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Chapter 3I told myself I wouldn’t go.All day I buried myself in vendor emails, seating charts, and floral mock-ups for a wedding that wasn’t even mine to want.Every time my phone lit up with another message from Victoria’s assistant She loves the blush roses, but can we make the ceremony more intimate?my stomach twisted harder.Yet at 7:25 p.m. I was standing in front of his building again, heart racing like a trapped bird.This time I’d worn a simple black wrap dress that tied at the waist.One tug and it would fall open. No bra. No panties. Easier to ruin, just like he’d ordered.I hated how obedient that made me feel.I hated how wet it made me.The elevator doors slid open into the penthouse.The lights were even lower tonight, the music slower, darker something with a throbbing bass that settled low in my belly.Lucas stood at the windows, staring out at the glittering city, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers.He’d changed into a charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled up to

Tomorrow night, Same time.Chapter 5I barely made it home from lunch before the shaking started.My thighs were still slick with Lucashis release from the bathroom mixing with my own shameful arousal.I stripped off the red silk dress in my tiny apartment bathroom and stood under the hottest shower I could stand, scrubbing until my skin turned pink.It didn’t help. Every drop of water felt like his hands.Every breath carried the low growl of his voice in my ear: Look at yourself… dripping for me while my fiancée waits.By 7:15 p.m. I was back at his building, wearing a loose black sweater dress that fell to mid-thigh.No underwear. The notebook burned in my bag like contraband. I told myself this would be the last time.One more night of filthy vows and mind-shattering pleasure, then I’d find a way to extract myself from this job before the wedding planning spiraled any deeper.The lie felt thinner than the lace I’d stopped wearing.The penthouse lights were dimmed to a warm amber g

SecretsChapter 7I barely slept after leaving Lucas’s penthouse.The green silk dress lay crumpled on my bedroom floor like evidence.His words kept circling.The wedding is arranged… business… alliances. And worse I’m calling it off. Soon.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Victoria’s polite smile from lunch, heard her voice on the speakerphone praising my work while Lucas was still inside me.The text about the prenup and “discretion” clawed at my mind.If it was all just cold business, why did she sound so warm, so invested?By 7:20 p.m. I was back at his building anyway, wearing a simple cream colored wrap dress that tied loosely at the side.One pull and it would open completely. No underwear.My skin still remembered the way he’d taken me against the glass the night before.The notebook in my bag felt heavier than ever, its pages filled with vows that had crossed far beyond professional.The penthouse smelled faintly of expensive wine tonight. Candles flickered on the low table

You're mine Chapter 9Fear should have kept me away.The story of the missing planner replayed in my mind like a warning siren the woman who came before me, who got too close, who overheard the wrong secret and simply… vanished.Victoria’s calm threat on speakerphone still chilled my blood. Yet here I was at 7:30 p.m., letting myself into Lucas’s penthouse with the key he’d given me, my body already humming with treacherous need.The emerald slip dress from last time clung to my skin, the silk cool against my heated flesh. No underwear. No barriers.I left the notebook on the island and waited on the sectional, legs crossed, heart slamming against my ribs.When the elevator doors opened, Lucas stepped out looking wrecked tie loosened, hair tousled, eyes wild with a mix of hunger and something darker. He saw me and froze for half a second.“You came,” he rasped.“I shouldn’t have.” My voice was breathy, already betraying me. “Not after what Victoria said. Not after hearing about her.”

Broken RulesChapter 1First StrikeThe final bell echoed through the crowded hallways of Hawthorne Academy like a challenge.Victoria Hale kept her head down, books clutched tightly to her chest, pleated navy skirt brushing her knees as she moved through the sea of navy blazers and loosened ties.At nineteen, she was a junior quiet, top of her class, and desperate to graduate early. The scholarship was her only ticket out of this suffocating world of spoiled legacies and whispered judgments.One more year and she could leave Hawthorne, her father’s ironclad rules, and the crushing pressure of being the “charity case” who had to be perfect just to survive.Until Damien Voss ruined everything.He was leaning against her locker again, arms crossed, looking far too old and dangerous for a senior.At twenty-one, he had repeated years after too many suspensions and disciplinary hearings. Tall and broad-shouldered, Damien had messy black hair, sharp dark eyes, and a jaw sharp enough to cut