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