Belle Madrigal was forced into a contract marriage with the enigmatic and powerful Alistair Kensington, heir to Kensington Enterprises, to save her childhood home. The catch? Alistair was in a deep coma when the contract was signed. His ruthless father, Alexander Kensington, orchestrated the marriage to maintain control over the family empire. But when Alistair unexpectedly wakes up, the nightmare begins. Enraged by the forced marriage, he vows to punish Belle for what he believes is a scheme to trap him. His threats turn cruel when he swears that if they ever had children, he would erase their existence from the world. Four years later, Belle has rebuilt her life in France, raising her genius fraternal twins, Theodore and Rosalie, away from the man who once threatened them. But fate is cruel. A single hacked message from her tech-savvy son to a live TV broadcast sends a challenge to Alistair: "Come and get me, asshole." Now, with the past clawing its way back, Belle must fight to protect her children from the dangerous, brooding billionaire who is determined to reclaim what he unknowingly lost.
View MoreAlistair, you ought never to have kissed her. With narrowed eyes and a deadly smile curling her lips, Evangeline stood at the threshold. Her voice clearly carried malice, and the strain between them was strong enough to cut right through. When Belle saw Evangeline, her stomach turned like a sharp knife pressed to the incision Alistair had just opened in her heart. "You'll regret this," Evangeline said in a whisper but with great force. Alistair stiffly stood; his jaw tightened. "It's not your concern, Evangeline," he shot, his voice slicing across the room like a razor. You never will and you do not own me. Alistair's voice was frigid, meant for Evangeline rather than Belle at this point, yet the words hung thick in the air, as though he were attempting to persuade himself more than anybody else. Anger, uncertainty, frustration, a tsunami of feeling, pounded Belle through. She had never felt this exposed, this vulnerable in front of anyone, and most definitely not in front of Alis
"Belle," he said, his voice low and silky. It has been far too long. She battled to keep her calm and swallowed. "What are you doing here, Bernard? " Her voice came out more steadily than she had anticipated, but as it swept a lock of hair off her face, her hand trembled. Bernard's lips curved into a known smile that had once melted her heart. Belle, I have been searching for you. I never paused. She felt the words strike her like a stomach-punch. Searching for her, he had been Why exactly now? Once all these years have passed? A harsh voice sliced across the room before she could reply. So, oh, well. Look who's returned; Evangeline stood at the doorway grinning smugly on her face. Her eyes furrowed as they passed between Bernard and Belle. Belle straightened; her back straight as she turned to meet Evangeline. She felt the usual sense of rivalry flickering inside her; she had not seen this tension still present. But the fact that Bernard was back worried Evangeline more than he
"Miss Madrigal," he said softly but urgently. "You shouldn't depart yet." Belle stopped dead still, glancing about naturally. "why? What do you imply?" The butler's gaze flicked uncomfortably over his shoulder then he moved forward. "The Kensingtons cover things. Events darker than you are aware of." Her pulse accelerated and a cold crawled down her spine. Her voice tight with discomfort, she questioned, "What are you talking about?" He bent in, his breath hardly audible as he whispered. "Do you find out what happened to Alistair's sister?" Her heart skipped. Such a person was unheard of to her. Isla Alistair's mother had always seemed to be the matriarch; her influence was overwhelming. A sister, though? The riddle grew more complex, and the butler's eyes clearly showed worry. "What happened to her??" Belle pressed, now driven by a terrible curiosity. The butler hesitated even though his lips parted as if he wanted to speak more. Then he replied, in a voice hardly above a whis
She almost ran into a man in basic navy shirt and pants as she turned the bend. Dark-haired and with a quiet professionalism, he was shorter than Alistair. Still, his eyes revealed another picture. Behind them was something strong, something not fit for this modern, polished edifice. "Mrs. Madrigal??" The man spoke in a low, almost quiet voice, as though he may be overheard. Certainly? Belle hesitated, perplexed by his abrupt presence. He looked unlike one of the security guards, and his casual clothes stood out from the neat suits of the Kensington personnel. "I'm Julian," he said, his face inscrutable. "My line of employment is IT. From looking over your file, I understand what happened. He looked over his shoulder to be sure nobody else was listening. "Miss Madrigal, someone put those files there. And you were not among them. Belle felt her pulse speed up. "What?" Are you sure? Julian nodded sadly. Though I lack all the specifics, I have been running server log diagnostics. Th
Sitting around the table, the board members watched her; some were curious, some dubious. Seated at the head of the table, Alistair looked not upward. His expression as impenetrable as always, his posture was stiff. She was not here for him though. She was here to convince herself she belonged. She could go above the murmurs that trailed after her every stride, the uncertainty hovering over her action. She offered her idea, a creative approach to increase the online portfolio of the business. Belle spoke with assurance, every statement deliberates, every concept more interesting than the next. Except for the sporadic tapping of pens against paper as the board members took down notes, the room was quiet. There was a moment of astonished quiet just before she finished. The board members then turned one by one, their expressions moving from incredulity to appreciation. Belle's suggestion was wise. The concepts were original, audacious, exactly what Kensington Enterprises needed to keep
Alistair's voice pierced the quiet, low and merciless, "I told you to stay out of it." The words came out as a directive, as though he expected her to turn in. "Your battle is not this one." Though Belle's heart accelerated, she refused to turn around. His comments lacked the ability to terrify her any more. He had no say on what she might or could not do. "I'm not afraid of you, Alistair," she responded, her voice firm but somewhat rebellious. Though she could sense his wrath boiling behind her, she would not be intimidated. Alistair's breath stopped, and in the dark corridor there was just the sound of their breathing momentarily. He trailed just a few feet behind her, his weight nearly stifling. You should be, he said softly. But Belle wanted no more fear. She was not the lady he had sought to break or the one he had fled years ago. No, she would stay her ground this time. Whether he was chilly, remote, or enraged, she didn't give a damn. She turned to meet him. Though his sil
She said, "Alistair...," her voice almost audible over the storm. Her heart hammered in her chest, each instinct urging her to approach and submit. He answered no. His breath was a languid caress across her skin, his body so near she could feel the heat emanating from him. Closing her eyes, she got ready for anything, anything that would at last bring them closer. Then he withdrew, his visage stiffening, as if he were going to close the distance between them and felt the earth change. "No," he said, his voice taut with control. Belle opened her eyes, perplexity and annoyance building in her chest. What,? "Stay away from me, Belle," he said with a sharp and definitive tone. You are not sure what you are doing. She back off; the words stinging more than she had anticipated. She had felt it too, the draw between them, the unspoken tension, but suddenly it felt as though the air had thickened, forcing her away from him with a power she couldn’s comprehend. Though his words were in l
Her heart leaped in her breast as she turned abruptly to find a man standing just beyond the gates at the edge of the garden. The man wore shadows, his features covered by a broad-brimmed cap. He stayed still, yet there was something about his posture that made her spine quiver. As if he had been waiting for her to see him, he seemed to know she was watching him. Her immediate reaction was to turn away, to hide back into the mansion, but she discovered she was frozen unable to look away. Drawn by some invisible power, she moved slowly, warily toward him. The man lifted a hand as she got closer, something between his fingers. Noted. It fluttered in the breeze, then he threw it to her without saying. The paper was crumbled at the margins and scratchy. Belle unfolded the note, her fingertips gliding across the cool surface in her hands. The little message was scrawled in quickly penned ink. "You're not secure. Not even alongside him." Belle's breath halted. Her eyes returned to the
Alistair broke the quiet with a cold voice, "You must be wondering why you're here." "Belle is scheduled to be here for this meeting. She has a part to play going forward for Kensington Enterprises. Though no one ventured to speak aloud, a murmur permeated the room. Belle lowered her head to escape the men's stinging looks all around her. She was not experienced in board meetings, which showed. She lacked option, nevertheless. Her here was a quiet, subdued reminder of her relationship to Alistair. She transcended mere pawn in his game. She was his wife; her coming here was deliberate. "Belle, could you perhaps add something to the financial report?" One of the guys asked, his voice tinged with contempt. Belle felt her tummy turn over. His speech carried clear expectations: she was here to appear beautiful, not to help. She would not allow them, though, prevail. She leaned forward slightly, swallowing her discomfort, her voice calm despite the thumping in her chest. She started, "t
A sliver of golden light cut through the sheer drapes, tracing a thin path over the silk sheets. The scent of expensive cologne and last night’s champagne lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something forbidden. The world outside this penthouse was already awake cars honking, heels clicking against polished pavement but inside this gilded cage, time stood still.Belle Madrigal stirred, the cool satin against her bare skin a sharp contrast to the fevered heat of last night. Her mind felt thick, sluggish, as if swimming through the remnants of a dream. Then reality struck.She wasn’t in her own bed.Her lashes fluttered open, and the sight before her stole the breath from her lungs.A man stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, his movements precise, unhurried like a king preparing for war. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his frame exuding raw power even in the simplest of gestures. Tousled dark hair framed a face so str...
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