishing the way she gasps for air.I did warn her I wasn't the kind of guy she thought I was.But then my brother showed up at the club, all drunk and idiotic asusual. I remember how he touched her, his hand marking her leg. Anger swirls inside me.The way he spoke to her...My grip tightens on her hair. "Apologize.""W-what?" Her voice wobbles in the most perfect way."For making me crazy. That a perfect little thing like you would ever bewith a man like him."She stares at me, shock laced with desire in her eyes."Sterling? I—"Plunging her head down, her answer dies on a choked yelp. I hold herthere, my cock buried in her throat. "Don't say his name

MY FATHER TAUGHT me many life lessons, one of them about taking what I want.If I see something I want, I take it. No questions. I don't need a reason or a moral justification to lull me to sleep at night. All I need is the comforting fact that it's mine and no one else's.Just like the brunette standing in my personal meeting room, staring at me with the most intriguing anger. She doesn't realize it yet, but she's mine. The moment I saw her up against that window in the hotel with hunger and determination flashing behind her eyes, I knew she was my next taking.I want more than a one-night stand. I want her on her knees every night, batting her eyelashes and puckering her lips for me. I want to own all her moans, all her orgasms. And the thought of her under the touch of another man, especially my brother's, makes my skin boil.Call me obsessive and controlling, but it's the reason I started a multi- billion-dollar business using nothing but my brain and the power of negotiation.I w

THAT DID NOT COME OUT RIGHT.I've never done this before—how are you supposed to say that to someone? I sound like I've completely lost my mind.Her chair bursts away from the table, her mouth open on a silent exasperation. She looks frozen, as if she's deciding between staying here with me—who says crazy shit like that—or to bolt and run.My eyes travel downward, to the yellow sundress she's wearing, something so different from anything I've seen on her. It's no less distracting, with its cinched waist and floral design that brings out all her feminine features."Please, tell me I heard that wrong."My collared shirt suddenly feels too tight at the neck. "Hannah, we can help each other."She finally gets to her feet, grabbing her purse and rummaging through it, presumably for money to put on the table so she can ditch me.Her laugh edges with anger. "I don't care about some awakening or your stupid money. You're bad news, and I don't want to hear your fake reason why we need to prete

TONIGHT'S the worst night of every month.My car creeps by the pristinely shaved hedges and rose bushes that linethe perimeter of my family's estate. Rounding a central water feature, I parallel park my McLaren between a shimmering Rolls-Royce and an Aston Martin.It appears most guests have arrived already for our family's monthly dinner. But I don't spot my brother's sports car.He's late, as always.Stepping out, I stare up at the building. I know those excluded from the highest echelons of society would be in awe of such a work of architecture, with its cobbled walls and tall pillars. But all I see are harrowing reminders of a past I shove deep inside myself.Taking a deep breath, I ascend the long row of steps, passing through the front door.Instantly, I recognize the foyer is different as I shrug off my long coat, studying the space. What was once gold with green accents, is now black- and-white checkered tiles and crystal chandeliers. When I dispose of my coat in a nearby clo