Novels by Rhoda Wrights

Brielle's POV “So, you've faced down worse than some mystery man in a balaclava. Let's see how you like the tables turned.” His back turned to me, he deftly pours a glass of wine, the rich ruby liquid swirling against the crystal. “How about you strip for me? Think you can handle that?” His eyes harden as they travel over my body. With an audacious tilt of his head, and a devilish smirk, He raises his glass with flair, “To a night of revelation.” His eyes pin me in place as he stands over me, sipping his wine with an air of quiet confidence. My eyes dart down to the floor, and I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. “I'm taken, sorry.” “Andrei ever asked you to undress for him?” The cadence of his words holds a mesmerizing quality and For a split second, I see a flash of hunger in his eyes, and it makes my breath catch. It's like he's craving something — and I'm not sure if it's the wine or me. I look away again, not wanting to get sucked into the vortex of his charisma – it's just

Brielle's POV. “How long are you gonna keep me here?” I demand, chasing after my captor, determined to get some answers before he vanishes again, “Show yourself, you coward! What else do you want from me?” He doesn't slow his stride, his silence only heightening my agitation. “Damn it, answer me!” He pivots to face me, features obscured by a black, balaclava erasing any hint of humanity. “You think you're in a position to demand answers, Monroe?” “Yes, I am!” I fire back, “You got what you wanted from Andrei. He held up his end of the deal. Now let me go!” “You're not going anywhere. Not until I'm finished with you.” “Think again, hotshot I’m not some damsel in distress, waiting to be saved. You can shove your twisted game straight up your…" I bite back profanity. He tilts his head, his balaclava doing little to conceal the malicious mirth that dances in his eyes. “Spunk like that is why Andrei picked you.” "Enough of this sick game! If you're going to take my life, then

Andrei's POV. My leather jacket is all that's keeping me from freezing my ass off. I glare down at my phone—10:00 PM. With time to kill, I decide to grab a coffee while I wait for my meeting with a key business associate. I've got to keep the wheels turning, no matter the chaos. Lucas Rossini, He's a major player in the oil world and is scheduled to arrive soon. This meeting could be the turning point we need. So I'll bide my time with a cup of black gold, watching the clock tick… My thoughts are a jumbled mess, with Brielle's face the only clear picture amidst the coffee shop's bustle. “Last call, sir. We're closing in 15.” I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light that permeates the café, revealing empty tables, chairs neatly stacked, and the quiet stillness of the nearly deserted establishment. The waitress is standing there, looking pretty patient, but I can tell she's getting a little annoyed. I glance at my watch and, sure enough, an hour's gone by. I pay up and

Andrei's POV Those piercing blue eyes, like sapphires shining bright, visible behind the ornate red Venetian mask, ring a bell deep within me. They're eyes I've gazed into countless times, eyes that have sparkled with laughter, shone with tears, and burned with passion. They're Brielle's eyes. In them, I see fear, but I also see fire, the spark that tells me she's still fighting, still holding on. And that's all I need to see. That's all I need to know. She's no coward, something's got her spooked and I won't let her down. My hand falls away from her arm, and gently hand her the papers. “Here, take it.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide, as she takes the papers. I want to reach out, wrap my arms around her, and shield her from all this. I can't. And it's torture unlike any other. She slips away. I pray to whatever gods are out there that she comes back to me, holding on to the thought that as soon as she hands over those papers, she'll be free — free to come back to me, to lea

Brielle's POV. “My shooter's just waiting for the green light. Don't make me give the order. It’s that simple.” I swallow hard, realizing that this is no idle threat—this man means business, and he’s playing a game I don’t know the rules to. As much as it terrifies me, I force myself to nod. “Go. Take the papers from Andrei. Don't speak. Don't hesitate. Just bring them back to me.” Our eyes meet, and I nod, signaling my understanding. He accepts my silent assent and resumes his instructions. “Get the papers, then head to exit five. I'll be there, waiting for you. We'll leave together, nice and quiet. Eyes on you, don't mess this up.” The music stops. The party freezes. He releases my arm, and in an instant, he's gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Masks glint, jewels flash, and the murmur of conversations assaults my senses. The room tilts, and I stumble, my senses reeling. The sound of my name, or rather, the term 'beautiful', startles me. I spin around, and my gaze m

Brielle's POV The bathroom's lavish decor is truly fit for royalty, brimming with lavish details that dazzle the senses. My gaze is darting everywhere, drinking in the luxurious marble floors, gold fixtures, and the crazy exotic scents too. I inhale deeply, the scent of vanilla bean Noel and caramelized amber envelops me, transporting me to a world of tranquility. It's like my worries are dissolving in a warm bubble bath. But, just as I'm about to surrender to the bliss, my conscience decides to stage an intervention. 'Hey, snap out of it! This isn't a five-star hotel – it's a hostage situation!' I blink back to reality. That’s me, standing there like a deer in the headlights, trying to process the cognitive dissonance of being held hostage in a palace of caramel-scented luxury. As if the situation couldn’t get any more lavish, I spot freaking sauna – a real-life, steam-emitting temple of zen – nestled in the corner of this already-insane bathroom. It's weird how the