When fiercely ambitious lawyer **Ryan Cole** attends an art gala hosted by a major client's company, the last thing he expects is to be captivated by anything outside the courtroom. But then he meets **Evelyn Jones** , a passionate and free-spirited artist working behind the scenes of the event. Evelyn, who curated the entire show, is juggling her creative dreams with the constraints of her corporate day job. Their worlds couldn't be more different-Ryan thrives on control and logic, while Evelyn lives for spontaneity and emotion. Yet, as the night unfolds, their banter turns into sparks. Intrigued by each other's perspectives, they begin to cross paths beyond the gala. A chance meeting turns into coffee dates, studio visits, and late-night conversations about art, law, and life. But as Evelyn considers a leap of faith into full-time artistry and Ryan faces a career-defining case with the same company that employs her, their budding connection is put to the test. Caught between duty and desire, they must decide if they can find a common canvas to paint their future together.
Ryan Cole didn't care for art galleries.
They were too vague, too subjective. A blur of color and texture masquerading as revelation. He preferred facts. Precedent. The clean, comforting structure of a contract or the crisp edges of logic. But tonight, logic wasn't on the agenda.
He stepped into the gallery like a man walking into a foreign country without a translator. The event was high-profile-hosted by Solvance, a tech conglomerate and one of his firm's most high-paying clients. He was there to represent Whitmore & Grant, flash a few smiles, and ensure the right people felt seen.
The gallery buzzed with curated elegance. Sleek lighting bathed the room in warmth, illuminating canvases hung with casual precision. Sculptures lined pedestals like silent judges. Waiters in black vests floated by with glasses of champagne and bite-sized art installations disguised as hors d'oeuvres.
Ryan sipped a drink he didn't like and moved through the crowd like a well-dressed ghost.
Then he saw it.
A painting, tucked away on the far wall, half-obscured by a twisting metallic sculpture. It was unlike the rest. No sleek polish, no safe color palettes. This one pulsed with emotion-violent strokes of red slashing through stormy layers of grey and blue. Shadows dragged through light. The chaos wasn't random-it was controlled, but only just.
The title beneath read: Unspoken Noise.
Ryan stepped closer, drawn in despite himself. The canvas felt like a conversation someone had screamed but never said aloud.
"Careful," came a voice behind him, smooth as silk with a subtle rasp. "That one bites."
He turned and saw her.
The woman from the painting. Not literally, of course, but the energy was unmistakable. She had that same magnetic contradiction-messy and graceful, intense and light. Her jumpsuit was smeared with tiny specks of dried paint, as if she'd stepped out of a studio and into this event without pause. Her earrings, shaped like tiny paintbrushes, swung slightly as she tilted her head.
"I take it you're the artist," Ryan said.
"And I take it you're either lost or very bored," she replied with a sly smile.
He chuckled. "Neither. Just... curious."
"About the art, or the company's attempt at pretending they care about creatives?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly the PR rep for this event, are you?"
She stepped forward, arms crossed, but not defensively. "I'm Evelyn Jones. I work in Solvance's design team. I helped curate tonight's collection." A pause. "And that one's mine."
Ryan glanced back at the painting. "It's not subtle."
"It wasn't meant to be."
There was a beat of quiet. Not awkward-just charged. The room buzzed behind them, but in this corner, time slowed.
"Ryan Cole," he said, offering his hand. "Whitmore & Grant."
"Ah. Lawyer," Evelyn said, shaking his hand with a wry grin. "I was wondering when you'd reveal your final form."
"I like to think of it as a necessary evil."
"Depends who you're defending," she said, letting go of his hand and taking a sip from her champagne flute. "Or what you're compromising."
Her words lingered. Ryan studied her more carefully now. She wasn't just witty-she was sharp in a way that cut through pretense. There was a weight behind her playfulness, the kind that came from watching something beautiful fall apart and still finding the nerve to paint it.
"You said this one bites," he said, nodding to the painting. "What were you trying to say with it?"
Evelyn's expression softened, eyes flicking toward the chaotic canvas.
"That some things deserve to be loud. Even if no one's listening."
Ryan didn't answer right away. He just looked at the piece again. Really looked. And for the first time in a while, he didn't try to rationalize what he felt.
He just felt it.
"I should mingle," Evelyn said finally, stepping back. "But thanks for letting Unspoken Noise breathe for a while. Most people glance and move on."
"I'm not most people," Ryan replied, quietly.
She didn't smile this time. She just looked at him like she already knew that.
"Good," she said, and then walked away into the crowd.
He watched her go, unsure why the room suddenly felt louder without her in it.
Akira Vance, a sharp-witted orphan raised in the austere halls of Blackthorn Orphanage, has spent her life fighting for every opportunity. When she earns a scholarship to Blackthorn Academy, one of the most prestigious schools in the country, she sees it as her chance to escape her past and forge a brighter future. But Blackthorn Academy is a world of old money, dark secrets, and unspoken rules. There, she crosses paths with Kyler Vanthorne, the arrogant yet enigmatic heir to the Vanthorne dynasty-a family of powerful witch hunters who secretly control the school's hidden occult society. Kyler's parents, Lucian and Seraphina Vanthorne, are not just wealthy elites; they are high-ranking members of The Obsidian Circle, a secret order that hunts supernatural beings-including the very witches Akira unknowingly descends from. When Akira begins exhibiting strange, uncontrollable abilities, she realizes that her admission to Blackthorn was no accident. Drawn into a deadly game of magic and deception, she must ally with Kyler-who is torn between his family's legacy and his growing feelings for her-to uncover the truth about her origins. As dark forces close in, Akira must decide: will she hide from the power within her, or embrace it and risk everything-including the boy who was meant to destroy her?
"Please trust me, I didn't do anything." "I don't believe you. I am rejecting you as my Queen and giving you the punishment of death." Alina was living outside her pack for five years. Her parents didn't try to contact her and always ignored her. Her best friend convinced her to go back to their pack and she agreed. But she had never imagined what was waiting there for her. She never thought she would meet her mate and had to face betrayal from everywhere. She had to pay for the crime which she never committed. Aaron Robertson is the king of Lycans. He is a very dominant and powerful King who not only rules Lycans but also rules other ranks of werewolves. Everyone is afraid of Lycans and he is the king of them. But who knew that he would get a mate who was just a simple Omega with no powers and strengths? He called her weak all the time but little did he know that his weak Omega would give him the biggest betrayal of his life for which he had to give her the sentence of death.
“Drive this woman out!” "Throw this woman into the sea!” When he doesn’t know Debbie Nelson’s true identity, Carlos Hilton cold-shoulders her. “Mr. Hilton, she is your wife,” Carlos’ secretary reminded him. Hearing that, Carlos gives him a cold stare and complained, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” From then on, Carlos spoils her rotten. Little did everyone expect that they would get a divorce.
Belinda thought after divorce, they would part ways for good - he could live his life on his own terms, while she could indulge in the rest of hers. However, fate had other plans in store. "My darling, I was wrong. Would you please come back to me?" The man, whom she once loved deeply, lowered his once proud head humbly. "I beg you to return to me." Belinda coldly pushed away the bouquet of flowers he had offered her and coolly replied, "It's too late. The bridge has been burned, and the ashes have long since scattered to the wind!"
Her fiance and her best friend worked together and set her up. She lost everything and died in the street. However, she was reborn. The moment she opened her eyes, her husband was trying to strangle her. Luckily, she survived that. She signed the divorce agreement without hesitation and was ready for her miserable life. To her surprise, her mother in this life left her a great deal of money. She turned the tables and avenged herself. Everything went well in her career and love when her ex-husband came to her.
Trigger warning!!! Intended for mature readers who enjoy morally complex, slow-burn, poseesive, forbidden, dark romance that pushes boundaries. ***EXCERPT*** Blood everywhere. Trembling hands. "No!" My eyes blurred. His lifeless eyes stared back at me, his blood pooling at my feet. The man I loved-dead. Killed by the one person I could never escape - my stepbrother. *** Kasmine's life was never hers to begin with. Kester, her stepbrother, controlled and monitored her every move. At first, it was all sweet and brotherly until it began to turn into an obsession. Kester was the Alpha, and his word was law. No close friends. No boyfriends. No freedom. The only consolation Kasmine had was her twenty-first birthday, which was supposed to change everything. She dreamt of finding her mate, escaping the sickening control of Kester, and finally claiming her own life. But fate had other plans for her. On the night of her birthday, not only was she disappointed that she wasn't mated to the love of her life, but she found out that her mate was none other than him - Her tormentor. Her stepbrother. She'd rather die than be mated to a man whom she had known as her big brother all her life. A man who would do just anything to make sure she was his. But when love turns to obsession, and obsession turns to blood, how far can one girl run before she realizes there is nowhere else to run to?
Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms once at peace. The kingdom of Salem and the kingdom of Mombana... Until the day, the king of Mombana passed away and a new monarch took over, Prince Cone. Prince Cone, has always been hungry for more power and more and more. After his coronation, he attacked Salem. The attack was so unexpected, Salem never prepared for it. They were caught off guard. The king and Queen was killed, the prince was taken into slavery. The people of Salem that survived the war was enslaved, their land taken from them. Their women were made sex slaves. They lost everything, including their land. Evil befall the land of Salem in form of Prince Cone, and the prince of Salem in his slavery was filled with so much rage. The prince of Salem, Prince Lucien swore revenge. 🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳🌳 Ten years later, thirty-years old Lucien and his people raided a coup and escaped slavery. They went into hiding and recuperated. They trained day and night under the leadership of the fearless and cold Lucien who was driven with everything in him to get back their land, and take Mombana land too. It took them five years before they ambushed and attacked Mombana. They killed Prince Cone and reclaimed everything. As they screamed out their victory, Lucien's eyes found and pinned the proud princess of Mombana. Princess Danika. The daughter of Prince Cone. As Lucien stared at her with the coldest eyes anyone can ever possess, he felt victory for the first time. He walked to the princess with the slave collar he'd won for ten years rattling in his hand as he walked. He reached close to her and with a swift movement, he collared her neck. Then, he tilted her chin up, staring into the bluest eyes and the most beautiful face ever created, he gave her a cold smile. "You are my acquisition. My slave. My sex slave. My property. I will pay you in spades, everything you and your father ever did to me and my people." He stated curtly. Pure hatred, coldness and victory was the only emotion on his face. .