One night. One mistake. One man who refuses to let her go. Amara Leighton is a rising art curator with a tainted past and a desperate need to stay invisible in the elite world of New York's wealthy. But when she agrees to a nameless, faceless one-night stand at a masked rooftop party, she unknowingly invites the devil into her life. Lucien Wolfe is a billionaire tech mogul with ruthless ambition and an obsession for control. He never mixes business with pleasure-until Amara. Their night together was meant to be anonymous. Temporary. But when he discovers who she is, Lucien makes it his mission to pull her back into his world... and under his control. Now, she works for the man who already owns her body-and is dangerously close to owning her soul. But beneath Lucien's charm lies a vendetta, and beneath Amara's fear hides a secret that could collapse everything. As passion twists into obsession and their chemistry blurs into something darker, neither is prepared for how far they're willing to go-or what they're willing to destroy-for a love born from deception. Because in Lucien's world... Obsession always has a price.
The rooftop club's bass thrummed its way down Amara's spine as a second heartbeat-speedier, crazier, and far more reckless than the first. She shouldn't have come. She'd had a morning meeting at the gallery, and her shoes were killing her like damnation. But she was here now, sipping something amber and potent, dressed in a blood-red satin dress that clung to her like sin, and being leered at by men who kept secrets better than suits.
"Another drink, Miss Leighton?"
She turned to the bartender-a slim brunette with a pierced lip and a knowing smile.
"No, thanks. I'm not here to drown anything tonight."
She was lying. She was always drowning something. Regret. Guilt. Desire.
Especially tonight.
Her eyes cut through the group-taut bodies, loose ethics. New York's aristocracy, disguising themselves incognito in black tie and silk masks. Invitation-only. You weren't allowed in unless you wielded power, wealth, or a name murmured behind hands.
Amara had none of those anymore.
But she did possess an assumed name, a phony invitation, and a body men loved to sin with. That sufficed.
Your mask is slipping," a soft voice spoke behind her, and her heart tripped over itself.
She turned around.
And lost her breath.
He stood somewhat to the side from the rest of the group. Black from head to toe. No tie. A half-mask fashioned in matte obsidian covered the upper half of his face, showing only a jaw carved like temptation and lips that could rewrite scripture.
His presence attacked her like smoke-sluggish, dense, deadly. There was something about him that screamed restraint. Controlled menace. A man who broke rules by existing. But it was his voice-deep, gravelly-that slipped beneath her skin like bourbon-saturated silk.
"Maybe I like being noticed," she shot back, cold in the face of the flame now raging under her dress.
His eyes, guarded behind masked obscurity, searched her as if memorizing the color of her flesh against the strobe lights. "Perhaps I don't."
"What do you like?" she asked, tilting her head. Playing with danger was her one vice.
"One night," he replied bluntly. "No names. No histories. Just need."
Her throat was dry. No man ever approached her so plainly-so neatly with desire. Most men faked. Promised. Created issues.
This one did not.
"I don't usually do this," she breathed, even as her body deceived her in a creeping step forward.
He did the same-graceful, panther-quick. "Neither do I."
Another lie. She knew it. He probably did this every night. Tonight, however, so would she.
He held out a gloved hand. She did not hesitate, then inserted her hand into his. The shock was instantaneous-static and flame colliding beneath skin.
"I have a suite on the top floor," he said to her. "Or we can get this done in a messier location."
A challenge.
She blinked. "I like clean sheets."
A slow, evil smile. "I like watching them get destroyed."
---
The suite was a glass cathedral of darkness. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a skyline dense with light, and a king-sized bed built for destruction.
He closed the door behind them, and in that click, Amara felt something change. Reality blurred. Her heartbeat was a drum of wild expectation.
He spoke not as he removed his gloves, each movement calculated. Her breath caught as he approached, not touching, merely regarding. She felt him in her bones, flesh made of gravity.
"Take off the dress," he instructed.
Not a request.
A command.
She hesitated-but for a moment. Then she leaned forward, slid the straps off her shoulders, and allowed the satin to fall like a sigh to her ankles.
His breath hitched.
Below, she wore nothing but a midnight-colored lace thong. Her nipples pushing against the chill, and his gaze devoured her.
He did not approach.
He moved around her-slow, stalking prey he didn't wish to devour too quickly. "Turn around."
She did.
Fingers stroked against her back. Traced the line of her spine. Down to the crease of her hips. She felt each touch like a prayer.
"Your're real," he whispered. "Too fucking real."
And then his hands were on her-hot, hard, desperate. He spun her around, kissed her like she was property, and she dissolved into him, into the insanity.
The mask remained in place.
His tongue danced against hers, probing, taking control, before he bit her lip-hard enough to make her gasp.
Clothing stripped off in strips. Her thong ripped. His shirt took off. She saw tattoos on his chest-lines, symbols, maybe a name-but he pushed her onto the bed before she could demand to know.
And when he entered her, there was no gentleness.
No sweetness.
Only need. Black. Unyielding. True.
He fucked like a starving man. Possessive. Strong.
And she accepted it like a woman who had not been touched in years.
He gripped her thighs, spreading her wider, deeper, pulling moans from her that didn't sound like hers. The headboard slammed. Sheets tangled. Her nails carved his back. She didn't know where he ended and she began.
"Say you're mine," he growled into her neck.
"No names, remember?" she panted, even as her hips chased him like fire.
"I don't need your name," he whispered, biting her shoulder. "Just your surrender."
And in that moment, she gave it.
Her orgasm washed over her like a wave of lightning and heat, and when he followed, gasping her name-or someone's name-it didn't matter.
Because for those few minutes, she was his.
And he was hers.
---
She woke up alone.
The sheets were chilled. Her body ached in all the right places. On the pillow beside her, coiled like a secret, lay a diamond pendant in the shape of a teardrop.
And no card.
She stared at it, pulse thudding.
Who loses diamonds after a one-night stand?
Amara picked it up, heart racing. There was something written on the back.
A date.
Not the one for today. But one from so very long ago.
She swallowed.
The past she'd thought she'd buried just rattled at her door again.
And it was hidden.
Charlee was left at the altar and became a laughingstock. She tried to keep her head high, but ultimately lost it when she received a sex tape of her fiance and her half-sister. Devastated, she ended up spending a wild night with a hot stranger. It was supposed to be one-time thing, but he kept popping up, helping her with projects and revenge, all while flirting with her constantly. Charlee soon realized that it was nice having him around, until her ex suddenly appeared at her door, begging for another chance. Her tycoon lover asked, “Who will you choose? Think carefully before you answer.”
"I heard you're going to marry Marcelo. Is this perhaps your revenge against me? It's very laughable, Renee. That man can barely function." Her foster family, her cheating ex, everyone thought Renee was going to live in pure hell after getting married to a disabled and cruel man. She didn't know if anything good would ever come out of it after all, she had always thought it would be hard for anyone to love her but this cruel man with dark secrets is never going to grant her a divorce because she makes him forget how to breathe.
She thought he was the villain. He was only trying to save his soul. Rena lives in a world of sunshine, sweets, and simple dreams. Until one reckless decision drops her into a dark realm of secrets, curses and werewolves. Kidnapped, heartbroken. She doesn't know who to trust anymore especially not Logan, the arrogant, cruel Alpha who's keeping her as a hostage. Until she discovers his dark secret. He's been hearing her thoughts all along. Now the walls between them are crumbling. And when feelings grow where hatred once lived, a curse demands that blood becomes a love that demands sacrifice. But how can she give her heart to the one who might need it to die?
The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."
Kara Martin was known as Miss Perfect. She was a beauty with good personality and successful career. Unfortunately, her life changed at one night. She was accused of adultery, losing her job, and abandoned by her fiance. The arrogant man who slept with her did not want to take responsibility. He even threatened to kill her if they met again. What's worse, Kara was pregnant with twins and she chose to give birth to them. Four and a half years later, Kara returned to work at a large company. As the secretary, she would frequently face their notorious CEO. Kara thought it wouldn't be a problem, but as it turned out ... the CEO was the father of the twins!
Rena got into an entanglement with a big shot when she was drunk one night. She needed Waylen's help while he was drawn to her youthful beauty. As such, what was supposed to be a one-night stand progressed into something serious. All was well until Rena discovered that Waylen's heart belonged to another woman. When his first love returned, he stopped coming home, leaving Rena all alone for many nights. She put up with it until she received a check and farewell note one day. Contrary to how Waylen expected her to react, Rena had a smile on her face as she bid him farewell. "It was fun while it lasted, Waylen. May our paths never cross. Have a nice life." But as fate would have it, their paths crossed again. This time, Rena had another man by her side. Waylen's eyes burned with jealousy. He spat, "How the hell did you move on? I thought you loved only me!" "Keyword, loved!" Rena flipped her hair back and retorted, "There are plenty of fish in the sea, Waylen. Besides, you were the one who asked for a breakup. Now, if you want to date me, you have to wait in line." The next day, Rena received a credit alert of billions and a diamond ring. Waylen appeared again, got down on one knee, and uttered, "May I cut in line, Rena? I still want you."