Zoe Blake – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Zoe Blake – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Wed, 20 May 2026 17:51:55 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0.2 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Zoe Blake – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 My Sweet Poison Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.ilovenovels.com/my-sweet-poison-read-online-zoe-blake Wed, 20 May 2026 17:51:55 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/my-sweet-poison-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >87

No one is innocent.

We were meant to be collateral damage.
We became their obsession instead.

Pierce Worthington needed someone to blame. I was convenient.
When his brother dies in a scandalous wreck, threatening to drag the Worthington name through the filth, Pierce does what his family has always done.
He finds a sacrificial lamb. Me.

With a single phone call, he has me arrested for murder.
With a single glance, he decides prison is no longer enough.
He doesn't just want me punished.
He wants me desperate. Dependent.
Owned by the man who holds my freedom between his teeth.

But I'm not the only woman caught in a monster's game.

Greyson Stockford knows where the bodies are buried because he put them there.
When my best friend gets too close to the truth, he doesn't threaten her. He takes her.
Locks her away where no one can hear her scream or fight back.
Because breaking her will is only the beginning.
Making her crave the man who destroyed her life? That's the real torture.

Two ruthless billionaires.
Two women who refuse to be broken.
Nothing is as it seems.
No one is innocent.
And the most treacherous enemy may be the one sharing your bed.

My Sweet Poison is a standalone Gothic billionaire dark romance featuring enemies-to-obsession, forced proximity, and heroines who resist the men determined to own them

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

CHAPTER 1

MADISON

No one could hear my screams.

I swept my arm along a polished sideboard, sending a priceless Ming vase and several gold candlesticks tumbling into his path as I dove for the staircase.

“Get away from me!”

My right foot slipped off the edge and bent at an awkward angle, snapping the platform heel off my shoe, my forearms painfully breaking my fall when they collided with the lower step.

Strong fingers wrapped around my ankle and wrenched me downward.

I shrieked and grasped at the spindles of the banister, but the dust-covered wood slipped through my fingers.

My palms burned from the scrape of my hands along the thick wool carpet covering the stairs as he dragged me down, my dress sliding up around my waist. I desperately kicked out with my other leg, trying to dislodge his hold.

He flipped me onto my back, the hard edge of a stair slamming into my spine, and propped his forearms on either side of my head, prowling over me like a lion about to tear out the throat of his kill.

Rubbing his face along the edge of my hairline, he inhaled deeply before rasping against my ear, “I missed this little game of ours, Madison.”

A low growl vibrated in his throat, and he shoved his hand between my legs. “Remember how I would make you cry?”

Remember? No amount of time would erase the memory of his cruel touch.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I turned my head to the side and dug my fingernails into his shirt, trying to shove his weight away from me.

He swept his tongue over my cheek. “I did so love the taste of your tears.”

Bile burned the back of my throat as my stomach heaved. Everything clenched inward. My body folding into itself the way it always had.

The way it used to around him.

I winced as he tore at my panties. “I never did get a chance to fuck you. Doesn’t seem right given all the trouble you’ve caused. If you’re a good girl and spread your legs, I might show you mercy and kill you quickly.”

I couldn’t let this happen. Not now. Not after how hard I fought to survive him and his⁠—

Forcing my eyes open, my gaze fell on a broken vase shard that had fallen within reach. Distracted by lowering his zipper, he didn’t notice me sweep my arm out, reaching for the modified weapon.

I turned the piece of porcelain in my hand until the sharp edge was facing outward. Picking my moment, I swung my arm out, catching him on the side of his face.

He screamed and clutched his cheek, blood welling and dripping between his fingers.

His body pitched sideways.

I forced him off me and turned onto my stomach. As fast as I could, I gathered my skirt up above my knees and crawled to the quarter landing. Gripping the open jaws of the grotesque wood-carved gargoyle newel post, I hauled myself upright. Holding my breath, I shifted my hips, putting weight on my right leg. My ankle held, it wasn’t broken.

I tore off both shoes and stared down into the darkness, searching for his form. The air in the sealed wing was bitter cold, carrying the musty staleness of dust and old wool. Below, a sheet-draped grandfather clock loomed and for one horrible second my heart stopped before I realized it wasn't him.

On the other side of the massive estate house, the safety of the ballroom beckoned. Filled with the clink of glasses and surrounded by the sweet scents of fresh-cut flowers and the warm buttery pastry of passed canapes as the strains of the violins from the orchestra rose above the chatter of the guests. All of it—just out of reach.

My gaze scanned for any signs of movement while I strained to hear the creak of a floorboard or the crunch from a shard of porcelain being crushed beneath his shoe.

Where was he?

After his initial outcry, he had gone eerily quiet.

There!

My heart seized.

A trick of the light?

No.

A shadow detached from the gloom below.

“Did you really think you’d get away with it, Madison?”

The ghostly voice held a hint of amusement layered with arrogant reprimand.

I pressed my hand over my mouth to suppress a whimper of fear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out what you were planning?”

My feet were silent on the thick carpet as I shifted deeper into the shadows above him. Digging my nails into the gargoyle, I slid behind its protective bulk, as if the dragon would somehow spring to life and rescue me.

With narrowed eyes, I peered down the staircase into the vast entryway but could only make out the indistinct shapes of the chairs which lined the walls, and the empty round table in the center.

The stained glass window over my shoulder depicting a vengeful St. George fractured the wan light of the moon. Instead of casting bright jewel-toned light, it spread a mottled crimson stain of red and burnt orange along the floor. When he stepped into the distorted pool of light, it twisted his features into a misshapen, grotesque mask of a man.

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Captive Prize – Ivanov Crime Family Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.ilovenovels.com/captive-prize-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:54:34 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/captive-prize-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

She stole what belongs to me. Now I'll take everything from her.

A problem I need to fix. A war I need to win. A woman I can't afford to desire.

Her fatal mistake? Taking an Ivanov.

My cousin is missing, his pregnant wife left for dead.

The guilt is a noose around my neck, tightening with every second he's gone.

I was never fully Ivanov—half Russian, half Cuban, never enough.

But this time, I'll prove myself.

I'll infiltrate Los Infidels. Find Pavel. And kidnap the fierce mafia princess responsible.

She fights me with every breath—clawing, cursing, daring me to shatter her completely.

The real problem?

I don't just want to break her. I want to possess her.

Hate bleeds into hunger. Revenge twists into obsession.

Suddenly, our war isn't about family loyalty, it's about dominance.

She won't bow.

I refuse to yield.

One of us must fall.

And I never lose.

The final Ivanov has arrived…and he’s the most dangerous of them all. This is the explosive conclusion to the four-book Ivanov Crime Family expansion—a world where power is deadly, passion is obsession, and once an Ivanov claims you, there’s no way out.

Are you ready for Roman? Scroll up and one click

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

CHAPTER 1

ROMAN

The broken guardrail loomed in front of me half a second too late.

Rain blurred the glowing red taillights below, but I already knew.

I was too late.

The tires screamed as I wrenched the wheel, skidding sideways to the edge of the ditch.

Mud sprayed up as I slammed the brakes, threw the car into Park, and jumped out before the engine even finished coughing.

My boots hit the ground hard, gravel scattering underfoot.

The reek of oil and burning rubber still hung in the air.

A black Range Rover—Pavel’s car—lay at the base of the embankment.

Given the damage to the scrub brush and trees, it was clear how it rolled on its way down; I could picture it flipped on its roof like a beetle trapped on its back near the bottom before taking one slow, final roll and settling into place with a groan of crumpled metal.

One amber turn signal still blinked, pathetic and slow.

The driver’s side door hung open at an awkward angle. The driver’s seat empty. “Pavel!” I shouted, drawing my gun and sprinting through the rain-slick brush. No answer. Only the hiss of rain and the metallic tang of blood in the air.

So I ran, half-sliding in the wet leaves to get to the heap of twisted metal and shattered glass. “Pavel!” I yelled again. Nothing but crippling silence.

I cocked my head.

No more than a hundred yards away, from the other side of the road…

Came the deep, mechanical whirr of spinning turbine engines, the power behind them building as they got closer. The telltale thump-thump-thump of rotor blades slicing through the air.

Distant at first, then gradually gaining in volume, joined by the wet slapping of rain flung from the blades as every single pass got louder and louder.

A helicopter.

They were landing. They were still here.

With a quick thanks to whatever god or devil hadn’t forsaken me yet, I ran. I kept low as I moved through the trees, searching for the bastards who kidnapped Pavel.

It only took me a few minutes to make my way to the clearing where they had landed.

I was still too late.

Pavel’s body lay limp on the back cargo ramp.

The last of the men dressed in solid black military-grade gear were climbing into the back as the blades spun faster—ready again for takeoff.

I raised my gun and fired.

Over the roar of the rain and helicopter blades, I could hear their shouts in Spanish as they returned fire. My intel had been correct. It was definitely the Colombians.

I killed two before they took cover. More fired back, screaming at the pilot to take off.

I didn’t stop.

I took cover behind a tree as I lined up every shot and hit at least two more of them. It wasn’t enough.

I needed to hit the pilot.

If the pilot was dead, the helicopter couldn’t take off and I could kill the rest of them and retrieve Pavel.

The others would clean up the mess. I would’ve done my job and protected my cousin. Once he was home, the entire family would plan our revenge and make an example of the motherfuckers who thought they could hit the Ivanovs and live.

I circled, staying low, every shot measured. Calculated. When I got to the front, I aimed at the pilot, ready to fire—until she turned around and the most intense green eyes stared back at me.

A woman.

My heart stopped as I stared at her.

I didn’t shoot women.

Ivanov men did not kill women unless it was absolutely necessary.

There was always another way.

Under the circumstances, her death would have been warranted, but she caught me off guard long enough that I hesitated.

I had never hesitated before.

But I had also never seen eyes so green they seemed to look right through me.

I was frozen.

Stuck in place long enough for her to whip out a pistol of her own and start shooting.

I dodged behind a rock and exchanged gunfire. Intending to wound, but not kill, her.

The helicopter lifted, and then disappeared into the black abyss, taking my cousin—and those otherworldly emerald eyes—with it.

I turned and sprinted back toward the wreck.

Perhaps there was something, anything, that could give me more clues to help me find them.

As I got closer, there was movement in the passenger seat.

Christ. Pavel’s wife, Alina.

It hadn’t occurred to me to check for her in the car.

I’d been so focused…Dammit.

If I’d risked her life to save Pavel’s he’d never forgive me.

Her safety came first. Always.

The moment I approached the vehicle her eyes tracked me—barely. And in them there was the unmistakable glare of fear and panic.

“Who are you?” she rasped, pressing herself back into the passenger seat.

“I’m Roman, Pavel’s cousin.”

My eyes swept over the crushed car, then over her, cataloging injuries with clinical precision before locking onto hers. “Where did they take him?”

She pointed toward where they’d disappeared.

“Do you know who they were?”

She shook her head. “You have to get him back. He’s going to be a father. I need him back. I can't do this without him.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

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Sinister Promise – Ivanov Crime Family Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.ilovenovels.com/sinister-promise-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Mon, 30 Jun 2025 19:07:15 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/sinister-promise-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >88

The only thing more dangerous than what she witnessed…is me.
She was supposed to be a problem—one I would deal with, forget, erase.
Instead, she became my obsession.
A hotel maid drowning in her father's debts, working among killers and Bratva bosses, believing silence would keep her safe.
Then she saw something she shouldn't.
She should have run. Should have screamed. Should have begged.
Instead, she held my gaze, defiant and unbroken.
Now, I can't let her go.
The only way to keep her alive is to make her mine—a marriage that will satisfy Bratva law and place her firmly under my control.
What I offer isn't protection…it's possession.
She fights me with every breath, her body betraying her with each trembling response to my touch.
Her eyes promise escape while her pulse races beneath my fingers.
She swears she'll never belong to me, not understanding that her resistance only fuels my determination.
Every whispered threat. Every stolen kiss. Every brutal promise draws her deeper into my world.
Because I don't just want to own her.
I want to break her. Then claim her completely.
And I always get what I want.

Enter the brutal, intoxicating world of the Ivanov Crime Family, where power is seized, love is obsession, and enemies don’t live to tell their stories. Meet the next Konstantine, Artem, Pavel, and Roman. Russian cousins raised in violence, shaped by loyalty, and willing to burn the world down for what’s theirs.

This is just the beginning—four new books, four dangerously irresistible men, and one relentless, dark descent.
Are you ready to surrender? Scroll up and one click now

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

CHAPTER 1

ALINA

Iflattened my back against the wall, shrinking into the shadows.

He was here.

Pavel Ivanov.

His very name a threat.

He was the kind of man whispered about in the back rooms of bars but never spoken about above a hush. As if saying his name too loudly would summon the devil himself.

Dangerous. Unhinged. Mafia.

The kind of man women craved for a forbidden one-night stand, an encounter that would haunt their fantasies forever…assuming they survived…but would run screaming from when it came to boyfriend material.

When he first arrived from Russia, he was all my coworkers would gossip about.

They would relate stories about passing him in a hallway, or being trapped in an elevator with him, as if they had survived a brush with death.

I'd kept my mouth shut about my own run-in with him.

It'd happened the first week he arrived.

I was supposed to be alone on that office floor. Just me, my vacuum, the fake lemon scent of furniture polish, and the rhythmic hum of music through my headphones to keep me company through another night of cleaning the lower offices and meeting spaces in the boutique hotel.

After I'd accidentally knocked over a trash can with the cord of my vacuum cleaner, I’d been on my hands and knees picking up the thin strips of shredded paper that had tumbled out, sneezing from all the kicked-up paper dust, when a low male rumble said, "Bud' zdorova."

I froze.

It was him. I knew it without even looking.

I held my breath, keeping my head down, hoping—praying—he would just walk away.

He didn’t.

The excruciating silence warred with the panicked screeches in my mind.

When I couldn’t take the tension a moment longer, I dared to look.

Slowly, my gaze traveled from the tips of his black combat boots up over his dark denim jeans to his fitted black T-shirt, which showcased his full sleeve-tattooed arms.

The man was nothing but raw brutality wrapped in sinister ink.

The tattoos crept up his neck in intricate patterns and were even etched across his face. Everyone knew that anyone with face tattoos was someone to be feared and avoided at all costs. It was the ultimate zero-fucks-given power move.

Pavel Ivanov stood over me, his intense, gunmetal stare holding the cold calculation of a man who had earned his reputation for seizing what he wanted without hesitation or remorse.

When I’d heard my coworkers’ stories about him, I’d honestly thought it was just Russian. Nope. His intimidating presence alone was a warning, without him even having to speak.

Of course, the terrifying-Russian-thing didn’t hurt.

I knew too well what men like him were capable of.

Learning the harsh lesson from the time I was a child: that money and power didn't make a man civilized.

The only trace of warmth about Pavel was his amused grin as he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest. There was no way to tell how long he had been there.

I’d known better than to look. To see. To know.

When I was hired, my boss had been very clear about the rules.

See nothing.

Say nothing.

Hear nothing.

The man had actually pointed to one of those silly monkey sculptures on his desk to reinforce what he was saying.

Judging by the criminal clientele in the building, what my boss had really meant to convey was…

See no evil.

Say no evil.

Hear no evil.

Literally…

It was why this job paid twice as much as similar positions everywhere else.

Crime paid.

They paid for discretion. For blind silence.

My job, as part of the overnight crew, wasn't just to clean.

It was to keep my head down and my mouth shut.

Usually that wasn't a problem.

Until that moment.

Not knowing what to do, I'd squeaked out a weak “thank you” before turning on my knees to shove the fistfuls of paper I was still clutching into my trash bag so I could get the hell out of there.

I’d realized my mistake when the silence in the room was pierced by the sharp intake of breath through his teeth.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind he was enjoying the view of my bent-over ass in yoga pants.

I closed my eyes as embarrassed agony warmed my cheeks.

Scrambling to my feet, I latched onto my cleaning cart and lowered my head, determined to slip past him.

No such luck.

He’d stretched his arm across the door, barring my escape. Then his free hand had caught my chin, forcing my face up to meet his. "What is your name, little one?"

The thick Russian accent had made his question sound more like the growl of a black bear despite the highly inappropriate endearment. His touch had burned against my skin, unwanted heat spreading through me even as fear tightened within me.

I’d swallowed hard as my hands grew slick against the plastic handle of my cart. Clearing my throat, I told him, "Mary."

A lie.

Before he could respond, I'd shoved the cart forward and ducked under his arm, breaking the spell of his touch. The cleaning cart clattered as I’d sprinted down the hall, praying with every fiber of my being that he wouldn't follow.

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Twisted Proposal – Ivanov Crime Family Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.ilovenovels.com/twisted-proposal-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Wed, 04 Jun 2025 21:19:06 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/twisted-proposal-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Insta-Love, Mafia Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >103

I'm not the hero in this story—I'm the monster who claimed what wasn't his to take.

I was supposed to sell her to the highest bidder, a marriage that would seal alliances and strengthen her family's power.

But seeing her bloodied and defiant changed everything.

Her father and brother thought they could use her as a pawn.

They didn't realize I was playing a different game entirely.

I destroyed them all, leaving her seemingly free—only to chain her to me instead.

She thinks she can escape, build a normal life away from the violence she was born into.

She doesn't understand that what I protect, I possess completely.

And now, she's mine.

The problem?

She fights me with every breath, refusing to be anyone's property…especially mine.

Her fierce defiance only makes me want her more.

What she doesn't know is that her freedom required blood payment, and that debt is coming due.

As enemies close in, threatening what's mine, my decision is final.

She will be my wife.

She will wear my mark.

She will surrender to me completely.

Even if I have to break her first.

Welcome back to the ruthless world of the Ivanov Crime Family, where power is everything, love is a dangerous game, and mercy is a weakness. The next generation has arrived—Konstantine, Artem, Pavel, and Roman—Russian cousins forged in blood and bound by loyalty. They’re darker, deadlier, and more relentless than ever.

This is just the beginning—four new books, four ruthless Ivanov men, and one unforgettable ride.
Are you ready to be claimed? Scroll up and one click now

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

CHAPTER 1

ARTEM

I knew taking this meeting was a mistake the moment I agreed to it.

Zaitsev had been relentless, hounding me for days, desperate for a deal.

That alone set my teeth on edge.

Desperate men made reckless decisions.

And Zaitsev? He was a fool. Brash, impulsive, lacking the foresight needed to survive in our world. And his son, Matvey, was even worse.

When I pulled up to the isolated cabin nestled deep in the Virginia woods, my instincts screamed danger. It was too remote, too perfect for an ambush.

My men swept the perimeter while I waited in the Range Rover, my patience wearing thinner with each passing minute.

"Clear," one of my men murmured through my earpiece.

I stepped out into the biting winter air, snow crunching beneath my boots. The cabin loomed before me, its windows glowing with warm light that promised a comfort I knew wouldn't be found inside.

When I pushed open the heavy wooden door, the stench of fear hit me first.

Then I saw her.

Huddled on a weathered wooden chair in the center of the room, her head bowed, lush, chestnut brown hair spilling over her shoulders, hiding her face. Ropes cut into her wrists, binding her, but there was no mistaking the tension in her shoulders.

Fury burned through me, sharp and immediate.

My fingers twitched with the need to curl into a fist.

Zaitsev emerged from the shadows, his son lurking behind him like the coward he was. Both men grinned as if they'd presented me with a gift rather than a twisted indecency.

In my world, women were protected and sheltered from the brutal reality of our business.

"Artem, my friend." He stretched out a hand in greeting.

"We are not friends." I pointedly ignored his outstretched hand. "And I don't recall giving you permission to use my given name."

He hesitated, his son shifting uneasily behind him.

The air in the cabin grew thick with tension.

My men flanked the doorway, blocking any chance of escape.

A small sound came from the woman—not a cry or a whimper.

Just a sharp inhale of barely restrained pain.

My fury sharpened to a lethal edge.

I met Zaitsev's eyes; he was going to see the moment I decided he wasn't leaving this cabin alive.

"We had to secure our merchandise." He gave a dismissive wave, dropping into a chair opposite his captive. "She can be…stubborn. Nothing a firm hand won’t fix.”

My gaze remained fixed on the woman bound in the chair.

I let the silence stretch like a stranglehold around his throat.

Zaitsev mistook it for patience. A deadly mistake.

He smirked. "I'll get right to the point, then. I know you're making moves in the States."

He thought he knew something. Amusing.

"You shouldn't put stock in rumors," I said flatly. "Your men must be bored if they've taken to gossip."

Zaitsev chuckled, like we were old friends sharing an inside joke. "A shift in power is coming." He stood and circled the woman, placing his hands on her shoulders. She flinched. The small movement ignited something dark inside me. "This is my daughter."

A muscle in my jaw twitched.

Daughter.

I glanced at her, then back at him, my face unreadable.

What kind of man tied up his own flesh and blood?

"I'd rather not have her running wild, like these American women," he continued, oblivious to my growing rage. "She could be useful."

Useful.

The word curdled in my gut.

"She's not much to look at," he added, waving a hand like she was a piece of livestock. “But she'll make a good wife. Quiet. Won't ask questions. Won't expect fidelity." He grinned and winked. "And, of course, this marriage would come with certain advantages."

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Fierce Pursuit – Ivanov Crime Family Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.ilovenovels.com/fierce-pursuit-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Mon, 21 Apr 2025 22:19:24 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/fierce-pursuit-ivanov-crime-family-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Dark, Mafia, Taboo, Virgin Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >94

I'm the only one standing between her and those who want her dead.
I was married to her sister—a woman who died in the crossfire of my Russian mafia world.
To her, I'm nothing but a monster with blood-stained hands.
She doesn't see they're the same hands keeping her alive.
She's fled from me repeatedly, each escape bringing her closer to the enemies hunting us both.
The hatred burning in her eyes only matches the forbidden heat igniting between us.
The rival bratva won't stop until she's eliminated.
My solution? Make her mine—a marriage placing her untouchably under my protection.
She fights me at every turn, fierce and beautiful in her rage, blaming me for her sister's death and her shattered life.
She can't know the truth, that her sister's death wasn't collateral damage but punishment for betrayal.
As danger closes in, I'm torn between my vow and the desperate hunger that consumes me whenever she's near.
When an ambush leaves her bleeding in my arms, everything changes.
This marriage isn't negotiable anymore.
She'll wear my ring and bear my name.
She'll be mine, even if I have to break her to keep her.

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

CHAPTER 1

MARINA

The moment I saw him, my world crashed around me.

Konstantine. My brother-in-law…and my sister’s killer.

The diner’s fluorescent lights flickered, casting a dull glow over red leather booths and the cracked linoleum floor, but all I could see was him from where I stood staring through the crack between the two kitchen doors.

Sitting at the farthest table, back to the wall, piercing blue eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing his surroundings.

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

How?

I had been so careful.

No credit cards.

No social media.

I’d stayed in my lane, kept my head down, worked this dead-end job just to survive.

And yet, he was here.

He had found me.

Panic clawed at my chest, but I fought to keep my expression neutral. The last thing I needed was to alert the rest of the staff there was an issue. They would ask questions I couldn’t answer. My fingers clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms, the slight pain grounding me as I abandoned my post at the kitchen doors and returned to the plate of fries I no longer wanted.

“Oh my God, Marina! He is so freaking hot!”

Anna’s shriek made me flinch, bringing me back to the moment.

I snapped my gaze to her as she pushed through the kitchen doors, a whirlwind of neon-pink nails and endless energy weaving past the cooks.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t understand that the man she was ogling was the reason my sister was dead.

I forced a fry into her hand, hoping the simple act would shut her up and give me a second to think. But Anna was relentless, bouncing with excitement.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, taking a seat across from me at the tiny break table. “I mean, Marina, seriously, why didn’t you tell me you were dating the hottest man in Chicago?”

“I’m not,” I said automatically, barely registering her words.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.

Anna scoffed. “Then why did he ask for your section?”

She grabbed my wrist and yanked me up before I could protest, dragging me toward the doors leading to the dining area. “Girl, if you’re not dating him, can I have him? Because that man is sex on a stick. I tried everything—flirty eyes, lip biting, even the cleavage lean, and he didn’t even blink. He only wanted you.”

I barely heard her.

My vision tunneled as I peered through the crack between the doors.

He hadn’t changed.

Konstantine Nikolai Ivanov, Kostya to his friends, of which there were few, still looked devastatingly handsome in that cold, lethal way that made people both fear and respect him.

Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, dark hair just long enough for a woman to sink her fingers into. He had been intimidating even before he married my sister, before he became a name whispered in the dark corners of Russia.

And now he was here.

For me.

Anna’s voice broke through my spiral. “So, who is that? Does he have a brother?”

“He does,” I murmured, my throat dry as dust. “Two. But they’re not your type.”

“Damn.” She sighed, oblivious to the way my body was locked up in sheer terror. “So he’s yours, then?”

“No,” I whispered. “He’s my brother-in-law.”

Anna blinked. “Wait, what? You never told me you had a sister who was married to a freaking Russian god.”

I swallowed hard. My hands trembled at my sides, but I kept my face carefully blank. “She’s dead.”

“Oh,” Anna said, her enthusiasm temporarily dimming. “Car accident?”

I forced myself to nod. “Something like that.”

The words tasted like acid.

I couldn’t say it, not out loud.

That he had killed her.

That my sister’s blood was on his hands.

That if I didn’t leave right now, mine would be too.

Anna kept talking, something about how a man like that had to be ready to move on. But I couldn’t hear her anymore.

All I heard was the blood rushing in my ears.

I had to get the hell out of here.

He hadn’t seen me yet.

That was the only advantage I had.

If I ran now, I might have a chance.

But I needed a distraction.

Forcing my lips into what I hoped was a convincing smile, I turned to Anna. “Actually, do me a favor? Go talk to him for me. Tell him I haven’t come in for my shift yet. Get his drink order, maybe flirt a little.”

Anna’s eyes lit up. “Girl, you do not have to ask me twice.” She fluffed her hair, adjusted her bra, and strutted out into the dining room.

The moment she had his attention, I turned and bolted.

I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Babushka, the owner, who had been so kind to me.

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was getting out before Konstantine saw me.

Because if he did…I was dead.

CHAPTER 2

KONSTANTINE

Six months earlier

Veronika's blood stained my hands.

It pooled beneath her, a crimson tide creeping across the marble, violating the pristine white of her dress. The metallic scent of it burned my nostrils, a sickening reminder of my failure. Her ragged breathing scraped through the silence, each desperate exhale weaker than the last, a death rattle counting down the seconds.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >94

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Sinfully His – Gilded Decadence Read Online Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley http://www.ilovenovels.com/sinfully-his-gilded-decadence-read-online-zoe-blake-alta-hensley Thu, 21 Nov 2024 13:35:26 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/sinfully-his-gilded-decadence-read-online-zoe-blake-alta-hensley Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Forbidden, Taboo Authors: Alta Hensley, Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >101

He’s a fallen priest with dark secrets, and I’m the key to his revenge.

I never thought a simple walk in New York City would lead me into the shadows of a sinister game.
One moment, I'm fighting off attackers in a dark alley, and the next, I'm saved by a mysterious stranger.

He drags me into a darkened building, his grip both protective and possessive.
I should feel safe, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something dangerous lurking beneath his surface.

Imagine my shock when I discover my rescuer is none other than Thomas Manwarring, the notorious prodigal son of the Manwarring dynasty, returned from Rome under a shroud of scandal.

His every move is calculated, every glance a mix of fury and fascination.
I don’t understand why he saved me or why he seems so fixated on me, but I know one thing for his intentions are far from pure.

He watches me, studying every move, every breath.
I feel like he’s waiting for something—for me to fall into his trap—for me to trust him just enough.
But I’m not as naive as he thinks.

I’ll play along, but I’ll also fight back.
Navigating his maze of shadows and deception, I won’t be another pawn in his game.

Beneath the glittering surface of high society, lies a world of forbidden lust and dangerous secrets. Journey into a realm of deception and desire in this thrilling series by USAT Bestselling authors Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley.

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

CHAPTER 1

ROSE

The footsteps were getting closer.

Sharp scrapes from boot heels against the sidewalk echoed down the oddly empty side street.

My gaze traveled over the tall buildings overhead with their unblinking eyes. On the other side of each lit window was a stranger who wouldn’t give two shits if I screamed for help.

Welcome to New York.

City of culture and excitement, with a constant frisson of energy coursing through its densely packed streets that could only come from the forced melding of countless different viewpoints, beliefs and backgrounds.

Also, the city of not-my-fucking problem.

As always, a thrill tickled up my spine whenever I cursed, even if it was only silently in my head, knowing how pissed off my mother would be to know I was even thinking about the word… shit. And… fuck.

Nice girls who were future obedient wives of important empire-building CEOs did not have filthy mouths. Or so I had been told my entire freaking life.

Another scratch of leather against cement brought me back to the current danger.

This was silly.

It might not be a crowded street, but I was still on a public street in the busiest city in the world. Practically within view of a church.

I was just being neurotic. Whoever was behind me was probably on their cell phone completely unaware of how they were creeping me the fuck out.

I clutched the box of glass ornaments more tightly to my chest as goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chilly October night rose on my arms.

Now I just needed to convince my freaking-out body, which seemed to react with all the primal instincts of a rabbit in an open field, that I was overreacting and there was nothing to be so afraid of.

Yes, the steps behind me seemed to follow.

Yes, it was getting dark, and I was all alone.

But dammit, I was a perfectly capable twenty-two-year-old college graduate. An adult, even if my family rarely treated me as one. I could handle this.

Swallowing past the lump of fear in my throat, I watched the shifting shadows play across the cinder block walls of the building to my right, to gauge how many men were behind me… and how close they were. As if the distorted shapes would reveal their owners’ intentions.

When our family’s usual driver was replaced by a stranger with a deep Irish brogue, I didn’t think it was strange at the time. My mother had a way of chasing off even the most career-hardened staff members.

And when the man claimed to have gotten lost on his way to St. Thaddeus church, despite it being one of the most recognizable cathedrals in New York, it was a minor inconvenience to get out of the car and walk the final three blocks.

I really wasn’t one to complain… again, because my mother did enough of that for our entire family. As a result, I usually went out of my way to not say anything contrary.

Always the dutiful daughter, that was me. Sigh.

Hindsight being twenty-twenty, I was seriously second-guessing the decision of letting the driver off the hook and leaving the safety of the car for this stupid errand my mother had me running.

With her reputation in tatters from all the manipulative, extremely shady things she had done recently in the name of family—although really just out of pure greed—my mother, Mary Quinn Astrid, was going all out for this year’s church charity bazaar.

She was determined to show the world what a generous and kind person she was—even if she had to lie and cheat to do it.

Like telling the organizing committee composed of mostly high society matrons from the best families in New York that she was donating a box of extremely rare family heirloom Christmas ornaments from England that had been in our family since Queen Victoria’s beloved Prince Albert introduced the Christmas tree to British society.

What a load of crap.

She’d sent the maid to scrounge through thrift stores in Brooklyn for them. Not even bothering to lend her our car and driver but making the poor girl take the subway from Manhattan.

I adjusted my grip on the heavy box, having a small appreciation for what the maid went through as I carefully stepped around a raised crack in the sidewalk and walked the last way to the dimly lit church.

Several of my close female friends had been targets of violence recently due, not only to my mother’s nefarious actions, but to our connection through marriage to the Manwarrings and their growing feud with the Irish mafia.

Something I, of course, was not supposed to know anything about as the sheltered, heiress daughter of the exalted—at least in their own minds—Astrid family of both New York and England.

The soft glow of the church’s stained glass windows was within view.

Only a few more steps and I…

A gloved hand covered my mouth.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >101

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Sweet Animosity – Ruthless Obsession Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.ilovenovels.com/sweet-animosity-ruthless-obsession-read-online-zoe-blake Wed, 07 Aug 2024 09:50:10 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/sweet-animosity-ruthless-obsession-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Mafia Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

I never asked for an assistant, and if I had, I definitely would not have chosen her.
With her sharp tongue and lack of discipline, what she needs is a firm hand, not a job. The more she tests my limits, the more tempted I am to bend her over my knee.
As a Russian Mafia boss and owner of Chicago's most elite gambling club, I can't afford distractions from her antics.
Or her secrets.
For I suspect, my innocent new assistant is hiding something.
And I know just how to get to the truth.
It's high time she understands who holds the power in our relationship.
To ensure I get what I desire, I'll keep her close, controlling her every move.
Except I am no longer after information—I want her mind, body and soul.
She underestimated the stakes of our dangerous game and now owes a heavy price. She's mine now.
Mine.
Sweet Animosity continues the steamy, enemies to lovers' drama featuring the domineering Russian Mafia men of Zoe's Ruthless Obsession series. Scroll up and one click now.

Publisher's This is the eighth novel, and part of a new trilogy, in Zoe Blake's Ruthless Obsession series. It is a standalone that contains adult themes. Please refrain from purchasing if such content is not to your liking.

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

CHAPTER 1

VIVIAN

Crashing down into his arms from the ceiling was trouble enough, but his furious gaze was worse.

I was now in serious danger.

The problem with working with criminals was that they were, well… criminals.

I couldn’t trust a single one of them as far as I could throw them.

This bastard owed me money and was skipping town without paying.

I didn’t care that he was some big, fancy dictator of some country I’d never even heard of.

A deal was a deal. I’d held up my end. Now he needed to pay up.

Although it wouldn’t provide much protection, I stuffed a switchblade into my Marc Jacobs tote bag before storming down to the warehouse.

The knife was more of a novelty item, with its pink pearl handle covered in silver glitter hearts, but strictly speaking—it was still a freaking knife.

And would show him I meant business.

After entering the warehouse from the loading dock, my first warning was the horrible, rotten egg smell. This differed from the usual moldy wood and stale urine stench that permeated the century-old brick and cement building.

The hair on the back of my neck rose as I approached the hallway, which led to Abakar’s office. My ears strained to hear the usual banal conversation about dog track races and women from the two bodyguards, who were usually stationed outside the door.

Nothing.

The hallway wasn’t silent as much as there wasn’t any sound.

It was too silent.

Like a forest with no bird song.

If I didn’t need the money, I would have fled.

That stupid commission took me six months. I worked on it to the exclusion of all other projects. I had rent due, a car payment, bills, and a designer purse addiction to feed.

Abakar owed me a lot of money. I couldn’t afford to just walk away.

My steps slowed as I neared a corner. I cautiously inched forward and peeked around the brick edge.

Several large men dressed all in black and holding guns marched down the opposite end of the hall. My gaze shifted to Abakar’s reinforced steel office door. Two twining curls of smoke rose from the hinges. The source of the acrid sulphur stench.

It was a hit squad.

No amount of money was worth my life.

With panic overwhelming me, I turned and sprinted up the closest staircase.

The moment I reached the landing, I realized my mistake. The second level of the warehouse was just a massive open space filled with litter and dust, but nothing else. Nowhere to hide.

Before retracing my steps, I heard the hollow ping of metal clanging against cement echoing down the hall. Then raised, angry voices.

It was too late.

As I spun in a circle, I spotted the maintenance access panel. I thrust my hand into my purse and shifted it around the bottom, searching by touch for my switchblade.

After I pulled it free from the confines of my bag, I flicked it open while grasping its ridiculous pink handle. With the somewhat dull edge wedged between the rusted panel and the wall, I pried the access door open.

With an anxious glance over my shoulder, I crawled into the dusty vent. The tight space allowed me to barely twist and close the panel door.

Every movie I had ever seen was a freaking lie.

Air ducts were not shiny shafts of slippery metal.

They were dark, dusty, cobweb-filled portals to hell.

This was, without a doubt, one of the dumbest things I had ever done. I should have taken my chances on the second floor, or raced back to the loading dock and acted clueless if caught, or I don’t know… maybe called the police.

It wasn’t like the police would find out what I’d done.

They’d be too busy focusing on the sinister, heavily tattooed, gun-wielding hit squad to be worried about my crime. Especially since, technically, I wasn’t the one committing the crime. I was merely providing a service.

No one blames the manufacturer when someone gets in a car crash.

Oh, wait. Crap, they do.

The analogy sucked, but my point was the same.

I wasn’t the criminal; I was more… criminal adjacent.

And it wasn’t my fault. A girl’s gotta eat—and buy expensive designer purses.

My fingers fluttered over my lips as I wiped yet another cobweb away.

Seeing the spider from these webs would end my fear of being murdered. Because I would let out such a bloodcurdling scream, the whole damn building would come down around my ears.

My shoulders hitched up and tensed as the rubber sole of my boots squeaked against the metal. After a brief pause, I resumed my agonizingly slow crawl along the vent, hoping to reach the opening to a space where there was no shouting or guns.

My fingertips brushed something in the dark.

Something with fur.

I was now terrified of something other than spiders.

Forgetting all about the scary men, the guns, and the money I was owed, I let out a horrified cry and scrambled along the air duct, which rumbled and thundered with my every movement, as if I were a storm cloud chasing the gloom.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

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Unwillingly His – Gilded Decadence Read Online Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley http://www.ilovenovels.com/unwillingly-his-gilded-decadence-read-online-zoe-blake-alta-hensley Sat, 22 Jun 2024 18:37:59 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/unwillingly-his-gilded-decadence-read-online-zoe-blake-alta-hensley Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark, Forbidden Authors: Alta Hensley, Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >80

The moment she slapped me, I knew I'd chosen the right bride.

To be fair, I had just stolen her entire inheritance.

As Lucian Manwarring, billionaire patriarch of the powerful Manwarring family, my word is law.
She's a beautiful and innocent heiress, raised to be the perfect society trophy wife.
Although far too young for me, that won't stop me from claiming her as my new prized possession.

What I hadn't planned on was her open defiance of me.
Far from submissive and obedient, she is stubborn, outspoken and headstrong.
She tries to escape my control and fights my plan to force her down the aisle.

I am not accustomed to being disobeyed.
While finding it mildly amusing at first, it is past time she accepts her fate.
She will be my bride even if I have to ruthlessly dominate and punish her to get what I want.

Dive into the seductive world of dark romance featuring New York's high society as they navigate treacherous schemes and guard their scandalous desires, expertly woven by the USAT Bestselling authors Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley.

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

CHAPTER 1

STELLA

Istormed across the courtroom and slapped Lucian Manwarring across the face.

Unlike in the movies, there were no shocked gasps, no outraged cries, no laughter.

Definitely no laughter.

There wasn’t even the repeated frenzied slam of a gavel as a red-faced judge screamed, ‘Order! Order in the court!’.

There was only silence.

Tense, repressive, ominous… silence.

After all, I had just slapped a vengeful god.

At least that was what everyone was thinking around me. I could literally feel their mortal terror. It radiated off the assembled courtroom like a wave of heat after a bomb blast.

Lucian Manwarring was the foreboding patriarch of the powerful and rich Manwarring family. His exploits in business were famous… or rather infamous. There were few people in New York who weren’t terrified of this man.

When crossed, he didn’t get angry, he got even. Scorched earth even. His billion-dollar whiskey empire was built on the charred remains of countless other businesses and men.

He was feared, respected, reviled, and envied.

My father had hated him with a burning, white-hot passion.

Which was why it made no sense. Why would he name Lucian Manwarring the trustee over my inheritance in the event of his death?

A sharp pain pierced my chest.

They were gone. Both of them. My parents had been taken from me in an instant.

A vision of twisted car metal, the smell of blood, and my mother’s moans as snowflakes gently drifted down on me from the opening in the torn roof floated across my inner eye. I shook the disturbing image away.

I needed to focus.

If I didn’t do something, Lucian would succeed in not only stealing my entire inheritance, but in having complete control over my life until I turned twenty-nine. That was three years from now!

The very idea of being under this man’s thumb for that long was untenable.

My right palm stung, but I resisted the urge to rub it against my thigh.

I didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt me.

Trying to match his glare, my eyes watered as I refused to blink.

Or were they tears?

Through clenched teeth, I threatened, “You won’t get away with this.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Little one, I already have.”

CHAPTER 2

LUCIAN

How amusing.

Stella Deiderich had struck me.

In public, no less.

Of course, now I would need to teach her a lesson.

She’d need to learn what happened to bad little girls the hard way.

The easy way never seemed to stick.

Rising slowly, I raised my hand to the judge to signal he was not to interfere.

I circled the plaintiff’s desk as I buttoned my suit jacket before stepping up to her.

In business, I used every advantage, no matter how trivial, to get the upper hand.

One such advantage was my superior height.

Usually taller than the average man in the room, I completely towered over Stella’s slight frame.

She really was uncommonly beautiful, despite her age. With more maturity and life experience, I could see her becoming an absolutely stunning woman. At the moment, she was a little too thin, perhaps from her sudden grief. And her eyes held the wild, unguarded emotions of youth, rather than the calculated intelligence of a woman who knew her place in the world.

Recent events had shown me I needed to make some changes to my life.

Marriage, for one.

This wasn’t about love or any superfluous need for affection, but more about preservation.

My children had shown an admirable, if inconvenient, rebellious and stubborn nature as of late. It had become clear: if my vision for the future of my company was to be realized, I would need more offspring. And for that, I needed a wife.

The idea of searching for one was as distasteful as it would have been inconvenient.

Fortunately, the perfect prospect had practically fallen into my lap.

Stella.

Her father, that moron Wallace Oliver Deiderich, had decided to travel in an ice storm several months ago. He’d managed to kill himself, his wife, and the driver in a terrible crash. He had also very nearly killed his daughter.

It was chilling to recall. I had held her in my arms not moments before when she’d accidentally bumped into me on the sidewalk that night after slipping on the ice.

If I had known…

I recalled being intrigued not only by her beauty… but by her obvious hatred—of me.

Clearly her father had been distasteful enough to share his business woes with his wife and child. I imagine they were regaled over the dinner table with tales of my evil manipulations as I’d divested him of numerous companies and investments, significantly reducing not only his fortune but his influence.

I wouldn’t apologize for it.

Wallace was an idiot who had run those companies into the ground.

While the world and my peers may have perceived my actions as the worst of corporate greed, I knew the truth.

Over five thousand people, close to thirty-five hundred families, and four entire towns in the Midwest would have been eviscerated with unemployment, bankruptcy, and debt when his factories eventually closed from mismanagement—had I not stepped in.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >80

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Reluctantly His – Gilded Decadence Read Online Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley http://www.ilovenovels.com/reluctantly-his-gilded-decadence-read-online-zoe-blake-alta-hensley Mon, 27 May 2024 20:58:24 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/reluctantly-his-gilded-decadence-read-online-zoe-blake-alta-hensley Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Virgin Authors: Alta Hensley, Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >81

First rule of being a bodyguard, don't f*ck the woman you're protecting.

And I want to break that rule so damn bad I can practically taste her.

She's innocent, sheltered, and spoiled.
As Reid Taylor, former Army sergeant and head of security for the Manwarrings, the last thing I should be doing is babysitting my boss's little sister.
I definitely shouldn't be fantasizing about pinning her down, spreading her thighs and…

It should help that she fights my protection at every turn.
Disobeying my rules. Running away from me. Talking back with that sexy, smart mouth of hers.
But it doesn't. It just makes me want her more.

I want to bend her over and claim her, hard and rough, until she begs for mercy.
That is a dangerous line I cannot cross.
She is an heiress, the precious daughter of one of the most powerful, multi-billionaire families in New York.
And I'm just her bodyguard, an employee. It would be the ultimate societal taboo.

But now her family is forcing her into an arranged marriage, and I'm not sure I'll be able to contain my rising rage at the idea of another man touching her.

Explore the intriguing secrets and dark longings of New York's elite as they come to life in this compelling series by USAT Bestselling authors Zoe Blake and Alta Hensley.

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

CHAPTER 1

CHARLOTTE

Without warning, I was snatched from behind and roughly pulled against a hard male body.

“Where do you think you’re going?” growled my father’s head of security, like a junkyard dog deprived of a bone.

Still reeling from my father’s demand that I now be followed around like a child, the last thing I wanted was to deal with anyone.

With my chin raised and my face averted, I wrenched my shoulder, trying to break the guard dog’s tight grasp. It didn’t work.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and responded tightly, “Kindly unhand me, Mr. Taylor. I’d like to leave.”

Closing my eyes, I envisioned the legato notes of Saint-Saëns’ The Swan to control my breathing and remain calm. Although I used the technique in cello practice, it had become a necessary tool of survival as a daughter in the Manwarring family.

In this family, I wasn’t a beloved daughter or sister.

I was a pawn.

An asset.

No different than a pile of stock certificates to be bought and traded to the highest bidder.

An object.

And apparently, like any object of value, I now needed to be guarded.

His hand shifted to caress the sensitive skin of my inner arm, just under the lace edge of my chiffon puff sleeve. “It’s either Sergeant Taylor, Sergeant—or if I’m pulling your hair, Reid— but never Mr. Taylor.”

Shocked by the subtle yet intimate gesture and his bold comment, I raised my face to his and gasped at the intensity of his dark gaze.

This was the closest I had ever been to him, to any man really.

Wealthy daughters of billionaire families might as well be displayed behind glass.

Always seen, never touched.

Pretty dolls to be admired for their silent obedience.

Recovering, my tongue flicked out to wet my dry lips. “If you are trying to get a reaction out of me, Sergeant Taylor, you are wasting your time.”

The constant pressure on generations of Manwarring women, to know their place and never say or do anything to embarrass the family, had turned me into the perfect diamond. Something bright and shiny with no more emotions than a piece of stone.

His head pivoted to scan the empty corridor before he tightened his hold on my arm and swung us in an arc until we were secluded from view in the darkened alcove which housed a tall, bronze sculpture of a naked couple in a sensual embrace.

My heart raced as panic made me light-headed. Or was it his nearness?

Either way, I knew my father was only steps away in his office.

As I was the last remaining obedient sibling, it had been made clear to me he would not tolerate even the slightest break in propriety.

Not after what Olivia had done.

And certainly not after the scandal my brother had caused.

Reid braced his forearm over my head. “What’s the matter, princess? Are my dirty, lower-class hands too rough for your soft, blue blood skin?”

His comment brought my focus back to the warm, rough sensation of his hands on me. A shiver ran up my spine.

This was wrong. Really wrong.

By breathing intensified.

Princess.

Of course he’d call me a princess. I had heard it all: princess, snow queen, duchess, spoiled bitch. There was no point in complaining or explaining. No one wanted to hear the problems of the poor little rich girl.

Not that I blamed them.

Restrained masculine power radiated off him like heat.

I was used to being surrounded by men with power, but this was different. With those men, their power came from paper. Arbitrary figures plucked from thin air.

Sergeant’s power was primal. The kind that came from heavy muscle, an iron will, and the arrogance of knowing you could break a man’s neck with your bare hands.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >81

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Scorn of the Betrothed – Cavalieri Billionaire Legacy Read Online Zoe Blake http://www.ilovenovels.com/scorn-of-the-betrothed-cavalieri-billionaire-legacy-read-online-zoe-blake Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:45 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/scorn-of-the-betrothed-cavalieri-billionaire-legacy-read-online-zoe-blake Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Virgin Authors: Zoe Blake Advertisement

Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >123

Scorn of the Betrothed
Cavalieri Billionaire Legacy, Book Five

A union forged in vengeance, bound by hate, and... beneath it all...a twisted game of power.

The true legacy of the Cavalieri family, my birthright, ties me to a woman I despise:
the daughter of the mafia boss who nearly ended my family.
Making her both my enemy...and my future wife.

The hatred is mutual; she has no desire for me to be her groom.
A prisoner to her families' ambitions, she's desperate for a way out.

My duty is to guard her, to ensure she doesn't escape her gilded cage.
But every moment spent with her, every spark of anger, adds fuel to the growing fire of desire between us.
We're trapped in a volatile duel of passion and fury.

Yet, the more I try to tame her, the more she fights me,
Our impending marriage becomes a dangerous game.
Now, as the wedding draws near, my suspicions grow.

My bride is not who she claims.

Fans of seductive dark romances from authors like Natasha Knight, Anna Zaires, A. Zavarelli, and Charmaine Pauls won't want to miss this installment.

Scorn of the Betrothed delves further into the tempestuous world of the Cavalieri men. Dive into Matteo's tale and uncover more about the turbulent love affairs of Barone and Amara, Cesare and Milana, Enzo and Bianca, and Benedict with his vengeful lover.

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

CHAPTER 1

ANTONELLA

Palermo, Sicily

February

"Bad girl, swaying your hips like this in front of other men—when you're supposed to be mine."

A powerful arm had wrapped around my waist from behind and snatched me to a man's chest before he leaned down to rasp in my ear.

In shock, I craned my neck to stare into a pair of piercing dark eyes, glaring at me from behind an elaborate black leather Carnevale devil's mask covering the upper portion of the man's face. The rest of him was dressed in unrelenting midnight black, from his heavy brocade jacket and tails to his tall riding boots.

His?

I twisted around in his grip to press my palms against his chest and push, trying to break free of his grasp.

For nothing.

The man's chest was harder than a brick wall.

While it may be common practice for drunken men to touch and grab the women in the crowd during the wanton revelry of Carnevale, this was different.

His intense gaze raised the hairs on the back of my neck. A primal reaction to being caught in a predator's sights, to be sure.

And what the hell did he mean by "when you're supposed to be mine?"

Shaking off the increasing panic which twisted my stomach, I tried to wrench away from him again as I fired back. "Parlari, tischi-toschi. Va eccati!"

He was clearly Italian and not a tourist, so I deliberately insulted him in Sicilian. I wouldn't dare call him arrogant and pretentious before telling him to go jump in the sea in a language he could understand!

I wasn't that brave.

His lips twisted in a smirk. "Christa e a zita, muoviti ddruocu, colomba mia birichina."

Accept your fate and don't move.

I froze.

He had responded using two nonsensical, slang Sicilian phrases that only someone familiar with the language and culture would know.

He had also called me colomba mia birichina.

My naughty little dove.

My fingers clawed at the brocade of his costume, panic tightening my throat even as a spark of awareness seemed to warm my insides.

It could be nothing…

Dressed as the popular character Colombina from the Commedia dell'Arte in keeping with this year's Carnevale theme, his calling me little dove, the literal translation of her name, was not significant.

Except that it felt significant in a territorially possessive sort of way.

The pounding of the blood in my ears warred with the pounding drums from the live music only steps away.

Who was this man? And why was he so fixated on bothering me, when there were countless half-dressed, fully drunk women gyrating and attempting to twerk he could choose from?

The chaos of the Palermo Carnevale ebbed and flowed all around us, a dizzying kaleidoscope of shattered crystal shards in crimson, cobalt, amethyst, and jade. Revelers danced feverishly to the pounding beat of the tambourines from the pizzica tarantelle performed in the center of the Piazza Garraffello.

His arm tightened around my waist, pushing our hips together. "Stop fighting me, little dove. You can't win."

My feet were lifted off the ground as he swung me in an arch, moving in time with the music.

The mandolins, violins, and high-pitched, plaintive cries of the female singers lyrically calling out for lost lovers added a Dionysian, almost unhinged, energy to the night.

As he carried me off, closer and closer to the edge of the crowd, the tips of my shoes scraped along the smooth, worn cobblestones of the piazza.

I gripped his shoulders and arched my back, still trying to break free. "You're making a mistake!"

Clearly, this was some suitor of my twin sister, Antonia.

He had to be. It was the only explanation for the way he was holding me.

His hand moved down my lower back. "Are you trying to get out of your punishment?"

Sciatiri e matri!

Punishment? Had he said punishment? No. He couldn't have. Furiously I scanned my brain for another word—any other word—I could have mistaken for the word punishment over the loud music.

My mouth opened on a choked cry as he cupped my ass and growled, "This cute ass is going to feel the sting of my belt. I'm going to teach you a lesson about flaunting your body for anyone else but me."

Before I could shake off my stunned reaction and respond, we were both shoved by the crowd surrounding us. The sudden impact loosened his grasp just enough for me to finally twist free.

I ducked low to squeeze between two revelers before snaking through the dense crowd. Jostled by the throng, I pitched sideways, too afraid to glance back at my pursuer.

All around me the air reeked of sweat, cheap wine, and fried food. The fabrics of the rented Commedia dell'Arte costumes exuded a musty scent of dust, mothballs, and neglect.

There were swaggering men dressed as Pulcinella with their gnarled nose masks askew and their bulging stomachs barely contained within the thin white linen of their ruffled tunics. A number of smarmy Pantalones in flowing black capes and pointed nose masks. And countless women dressed as sexy Pierrots with black-and-white striped thigh-highs under laced corsets complimenting their pouting, sad clown makeup. My sister being one of them, with the exception of her thigh-high leather boots.

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