Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Not that she’ll admit it.
She’d sooner go to her grave than ask for help—especially from a man.
Wall Street’s wolf in heels, Calliope built an empire, shattered egos, and earned a reputation as the woman who made grown men cry in their private jets. But after a betrayal that threatens everything she’s worked for, she trades skyscrapers for lighthouses and flees to Jupiter, Maine.
She tells her family it’s just a break. A vacation. A reset.
She’s lying.
She’s here to plot revenge.
Not to fall in love.
And definitely not with a charming fisherman like Elliot Shaw.
He’s not her type—too easygoing, too noble, too sincere.
Or so she thinks… until she discovers the depths beneath his quiet strength.
Until he begins to unravel the cold, calculated woman she spent years becoming.
The carefree fisherman reveals a side of herself she never dared explore.
And the more tangled up she gets, the more she realizes Elliot isn’t just a temptation—
he might be a lifeline.
An anchor. To a better life.
It may be too late to guard her heart, but she’ll do whatever it takes to protect her family—and Elliot—even if it’s from herself.
Because Calliope knows one thing for sure, she doesn’t deserve an easy life with a good man
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
One
Eat Your Young — Hozier
CALLIOPE
There was a monster in my house.
Technically, it was my brother’s house. But I paid rent. Not that he ever accepted it.
I opened an account in his daughter’s name where I deposited the above-market rental income he didn’t know about. She’d get it when she turned eighteen. Something which would likely infuriate my brother. A happy side effect.
Details...
“You’re home late for a town that closes up by 11 p.m.,” the monster observed.
He’d poured himself a glass of scotch, sitting in the armchair that faced the ocean, legs crossed, showcasing alligator loafers below the hem of his perfectly tailored trousers. Though the light from the lamp in the corner only illuminated the room in a dim glow, I knew he was wearing a bespoke suit, black shirt, open collar.
A small brooch in the shape of a dove would be pinned to his lapel.
There would be two handguns in holsters underneath his suit, a knife strapped to his belt.
He wouldn’t need those weapons to kill me, though. Even though I was a black belt and had a gun stashed in the console table to my right, he could take me down with his bare hands in seconds. That was his job, after all.
He was known as ‘The Monster of Manhattan’ in certain circles.
A rather trite and overly dramatic title that made him seem like a serial killer. But I supposed he was a serial killer if you considered his body count.
My heart hammered in my chest at his presence, the scent of pine and spice assaulting my senses.
Any sign of unease, of fear, he’d spot. He was trained to notice these things. Not that he needed training. This man, this monster, knew me. Knew my every tell, my every secret, every inch of my body. He’d learned it. He’d learned me when I was a teenage girl learning herself. He understood me before I understood myself. A trend that followed every change I’d gone through since then. There was no form, no new shape or identity, that he couldn’t learn about me.
My nails dug into the inside of my palms hard enough to break the skin. I took a deep breath then walked to my bar, pouring my own glass of scotch.
“I was babysitting,” I finally responded, my back to him.
My voice didn’t betray an ounce of disquiet. It was calm, cool, as collected as it was in every boardroom I’d ever been in, facing billionaires used to steamrolling women at best and sexually assaulting them at worst.
Not once had I let one of those kinds of men intimidate me. I’d done what I do best; I’d shredded them in those boardrooms, taking all of their self-respect and power while they were busy staring at my tits.
I was paid handsomely for what I did because I was fucking good at it.
Not that those skills meant anything in front of Jasper—The Monster of Manhattan—Hayes.
“Babysitting?” he repeated as I turned, bringing the glass up to my lips. “Things have changed since you moved out of the city.” He said this mildly, as if he hadn’t been watching me, hadn’t known exactly what I’d been doing the second I left the city.
I studied him as I sipped my drink. This wasn’t the first time Jasper had come to visit me. The first time was at my request. I had been drinking with Fiona, feeling adrift in Jupiter, restless for the trouble that couldn’t have been that bad when I’d looked at it in hindsight—through martini goggles.
He’d flown in a jet to see me the minute I’d texted him. Was in a SUV idling outside the bar by the time Kip had arrived to retrieve Fiona. That had made me feel powerful, like I had the monster on a leash.
But that had been stupid, cocky and fueled by vodka. I knew better than to think anyone could leash this creature. But I’d been bored, forced into a false sense of security by the idyllic surroundings of Jupiter.
I’d climbed into his lap then, riding him in the parking lot without care. Had taken him back to this very house, sunk back into old habits that both satisfied and repulsed me.
That night had excited me. Until he unraveled me, exposing all the places I’d been trying to cover, to change about myself. Reminded me why I’d distanced myself from Jasper in the first place.
I didn’t like who I was when I was with him.
“He wants you back at your desk,” Jasper said when I didn’t respond to him.
My blood chilled. We both knew who he was. The man I was running from. The man who ruined everything.
Power games. It was all power games. Me not rushing to fill the silence most people would squirm in.
Though I didn’t let it show, his words sent a cold sliver of fear through my midsection. Jasper was here on an errand for his employer, one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the country. He could have people killed in the blink of an eye. More often than not, it was Jasper doing the killing.