Ava Harrison

Ava Harrison – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:33:51 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Ava Harrison – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Cruel Throne Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/cruel-throne-read-online-ava-harrison Sat, 28 Feb 2026 17:33:51 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/cruel-throne-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)

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The first time I met Lorenzo Amante, he walked onto my family estate as the help.
He was everything I didn’t know I needed.
Sweet. Passionate. And most importantly, mine.
But my parents decided he was beneath me and made sure we didn’t survive the summer.
The next time I saw him, he wasn’t a boy anymore.
He was ruthless.
Untouchable.
The devil that burned my parents’ empire to the ground.
He destroyed everything they built.
Everything…except me.
Now I’m forced into a marriage with the boy I once loved—and should now hate.
Lorenzo Amante is no longer sweet.
He is vengeance and death.
A man built from betrayal.
A monster with one goal…
Revenge

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

THE BEGINNING

1

Lorenzo

Mom keeps her hand clamped around my wrist like she thinks I’ll bolt.

To be fair, I might.

The Danforth family estate rises in front of us—if you can even call it an estate. Estates are lawns and fences and maybe a fountain if the owners want to brag. This? This is…obscene. A peninsula jutting into the Long Island Sound, like a giant hand reaching out to strangle the ocean.

The mansion looks less like a house and more like something ripped out of a documentary about robber barons. White stone columns, glass walls that catch the morning sun, balconies stacked like gold. Every inch of it screams money. Old money. The kind that buys influence, hides sins, and buries bodies beneath a philanthropic foundation.

My naive mother beams anyway. I don’t have the heart to tell her there’s probably a room in her new place of employment reserved for sacrificing the poor.

Mom—sweet, sweet Angela, bless her heart—squeezes my wrist as if that might extract enthusiasm from me like juice from a lemon. “Isn’t it beautiful, Enzo?”

“It’s big,” I mutter.

The sigh she gives me, like she gave birth to a disappointment but still loves me enough to endure it, earns her an eye roll.

She swats my hand away when I try to pull her luggage out of the popped trunk of our car. “Be on your best behavior. We need this job. This could pay for—”

“Don’t,” I cut in. “Don’t say college.”

This pipe dream of hers is laughable at best.

Her eyes soften in that way that always makes my chest tighten. “You’re smart enough.”

“People like me don’t end up in colleges.” I tilt my head, pausing to correct, “We clean them. Maybe.”

Not my fault that I spent the past eighteen years as a proud delinquent. Who told the illustrious public school system of Middlesex to make a lazy lifestyle so appealing? Or Kent County. Or Somerset. Or any of the other billion hellholes I’ve hopped in and out of.

Mom swats my arm. “Stop it. You’re going to work hard, keep your head down, and not get into any trouble. You hear me?”

I grunt, which she generously interprets as agreement.

A sleek black golf cart hums toward us. A man in a white uniform hops out, sunglasses cutting half his face.

He doesn’t even glance at me, just nods to my mother. “You must be Mrs. Rossi.”

“Miss,” Mom gently corrects. “Miss Rossi.”

The dude continues without pausing, “The kitchen manager said to bring you straight to staff housing.”

Mom smiles politely. “And my son?”

“Oh. Right. He’ll be in staff housing, too.” The man gestures to me like I’m extra luggage.

Mom nudges me. “Say thank you.”

I don’t. I climb into the back of the golf cart and stare at the mansion as it looms closer, swallowing us whole.

The path curves through gardens that look like they require daily worship. Flowers I can’t name. Bushes trimmed into shapes I didn’t know bushes could be. Marble statues of people who probably never lifted anything heavier than a gold spoon.

The golf cart stops in front of a wing of the estate tucked behind a line of trees. A corridor connects it to the main house, but it’s still far enough away that the staff is out of sight. It’s still nicer than any place I’ve ever lived—clean brick, fresh paint, windows without cracks. Staff housing, I assume.

“Your room is 2B,” the man tells me. “Don’t touch anything outside the servant wing. Don’t wander. Don’t—” He pauses, as if trying to find the right words to avoid calling me what he’s thinking. “Just…keep to your lane.”

I smirk. “I wasn’t planning on graduating to yours.”

He doesn’t laugh. Figures. I have very little faith in the sense of humor of the people who walk these obsessively manicured grounds. “Angela, your room is this one.” He points to the door across the hall from mine.

My mother nods at him, and then the stranger is gone after giving both us our keys. We never even got his name.

My room is small—seven feet by seven feet, with just a dresser and a twin bed that stretches from wall to wall. But that’s not the point. The point is it’s safe.

Which is more than I can say about anywhere we’ve lived in the past thirteen years.

Mom pretends not to notice the way I pause in the doorway or how my chest tightens at the sight of a bed that doesn’t sag, a window without bars, and clean sheets.

“We’ll be fine working here,” she tells herself more than me.

I don’t say anything, just toss my backpack onto the bed and nod in satisfaction when the frame doesn’t collapse into a heap of rotten wood like my last one.

“Go keep yourself busy. I’ll check out my room.” Mom pushes me out the open door. “Maybe go for a walk? Just stay away from the main part of the house unless someone asks for you.”

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Beautiful Collide – Saints of Redville Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/beautiful-collide-saints-of-redville-read-online-ava-harrison Wed, 19 Mar 2025 15:57:28 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/beautiful-collide-saints-of-redville-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >136

Nothing has gone right since my brother’s new teammate entered my life.

Season one: I betrayed him.

Season two: a literal tornado almost ends it all for both of us.
(In my defense, I didn’t summon the tornado. I just happened to lead us to where it hit.)

Season three: I might have unleashed a stampede of teenage fangirls on him.
(Okay. I take full responsibility for this one.)

And season four…
That’s when things get complicated.

Hudson Wilde.
Star right wing for the Redville Saints.
Cocky, infuriating, and the bane of my existence.

Oh, and as of last night, my brand-new husband.

It was supposed to be a wild Vegas celebration for my brother’s hockey championship win.
Instead, I wake up with a splitting headache, a cheap ring on my finger, and my sworn nemesis pounding on my door.

Now, we’re stuck in a secret marriage until we can get it annulled.

These are the rules:
Pretend everything is normal around the team.
Avoid the media at all costs.

But the hardest rule of all?
Fighting the urge to turn "I do" into "forever."

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Molly

I have a monster. A cruel, twisted nightmare that haunts the shadows of my mind. It lurks in my memories, waiting to strike when I’m not ready.

You’re fine, Molly. You’re safe.

“Hurry up.”

I whip my head to look over my shoulder at the words. The girl isn’t speaking to me, but my back still goes ramrod straight.

Tonight is supposed to be exciting. It’s the Frost Cup. The biggest weekend in high school hockey. Teams from all the neighboring states flock to Redville to play in my school’s infamous tournament.

Every inch of the hall leading to the rink is packed. On a typical night, the crowd is chaotic during home games. Tonight, it’s even worse.

Apparently, this team is the best.

That’s why more people are here than usual.

This is the game of the year. Scouts are in the audience. College scouts. Pro scouts. Hell, even my brother’s coach for the Saints is here.

I’m surprised Dane didn’t insist on coming with me. He barely lets me go anywhere alone.

But when he stopped me at the door earlier, I put my foot down.

Told him I was going alone.

I’m a senior, for crying out loud.

And just because my older brother is my guardian doesn’t mean he has to act like an overprotective dad.

“For fuck’s sake, will you people just walk?”

This time, it’s a guy speaking. A real douchebag, by the looks of it.

I keep going, pushing my way through the crowd.

I’m almost there when I see someone familiar standing a few feet away. It’s him. And suddenly, my monster isn’t some faceless shadow in my mind. He’s real, and tangible, and terrifying, and here.

He can’t see me. The world might end if he does. For me, anyway.

A shiver works its way down my spine. I duck to the left, hoping the crowd will hide me.

I can’t talk to him.

I can’t even look at him.

Shit.

I know, without a measure of a doubt, he’s waiting for me.

He wouldn’t be if Dane were here.

How does he know I’m alone?

It doesn’t matter. Escape first. Questions later.

The walls start to close in on me. I can feel my chest tightening.

With a force that rocks my feet, I’m ripped away from the stadium, falling into my memories and succumbing to my vicious monster.

I’m there again.

In the dark . . .

No.

You’re not.

You’re at school. Going to a hockey game. Because everything is normal now.

I’m safe.

I’m protected.

Maybe if I repeat it enough, I’ll believe it.

Someone bumps into me from behind.

“Move, freak.”

I don’t even know the girl scowling at me, but I’m sure she knows me. Thanks to Dane, every student at Redville High knows me.

She turns to her friends and giggles. “I don’t care that her brother is some NHL hotshot. The girl’s a weirdo.”

Her insults barely register. My feet are still weighed down. It feels like someone dumped concrete in my shoes, and for the life of me, I can’t lift my legs to keep going.

Move. Now. He’ll catch you if you don’t.

The sound of rushing water fills my ears, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the darkness pulls me under.

You’re going to die.

My heart thunders in my chest. It’s impossible to breathe.

Great. I’m going to die of a heart attack at seventeen.

I shake my head. No. I won’t let this happen now.

I’ve researched panic attacks, and if I let the intrusive thoughts break in . . .

“Who is she saying no to?” the girl whines, still mere inches away from me in the gridlocked crowd. “Is this bitch for real?”

A shoulder hits me, and I stumble forward.

She laughs. “Careful.”

Usually, I’d say something.

Normally, I also wouldn’t be a sneeze away from a full-fledged panic attack.

I thought I had them under control.

But every time I see him . . .

Without a word, I head in the opposite direction, away from the entrance to the rink. Toward anywhere but here.

I’m almost to the door. Just a few feet away. The exit sign blares red with promises of my escape.

Hopefully, the alarm doesn’t sound when I push open the door and add yet another embarrassing memory to my long list of high school fiascos, but I’m so close to losing my shit, I don’t even care.

The cool metal handle ices my fingers. I push it forward, the door creeping open slowly.

No alarm.

Makes sense. It’s a game day, after all.

I’m sure all the doors are unlocked tonight.

It takes a surprising amount of strength to prop open the heavy door, and the second I do, the cold night air hits me in the face.

It’s dark outside. Much darker than it was in the front of the building, where lights illuminate the black sky.

Here, a halo of stars and a giant moon are my backdrop.

I walk until I can see a faint light from the other side of the building and take a seat on the gum-dotted pavement.

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Twisted Collide – Saints of Redville Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/twisted-collide-saints-of-redville-read-online-ava-harrison Thu, 21 Nov 2024 13:35:14 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/twisted-collide-saints-of-redville-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Forbidden, Sports Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)

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From USA Today bestselling author Ava Harrison comes a new standalone hockey romance.

My dad abandoned me as a baby.
My mom just kicked me out.
Oh, and I can’t stand hockey.

It’s shocking how many drunken secrets Dane Sinclair fleeces from me the night we meet.

It’s supposed to be a one-night stand.
No numbers.
No strings attached.
A release we both desperately need.

Neither of us expect to come face-to-face again on my first day working for the Redville Saints.

Dane thinks I targeted him.
That I seduced him, knowing he’s their star enforcer.

Despite his suspicions, he can’t stay away from me.
I’m his dirty little secret.
His coach’s off-limits daughter.

The whole world thinks he’s a Saint.
It’s about to find out behind the squeaky clean exterior is just another sinner.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

DANE, 18

This is not the best party of the year.

This isn’t even the best party of the month.

Despite the blatant false advertisement, Nick followed through on the endless booze. It leaches from every inch of the living room, wafting up from the couch I’m sulking on.

Coach will kick Nick off the team the minute he finds out about the party—he always does—and he will be out.

It doesn’t help that the “small” gathering spiraled out of control fast. I don’t know half these people.

In front of me, some chick I’ve never seen catches her boyfriend cheating. She winds back her arm, a red Solo cup clutched tight, and launches the stale beer at him.

Of course, she misses.

Of course, it lands on me.

And that’s my cue to leave.

I make my way up the stairs to wash it off. Technically, Nick announced earlier that his room is off-limits. But technically, I don’t give a fuck. I protect him on the ice. If he wants that to continue, he’ll shut the fuck up.

It’s quieter up here and much more tolerable. The hall mutes the music downstairs enough to make out words coming from somewhere nearby.

Nick will lose his shit when he discovers that someone other than me came up here.

I’m about to dip into his room when I hear it.

“Get off me.”

I freeze, wondering if I heard it wrong.

Then, she says it again, and I’m taking off in the direction of the voice. I prowl down the hall, unable to make out who or where she is.

“Get off me!”

The cracked voice sounds too much like fear to ignore.

The thumping bass quakes the floor beneath me. The assholes downstairs are all too drunk to notice anything.

I strain to listen again, but it’s just far enough away that I’m not sure if I’ll be able to.

Eyes narrowed, I peer around the space, but the hazy smoke blurs my vision.

Can’t hear. Can’t see. Just fucking great.

Best guess—it’s coming from a bedroom nearby. The problem is, Nick’s parents are filthy rich, which means there are half a dozen on this floor alone.

My instincts lead me toward the north wing. The closer I get, the more I’m certain the plea wasn’t my imagination. With each step, the telltale signs of a struggle rise. Muffled shrieks. Soft thuds. Heavy grunts.

The second I identify it, I toss open the door.

It takes half a second for the scene to sink in and another half for me to react. I fly across the room faster than I would on skates and land a punch right at the asshole’s elbow.

He releases the fist that’s wrapped around the hair of a girl I don’t recognize. His free hand, working its way beneath her underwear, falls with his shock. She slumps down the wall, free from his hold, and scrambles across the carpet in the opposite direction.

“What the fuck?” the asshole barks, but I don’t answer.

I have him by the throat. He isn’t going anywhere. Now that she’s safe and out of the way, I unleash my anger. All of it. Years and years of pent-up frustration. From being forced to do things I don’t want to do. To being fucked over. To being raised by a shitty father.

I’d never met a piece of shit more worthy of my wrath. A grin dances across my cheeks as I form a fist. With a dark chuckle, I do something I know I shouldn’t.

I throw the first punch.

My hand makes contact with a sickening crack. It isn’t his victim I see. It’s Molly. My little sister. The mere thought is enough to send another surge of protective instinct through me.

I hate bullies. I hate people who pick on others and make them feel small.

And I especially—more than anything—hate any scumbag that would lay a hand on a woman without permission.

It doesn’t matter that this girl isn’t Molly.

I continue to punch, over and over, until he drops to the floor like an anchor. He writhes in place, begging me to stop. I barely register his words, following up my fists with a kick of my feet.

Everything is hazy. I don’t even notice the screams around me. I don’t notice anything. Not the hands pulling me off him. Not the kids yelling that the cops are coming.

All I can do is feel. The chaotic thumps of my heart as adrenaline surges through my veins. The delicious satisfaction each punch and kick brings me. The sight of this handsy fucker on the floor—and the knowledge that I’ll scare him so badly that he’ll never do it again.

“Thank you.”

It’s barely more than a whisper, but it thrusts me back into reality. I turn to the girl this fucker took advantage of, spinning my head away when I notice she’s in the middle of straightening the skirt bunched around her waist.

The situation comes to me piece by piece like a flip book, each flashing at me one after another. The sirens blaring. The footsteps pounding up the steps. And the feel of two cold hands as they jerk my arms around my back and drag me away.

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Sweet Collide Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/sweet-collide-read-online-ava-harrison Sat, 27 Apr 2024 17:49:29 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/sweet-collide-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >130

From USA Today bestselling author Ava Harrison comes a new standalone hockey romance.

Aiden Slate.
Pro hockey star. Captain of the Redville Saints. And the bane of my existence.

All it takes is a little liquid courage to storm his castle.
Or, in this case, a cushy five-star hotel suite.

I’m supposed to give him a piece of my mind.
To unleash a decade of pent-up anger.

What I’m not supposed to do is sign an NDA meant for another woman.

He thinks I’m here to relieve his stress.
Well, he’s in for a rude awakening.

Problem #1? The boy I grew up with doesn’t remember me.
Problem #2? I fall to my knees at his command. Literally.

Next thing I know, I agree to be his fake girlfriend.
He doesn't realize I’m the girl he left behind ten years ago.
The last thing I'll do is admit it.

Because Aiden might have abandoned me all those years ago.
But me? I’ll forever be his.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

1

CASSIDY

Twelve Years Old…

Fairytales are for suckers.

I used to live for the happily ever afters. Dreamed about what my perfect life would be like.

Now I know it’s all bullshit.

A twelve-year-old isn’t supposed to know these things. Isn’t supposed to be so jaded. But I’m not your typical twelve-year-old who gets to daydream and wish upon a star. Nope. Not this girl. Life has it out for me. It’s prepared to kick a girl while she’s down. I can see another gut punch coming from a mile away.

I can feel it in the air. The thick scent of doom. As our beat-up car rolls to a stop, life as I know it is about to change. And by the looks of it—not for the better.

Peering out the window from the backseat, I stare at the small trailer we’ve pulled up to. It’s old. Almost as fossilized as the tooth Dad lost in a parking lot bar fight, wedged so deep into the hood of his car, a pair of pliers couldn’t yank it out. Stripes of paint peel away from the siding. What was once white has now rusted over.

Corroded. Water-stained.

The roof is probably saving its collapse for the moment I step foot in the place. That’s life for me. One big punishment, occasionally punctuated by an odd serving of oatmeal or buttered toast.

I smooth out a hole in the backseat bench, fussing over loose threads, doing everything I can to avoid leaving this car. My mind shifts through a series of inconsequential thoughts.

Who was the last owner?

Is it abandoned?

And if so, for how many years?

Probably since the last world war.

It definitely looks like a casualty of one. I sigh, blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes.

The trailer sits on a snatch of grass, overgrown with weeds that scale up the sides like something out of a horror movie. It’s scary.

We sit here for so long that I convince myself that Dad’s thinking the same thing as me and we’ll ditch this place soon. But that hope quickly vanishes.

Reality is where dreams go to die.

Dad turns off the engine and steps out of the car. I watch as he walks toward my side. A part of me wonders if he’s coming for me. If he’ll open the back door and try to convince me it isn’t so bad.

He walks past me to the trunk. I knew it was wishful thinking. My dad barely acknowledges my existence.

My heart hammers, but I make no move to get out. He must realize I have no plans to exit because he storms to my window. His jaw clenches so tight it might snap.

“Come on.” He stomps his foot on the paved sidewalk, acting like more of a child than I am. “I don’t have all day.”

Normally, I wouldn’t want to piss him off. An angry Dad is a dangerous Dad. But right now, his impatience is the least of my problems. My lack of response must tip him off to the fact.

He yanks the car door open, glaring down at me. A stream of cold air blasts past him and smacks me right in the face. Goosebumps pebble over my arms.

I should get out. I should face my future head-on, but the uncertainty of what awaits me in this new dump I’m supposed to call home has me glued to my seat.

If I sit here a little longer, I can pretend this isn’t happening. Maybe Dad will grow a conscience. Maybe he’ll see how unfair this is and have mercy on me.

And maybe I’ll win the lottery and move to Maui.

It’s useless to hope. I know this. I’ve known it all my life. And still, I clutch my worn-down pink bag tight to my chest and hope.

Dad said I couldn’t bring anything. That we didn’t have room. Judging by the speck of a trailer, I can see why I had to leave my things.

I glance back down at my bag and force a smile, trying for positivity, but it’s short-lived.

This is all you have left in the world, Pippa.

That fact stings worse than the cold bite of air.

He slams a palm on the car frame, eliciting a flinch. “Get out.”

Dad must have more pressing issues than me and my turmoil. He always does. Everybody does.

Is it booze? Drugs? Probably gambling. It could be any of them—and more than likely all three. I imagine the time and attention he gives those three rival what a real parent would give their child. Not that I would know.

What I do know is we’re in this shithole thanks to these vices. It’s tempting to find some of my own. Anything to escape this hell seems good about now.

My heart rattles in my chest as I step out of the car on shaky legs. The door slamming shut behind me sends a shiver sprinting down my spine.

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Resist A Grumpy Enemies to Lover Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/resist-a-grumpy-enemies-to-lover-read-online-ava-harrison Wed, 17 May 2023 05:16:24 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/resist-a-grumpy-enemies-to-lover-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >106

From USA Today bestselling author Ava Harrison comes a steamy standalone romance about a grumpy talent agent and the gorgeous business rival who can’t stand him.

He’s the hotshot agent who hates my guts.
I’m the (almost) one-night stand turned business rival.

Imagine my surprise when Paxton Ramsey shows up across the boardroom table.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

“We must laugh in the face of our helplessness against the forces of nature – or go insane.” ~Charlie Chaplin

PROLOGUE

Paxton

Coming here probably isn't one of my finest decisions. Despite this being part of the job, I have way too much shit to do. Standing around at a party, throwing a Hail Mary for a project that's not even guaranteed to pan out should not be on top of my list of priorities.

It's a long shot that the man who can make it happen will even be here.

Reaching into my pocket, I grab my cell and check the screen.

Fuck.

I'm waiting for a call that could help this night, and my decisions, make sense. So far, there have been absolutely nothing to give me that validation.

Go fucking figure.

I'm trying to make something huge happen for two of my clients—and me. If the stars align, this could be the big one.

The screenplay is in my hands, and the lead actor is already on board. All I need is a director attached to the project to sell this as a package deal to a studio.

We'll still need a leading lady, but with Brad Wright at the helm, we can have the pick of the best of Hollywood to play opposite him.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess of options and ideas when my phone finally pings. When I see my assistant's name light up on the screen, I just about fucking embarrass myself by fist-pumping the air.

Kevin: Stefan Linburg is a no-show. Didn’t RSVP. But since you're already there, have fun. Maybe get laid…

All the air deflates from my chest, and my hand balls into a fist at my side.

I should've known. The man is a recluse who refuses to take traditional meetings, but I had hope. Fickle. Fucking. Hope.

This needs to be pitched in person, and tonight was my best shot. Now I'm back to square one, wondering what’s the next step?

I reread the text, and a laugh rips through my chest at Kevin's suggestion. Get laid. At least he has ideas. Kevin is ingenious like that and always down for forcing me to optimize bad situations.

A good lay would do wonders for my ego at the moment.

Looking around the room, I scan the options. Most of the women here are actresses, which won't bode well for a one-night stand, seeing as I'm a talent agent.

I have no interest in shitting where I eat.

Been there. Done that. Lesson learned.

In the early days of my career, I thought I was a king on my throne. I learned quickly that I was simply a page, needing to understand my role and play the part. After being burned, I left Hollywood, relocated to New York, set up shop, and have since become one of the leading talent agents in the city.

My clients are on top of the world, and I simply oversee their climb. Making kings and queens behind the scenes. I'm fine with it. I'll ride that train all the way to the top of my station and rake in the money that comes along with it.

I decide to cut my losses and head home to lick my wounds instead of a random pussy.

That's when I see her.

Who the hell is that?

She’s breathtaking.

With long, blonde hair and the face of a goddess, I can’t pull my gaze away.

She flashes an infectious smile at anyone in her vicinity, and I'm fascinated. It's hard to make out the color of her eyes, but I strain to see. Searching her face, I try to determine who the beauty is but come up short, which is a great thing.

She would be the perfect distraction for the night. No strings. No expectations. No complications.

I almost groan when she turns her back on me to talk to some asshole who’s grinning down at her like a lunatic.

I should probably save her from the Jeffery Dahmer-wannabe, who's looking at her like his next meal.

I'm altruistic like that.

Her hair spills down her back, and her off-the-shoulder dress gives me a peek at her creamy skin.

I can't take my eyes off her.

This has potential.

It's not often that these sorts of events lead to options that won't impact my job. Add to that the fact I was immediately intrigued when I saw her. Typically, I'm forced to endure painful conversations with women who are so full of themselves that it takes one—or ten—drinks for me to tolerate them.

I haven't said two words to this woman, and somehow, I know it would be a fun distraction. Something to pass the time.

The question is, would she be up to the challenge?

I smirk because I know that this is a game I'm sure I can win.

No time to waste, Pax. Get your ass a-movin'.

It only takes a few long strides before I place myself in front of the idiot monopolizing her time and boring her to tears if her yawn is any indication. She needs to crane her neck to look up at me. Even with the heels she's wearing, I still tower over her.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >106

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Sinful Crown Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/sinful-crown-read-online-ava-harrison Mon, 13 Feb 2023 18:42:35 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/sinful-crown-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >104

Evil men are searching for me.
Gideon Byrne is my salvation.

Cold. Cruel. And handsome beyond measure.

He should scare me.
His possessive desire should make me run.
But I stay.

I give in to him.
I give him… me.

I’m falling in love with a monster.
And I refuse to stop.

Gideon Byrne is many things.
Predator. Enemy.
Protector. Lover.

Only one question remains…
Is he my villain or my savior?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

GIDEON

Death has never bothered me. It’s inevitable. A slice of nature. One of two guarantees in life. We’re born, and we die. They say it’s getting from point A to point B that sucks. Living that proves difficult. Well, for most.

I, for one, live pretty fucking well.

The man wedged under my loafer worms, dislodging an old ball of gum from the cement. “P-please.” Unfortunately for him, he’s about to careen headfirst into point B.

He might be dying, but I feel no pity for this man after what he did.

Whoever left him here did me a favor. He’s practically gift-wrapped.

“Can’t hear you.” I slide a pair of leather gloves up my hands. “Try harder.”

He splutters beneath me, chasing his next breath like it’s running from him. I don’t usually toy with my victims. This is a courtesy I offer as his friend.

As he nears death, it’s my duty to remind him how low he’s fallen. That he, and he alone, is responsible for his current state. If there’s a next life, I’m certain he’ll remember this moment and proceed accordingly.

I sigh, bending forward to readjust my grasp on him. “Don’t speak.”

Through a lone window on the compound’s roof, a ray of moonlight streaks across the abandoned warehouse. It offers a sliver of illumination in the stark black space. Just enough to expose pale skin and glassy eyes as the body beneath me trembles with a wet cough.

The pathetic wheeze echoes off the metal walls, slicing through the silence. A chill races up my neck. This, too, is an unfortunate byproduct of my familiarity with this man. Because I’m expected to calm him. Because I won’t do a good job. And because when I see his soul off to its next destination, I know it will be Hell. Well, that’s not certain. If I were the devil, which has often been speculated, I’d slam the gates shut on him.

“I-I…”

“Everything will be okay.” I pat his ruddy cheek, checking the Rolex on the same hand. This has gone on long enough.

Fresh crimson bubbles out of his mouth, calling me out on my lie. A distinct metallic scent punctuates the revelation. His death is a foregone conclusion. It’s only a matter of time.

His lids flutter shut. “I—” It’s all he can get out before his voice cracks. His eyes pop open, and a shadow of hesitation darts from them to me.

Roman.

His name is Roman, and he isn’t a faceless man.

I know him. I know his obsession with smash burgers and chili cheese fries. I know that he once lost half his savings on a ridiculous World Cup bet. That he followed up that loss with the utter destruction of his virginity by his bookie, of all people. A washed-up, chain-smoking former model. We share a past as colorful as a crayon box.

This singular brief moment of unease is all I gift him. His death will not be the first I witness. Or the last. Consider it a career hazard. The fruits of my life choices.

I am not a good man.

And I will never pretend to be.

The blood loss rips all focus from his gaze, leaving behind two lifeless, glazed-over orbs. Somewhere, within those dull spheres, there’s an internal battle waging. But pain robs him of whatever he wants to say. His throat bobs with a swallow.

I watch blood trickle from his wound. “If there’s something you must say, your window is closing.”

The wax-like pallor and sweat beaded on his brow betray his pain. His mouth opens and shuts several times, seeking strength to release words.

“M-my.” He coughs, spilling blood past his lips.

Sighing, I prop him up. It would be inconvenient if he choked to death before spitting out his deathbed confession. I suppose it’s the least I can do. Allow the man his final words.

Sudden determination, as hot and radiant as the sun, burns through him. “My sister.”

His what?

That’s a first. Of all the possibilities, that’s the absolute last thing I expected him to say. For starters, I didn’t even know he had a sister. If he could hide a sibling from me, what else did Roman hide?

The man isn’t trustworthy. Drug addicts never are. The cardinal rule of a drug dealer…Never test your own product. Evidently, Roman missed class the day they taught that lesson. The man enjoyed partying more than he enjoyed breathing.

Which is what brought us here.

Roman Lennox.

Bloody.

Dying.

And confessing to shit I should have known about years ago.

I lose my patience and, with it, all semblance of humanity. “Talk. Now.”

This cretin’s lies mount higher and higher by the minute. Just how many ways did he betray me? And how did I miss each and every one? It’s not like I’m a bad businessman. I’m a goddamn good one. Unrivaled.

I don’t miss shit.

Except this time, you missed an entire person.

Fuck. That.

Roman’s weak fist latches on to my dress shirt, leaving a fresh stain. “S-she’s younger. I-I let her down…they’ll come for her.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >104

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Provoke Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/provoke-read-online-ava-harrison Wed, 19 Oct 2022 22:42:38 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/provoke-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >114

The first time I met Charles Cavendish, I accidentally locked myself in a closet with him.

The second time, he became my new boss.

My very grumpy new boss.

No matter how I much I try, I can’t forget what his lips feel like.

The way his arms wrap around me.

I need to keep my distance.

But when the company lands a new account, I’m forced to work side by side with this man.

The handsome devil who makes me forget all rational thought.

But the thing about the devil is . . . he can lure even the greatest of saints.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Epigraph

Keep your face always toward the sunshine and the shadows will fall behind you

-Walt Whitman

1

Charles

“Bloody hell, Amanda. Not here,” I bark to the annoying woman who has attached herself to my hip for the evening.

Can this night get any worse?

This woman is handsy. And not in a good way.

Typically, that would be more than welcome, but tonight, I’m not feeling her.

Pity.

It’s not that she isn’t insanely beautiful. She is.

Wavy brown hair hangs to the top of her small breasts, and her toned legs go on forever. Not an inch of her is soft. She’s all hard lines and muscle.

Definitely my type.

Although, I don’t have a definitive preference when it comes to the opposite sex.

“It’s Mandy,” she croons.

I cringe at the awful sound.

Mandy is too much, and I can tell she wouldn’t be up for any of my rules.

One night. No numbers exchanged. No repeats.

I made that mistake one too many times in London, and I have no plans to repeat it here in the States. This is my clean break. My do-over.

I’m too busy for relationships and wouldn’t be good at one, even if I wasn’t constantly working.

Which I am.

Mandy has practically growled at any woman who’s looked my way, which only furthers my suspicion that she’d be clingy if I gave in to her roaming hands and took her into the offered VIP room.

I’d spend the next month dodging her advances, and I have absolutely no time for that.

“Charles,” she whines in what could quite possibly be the most ear-piercing sound I’ve experienced in some time.

I glare over her head at my supposed friend. The man responsible for this setup. He promised me top-shelf drinks, a night of relaxation, and a beautiful woman who would be more than happy with one night of sex. Complete rubbish.

He failed to say that he only knew petulant models who drink the most expensive champagne on an empty stomach and practically piss all over their target of the night. Me being said target.

He chuckles into his fist at my glare, and I manage to refrain from pummeling him.

Paxton Ramsey is an arrogant son of a bitch, but a good man. His friend, Mathis, owns the club, which he takes full advantage of regularly. He has a reserved VIP room every Wednesday night to schmooze clients. This week, there was a cancellation, and I was the lucky recipient of a night out on Pax’s dime.

“Charles, you’re ignoring me.”

My eyes close as I attempt to rein in my growing irritation with the exasperating woman. When they open, I’m met with Mandy’s green eyes piercing into me with barely restrained anger.

Perhaps this one is more than a little clingy. I’m not into the whole fatal attraction foreplay vibe that Mandy is throwing my way.

“I need to use the little girl’s room,” she says, pursing her lips.

An audible breath rushes through my chest, and Pax hears it loud and clear, if his barely restrained laughter is any indication.

Mandy doesn’t seem to notice as she swishes her hips in the most exaggerated fashion when she saunters out of the room.

“Christ, Paxton. What have you done?” His head falls back, and he bellows in laughter.

I’m sure this entire situation is quite hilarious if you’re on the outside looking in. His hand pops up as he works to get himself under control.

“I’m sorry. It’s just—” He falls forward, wheezing in glee. I’m ready to shake the amusement out of him.

“Right, then. Go on and get it all out, mate.” I smack my lips together, not amused in the slightest at his absurd reaction to my distress. “Are you quite finished?”

His head shakes back and forth. “She’s never acted like this. What can I say? You bring out the crazy in women, Cavendish.”

“This night has gone all to hell,” I say, shaking my head.

“The night’s still young, my friend. I’m happy to help you ditch Mandy. I’m tired of her moaning myself.”

“Oh, she’s whining on, all right.”

He grunts. “Alex and the guys are on their way. She has a history with him. Give me an hour, and I can have her well and truly distracted, if you know what I mean.”

“I’ll gladly vacate this room for Alex if it means being rid of her. Just tell me when.”

Sitting back in my chair, I stretch my legs and get comfortable. Our server enters, handing me another scotch on the rocks.

I tip my head in thanks, receiving a coy grin in return. This woman would no doubt be a perfect replacement for Mandy.

“Don’t even think about it,” Pax says, watching the girl leave with her empty tray tucked under her arm.

“Sod off. You have no say at this point, mate. I choose her.”

“You want to tango with Mathis? Have at it.” He takes a swig from his beer bottle. “I’m not losing my VIP status because you decided to fuck the help.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >114

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Here Lies North Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/here-lies-north-read-online-ava-harrison Wed, 10 Aug 2022 01:09:55 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/here-lies-north-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Contemporary, Romance, Suspense, Thriller Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102560 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >106

Read Online Books/Novels:	Here Lies North
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Ava Harrison
Language:	English
Book Information:
It was supposed to be an easy article about Cain Archer. Never did I think it would lead me straight into the arms of a serial killer. When the magazine I worked for sent me to write a piece on The Elysian, and the recluse architect who created it, I didn’t know what to expect. It certainly wasn’t him. He was supposed to be cold and cruel, but to me, he was intoxicating. Magnetic. And impossible to quit. The deeper I fell, the harder it became to ignore that inner voice, screaming that darkness followed Cain. I wanted to be wrong. Maybe it was all in my head. But I needed to find the answers. Nothing prepared me for what I discovered… What if the person you took into your bed isn’t at all what he seemed? What if he’s the monster you’ve been searching for?
Books by Author:	Ava Harrison

Epigraph

Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.

~ Socrates

Prologue

The Compass Killer - 2005

Evil is real.

As real as this cabin and the dirt floor we lie on in the dead of night.

The pungent taste lingers through the air.

I breathe it in. Allow it to filter into my blood.

Pulsing. Making me want to bask in it. Feed on it.

I can feel the wicked in me begging for an outlet.

Which is why I’m here, tucked away where no one would dare search for me.

The moonlight gleams off the blade in my hand, casting a stream of light across the dark room.

A flicker of a candle is all that illuminates the space.

I enjoy the shadows it creates on the aged oak walls.

The ambience relaxes me.

But it’s the body beneath me that brings me serenity. The way her chest rises and falls. Her trembles of fear that thrum through her cells.

It’s a heady aphrodisiac.

I want to bask in the atmosphere her fear incites.

Drink from her perspiration.

Live in the silence that isn’t truly silent.

“Please.”

One word. That’s all it takes for me to feel alive.

My eyes dart around the old cabin. Oh, the things this space has witnessed.

Passed down from generation to generation.

Now it’s my turn to leave a mark.

Moving closer, I hover over the woman on the floor.

The knife in my hand presses firmly on her throat.

Red bubbles to the surface as the blade pricks her delicate ivory neck.

But I can’t kill her yet.

I turn my head, looking around the room. When my gaze catches what I’m looking for, I smile.

It’s not a real smile.

It doesn’t touch my soul.

How could it?

Not when I’ve never had a soul for attaching such pathetic emotions.

“Please. You can’t kill me.”

I look back at my unwilling prey.

Spreading my lips wider.

“You should be honored.” I scoff. “I don’t pick just anyone.”

“But—”

My free hand reaches out, silencing her before she can ruin the moment.

“Shh,” I coo as I trail the blade across her throat. The pressure isn’t enough to kill her. It’s just a warning. “Be a good girl.” She shakes beneath me, biting her lip to hold back a whimper, but she doesn’t have to say it. I know she feels the pain.

Terror keeps her from speaking, and she doesn’t move to answer me as I lift my hand off her mouth. Her eyes go wide at my movement. Her pupils blown out with panic.

I watch myself in her reflection for a second. Letting her emotions fuel me. Tears fill her eyes, but they don’t fall.

Pity.

I would have liked to see her cry.

I lift the knife, and I’m met with a crimson line.

Red rivulets trickle out from the wound.

I follow the path as they collect in the hollow of her throat. I want to paint her skin in blood.

All in good time.

This isn’t about me right now.

Soon, I can drain her.

This time, when I lift the knife, I dig into her skin.

Carving the intricate pattern.

Cutting through creamy, soft flesh.

This time, she can’t hold back the cry.

It seeps up through her fragile throat.

Watching her bound and wriggling under my grasp, begging to be released, is the greatest thrill a man will ever experience. The pitch of her voice right before the blade takes a run across her throat.

That sound.

It alone will stand out to me for the rest of my days.

I will always remember this moment.

1

Layla

Seventeen years later . . .

My fingers hit the keyboard over and over again. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard. What did I do to deserve this torture?

I freaking hate this job.

Okay. I have zero excuse to say that, but I’m bored out of my mind.

I went to journalism school to be someone. To dig into the details and find the truth.

Instead, I’m writing about which faucet to buy to make your kitchen stand out.

Really?

A kitchen is for making coffee and reheating Chinese food. Or Italian. Depends on the mood I’m in. It’s most definitely my least favorite room in the apartment.

I didn’t come from a family that could cook—or bake. Hell, I came from a family that couldn’t communicate, let alone plan a meal and follow a recipe. No, I didn’t starve. But cooking for fun was not a thing either. And now, I get to write about faucets.

Doesn’t matter, though. No matter how much I bitch and moan, I still have to write this damn piece, and I shouldn’t complain. The truth is, I’m damn lucky to have this job.

Even if it’s not the one I actually want.

In my dreams as a child, never once did I imagine my life would revolve around faucets, light fixtures, and sconces. Writing about recessed lighting was definitely not what I had in mind when I took out a monster loan to go to school for journalism.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >106

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Broken Reign -Enemies-To-Lovers Romance Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/broken-reign-enemies-to-lovers-romance-read-online-ava-harrison Tue, 08 Mar 2022 20:37:31 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/broken-reign-enemies-to-lovers-romance-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Contemporary, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >110

Read Online Books/Novels:	Broken Reign - Enemies-To-Lovers Romance
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Ava Harrison
Language:	English
Book Information:
I have one goal—take down the man responsible for my parents' deaths. Until I lock eyes with a stranger across the courtroom. Tobias Kosta. Notorious billionaire. Rumored criminal. And the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Once I leave this courtroom, I hope to never see him again. But then he hires me to be his lawyer. And I’m forced deeper into his world. He’s enigmatic. Dangerous. Ignites a passion I can’t ignore. The closer I get to him, the more secrets unravel. Is he my past? My future? Or my downfall?
Books by Author:	Ava Harrison

Epigraph

The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

-Oscar Wilde

Prologue

Officer Matthews

It’s a perfect day to kill someone.

Half the force is on Waverly Street, crammed inside Chief’s rickety Nantucket home for his fiftieth birthday. Response time would be abysmal. Charlie and Rick are dozing at their desks, the only signs of life in a sea of empty chairs.

These days, I pack an extra pair of cuffs on my belt. But when I stare out the window from my cubicle, it’s quiet out. Unusually boring.

No calls. No tears. No body bags.

The type of Sunday afternoon we used to take for granted.

The type of Sunday we used to have before things started to change.

Sure, we always had crime. But before this year, the worst criminals stayed on the other side of town. Not my jurisdiction, not my fucking headache. As long as the citizens of Reddington were safe, I was golden.

But that was then, and this is now.

These days, there isn’t a single day that passes without an overdose. The drugs are inching closer and closer to the heart of town. And if word on the street is right, the war brewing down by the docks is heading this way, too.

The district attorney ran on a campaign promise that the drugs would never get to our small, quiet community. That he would stop it.

What a fucking joke.

I glance at my watch for the fourth time in twenty minutes. Two minutes left on my shift. Just as I’m about to gather my things, my desk phone rings. A blaring sound against the silence of the day.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Charlie and Rick continue to snore, unbothered by the piercing noise. I reach out to grab the phone, skimming over the mess on my desk—pens, crumbled-up paper, and even an old coffee cup cram the space.

A stack of pictures lies next to the phone. One catches my eye. It’s an image of Baros, a new drug dealer in town. For the past year, we’ve monitored his every move, an order that came down from the top.

I push the stack aside so it doesn’t topple over when I pick up the phone and grab the receiver. A booming sound interrupts me. It’s the chief, accompanied by dozens of others. They enter the room in plainclothes, speaking chaotically, eyes half-crazed. A Birthday Boy pin is still attached to Chief’s shirt, no doubt his wife’s idea.

Loud voices echo around me. I abandon the phone, peering around the space, trying to see what’s going on. A group of officers are clustered together, heads down, listening to a detective speak. It’s Mark. From homicide.

Beside me, Belinda screams for someone to answer her. Across the room, Philip sprints into the hall leading to the exit. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I’m instantly on edge.

Without another thought, I push back my chair so hard, the metal legs grate against the floor. The chair bounces back, probably leaving a dent against the wall. I don’t care.

“What’s happening?” Rick’s voice comes with a yawn. He stands, stretching his arms above his head and nudging Charlie awake. His gaze darts around, trying to see if anyone knows what’s going on.

I shake my head, adding another pair of cuffs to my belt’s collection. “I don’t know, but it’s got to be something big.”

My body finally catches up to my brain and reacts to the chaos. The next thing I know, I’m barreling toward Chief.

Something is wrong. His face looks unnaturally pale, and if that weren’t a dead giveaway, his jaw is tight.

“Chief?”

He looks at me.

A vacant stare.

“What’s going on?” I prompt.

“There is a situation . . .” he trails off, shaking his head as if he can’t comprehend what he just heard.

“What type of situation?”

But he doesn’t answer me. The room is in an uproar. People are shouting about the phone calls coming in.

I expect him to say something, but instead, he straightens. Standing up tall and steeling his spine, he scrubs at his eyes, which start to refocus, and then he walks away from me, making his way to the middle of the room where he stands in front of the crowd that has formed.

The room goes completely silent.

My spine locks.

I’m bracing myself for a shitshow.

“We’ve received dozens of reports of an explosion and screams being heard from the restaurant. Multiple eyewitnesses say it sounds like there was a hit.”

The chatter begins.

Voices rise again, firing question after question at him.

We all knew this moment was coming.

It was inevitable. But as much as we’ve been working to rid the city of the dredges of the earth, many of us working overtime to control it before it’s too late, it’s still different than knowing the first strike has been fired.

My thoughts are going a million miles per hour as I wonder where. What restaurant? Was it by the docks? Maybe the café by the apartment complex that has become overrun by addicts? But then his words come out. It sounds like a hum over the beating of my heart.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >110

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Shattered Dynasty Read Online Ava Harrison http://www.ilovenovels.com/shattered-dynasty-read-online-ava-harrison Tue, 05 Oct 2021 20:22:39 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/shattered-dynasty-read-online-ava-harrison Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Romance Authors: Ava Harrison Advertisement

Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 121946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >120

Read Online Books/Novels:	Shattered Dynasty
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Ava Harrison
Language:	English
Book Information:
Trent Aldridge is the devil. Rich. Arrogant. Sinfully handsome. He holds my inheritance in his hands. Twenty-two million dollars I didn’t even know about. I met him at a funeral. As one life ended, mine unraveled. Because he has one goal—to ruin me. And Trent Aldridge never loses. My present is gone and my future is in ashes. All because of a past that's not even mine. Control. Power. He has it all now that I'm his maid. He’s rude, sarcastic, and well…the hottest man I’ve ever met. Lust is a dangerous game to play. Where there's smoke, there's fire. And I’m about to be consumed.
Books by Author:	Ava Harrison

Epigraph

“I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become.”

- Carl Jung

Prologue

Trent

My fingers drum against the surface of the desk. The sound echoes throughout the space, low and steady. A peaceful rhythm at this hour of the day.

It’s quiet this morning. Dark, ominous skies loom outside my large windows overlooking New York City.

I’m the first person here.

Not unusual, though.

I do a lot of my business overseas, so naturally, I am always ready to work when the UK market opens.

Despite the time, the phone on my desk rings. The tone is a blaring contrast to the surrounding silence.

Its shrill sound reminds me of a fire alarm that takes you by surprise.

Without my assistant here, I’ll have to answer. That’s the only way to be sure it’s not a business emergency. Few people know I get here this early.

Only my most important clients.

And family.

Still knowing this, I don’t answer.

It stops ringing for a brief second, only to start up again.

Must be important.

Letting out a sigh, I grab my office phone.

“Speak,” I respond.

“Mr. Aldridge.”

“This is.”

“Hi, Mr. Aldridge. This is Larry Baker, your father’s attorney.”

“Not interested.”

I lean forward in my chair, about to hang up when he continues. “If I could have a minute of your—”

“No, you may not.”

Nothing my father could say would warrant having a conversation with him. After what he did to my family, he’s lucky I haven’t put a hit out on his ass. His days are limited, though. My dad isn’t cut out for jail. Orange is not the new black for that man. I have no doubt that he is currently trying to figure a way out.

Either by appeal or a prison escape.

Knowing the type of men he used to be associated with, neither would surprise me.

Because if he doesn’t get out of there, it’s just a matter of time before he gets himself killed.

He has too many enemies.

The Russian mafia wants him dead.

Cyrus Reed wants his head.

And I can’t think of a better way to spend my day than at his funeral.

How the hell has he lasted this long?

“Your father called me yesterday, frantic. He wishes to see you,” the sleazebag drawls out. I have never met the guy, but anyone who would represent my father has to be the scum of the earth.

“I don’t give a crap what he wants,” I hiss.

“Please—”

I hang up the phone . . . okay, more like slam it back down onto the receiver.

No matter how often this guy calls me for my father, I have nothing to say to the ass. Moving forward, I’ll screen my calls better.

My dad lost the privilege to speak to me when he tried to sell my sister off in a game of high-stakes poker.

There’s no coming back from what he did.

No apologies. No actions could ever make it okay.

There will be no redemption for him. No amount of money is worth his unforgivable sin. The bastard should have offered his own life first.

I’ll never understand how he could do it. Not just how he could leverage and lose all our assets. No. That’s just money, and in the grand scheme of life, that doesn’t matter. The part that keeps me up at night is how the hell he could do what he did to my sister. He put Ivy on the chopping block. How was that even an option in his head?

But it doesn’t matter because that man, my father, died that day. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t had a father in the past two years. I haven’t spoken to him since we had him arrested.

The “we” being myself and Cyrus Reed. My brother-in-law. His associates helped, too. Men who’ve become my clients.

We didn’t give the bastard any warning. Stacked evidence of his crimes like they were bricks, and we were looking to build him a new home in hell. We ruined him.

It’ll be a hundred fucking years before he takes a step as a free man unless he pulls strings, which we’ve made nearly impossible. Stripped away any power he possessed—and his willpower in the process.

If by some miracle he manages to get out, we will be here waiting for him. Waiting to strike him down like the scum he is.

The phone rings again.

I ignore it.

A part of me wonders if he is reaching out to me to help him on his quest. He can try all he wants. I wouldn’t help him if the fate of the world laid in his hands. So, regardless of whatever bullshit he intends on spewing, my father is dead to me.

Fine by me.

Swiveling my chair to face the windows, I stare outside.

At five o’clock in the morning, darkness still bathes the city.

The only lights that illuminate the sky comes from the buildings. There are no stars.

Which throws my mind into high gear. Why would my father’s lawyer call me this early? The thought weasels past my barriers before I can stop it.

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