Forbidden Agreements

Abihirt Lincoln woke up to find a young girl wrapped in thick blankets in his bed. He blinked a few times, trying hard to remember the remnants of last night's bet. The bastard Roki had brazenly added stimulant powder to the last cocktail glass—which had to be gulped down—to celebrate the upcoming wedding day. "Asshole!" Abihirt cursed while rubbing his rough face. This morning was the blessing. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 30 minutes to go, but as the groom-Abihirt had yet to make any preparations. For a moment, the gray eyes scanned the innocent face, which slowly began to frown to avoid the light streaming through the white curtains. Abihirt picked up the cloth scattered around the edge of the bed. Putting his white shirt back on, he raised one eyebrow high when he noticed that the bright blue iris had completely opened and were staring in complete surprise. "Who are you?" Moreau's breath caught. No one would have expected that in front of her a full-grow

"You should get along better with my new husband, Moreau. But you must remember to behave yourself. Don't wear sexy clothes while Abi is home." So early in the morning Barbara had said a series of words, which had not even crossed Moreau's mind. She found it odd to think that since when would Barbara care about how she dressed? Never. Only after she had remarried. All the anticipation was there and the slightest hint of a cornered tone as if Moreau had been prepared, or perhaps Barbara had a hunch? Moreau would make sure that what happened that night. Would never happen again. "Did you hear me, Moreau?" Barbara's question again - the song filled the room, pushing Moreau back to the surface. She blinked, then glanced at her mother's stern face. "I dress openly only when performing on stage or at important tournaments. Even then, it's still within polite and normal levels. The rest of the time, as you've always seen, my clothes are ordinary," Moreau snarled as she pulled the fron

"So, can you explain to me why your family wasn't at the wedding yesterday?" Moreau would not be put off any longer by her curiosity after her accidental encounter with Froy. It was strange to know Abihirt was related by blood to her former lover, but Froy was nowhere to be seen on the wedding day. Now she was beginning to doubt what Abihirt's unrevealed thoughts were. Moreau feared that Abihirt was ultimately a dangerous man, while she and her mother had become involved in a committed relationship with him. Moreau's fingers unconsciously tightened waiting for Abihirt to say something, at least a little, even though the man seemed to be so preoccupied with reading the file she had brought at Barbara's request. How serious... Abihirt's cold face was unbelievably handsome. Moreau swallowed roughly. Trying not to be mesmerized - unwilling to stare at the man's face any longer. She preferred to move her attention around the office. It was a beautiful place. Almost every corner of the s

"Thank you for your interest in injecting funds into our organization's team, Mr. Lincoln. Many people know you as a successful young entrepreneur, so it would be great if more people would consider sponsoring us in the future." "No need to be shy, Mr. Pablo. My late mother was also a former ice dancer. I'm happy to do it." It was only when Barbara recounted Moreau's busy day and everything on the young girl's personal file. Abihirt was suddenly interested in doing challenging activities. The many stories about his mother's elegance had always intrigued and mesmerized him. There was no denying that Moreau's beautifully curved body had slightly whetted Abihirt's worn-out appetite. Simply getting into something-apparently-wouldn't be enough to give Abihirt leverage. He looked up at Mr. Pablo and accepted the handshake of the man before him. The deal was loaded. The conversation was over. He needed to leave this place after handing over some work in full to his right-hand man. Besides

It didn't seem like the right decision to go home alone. Abihirt was barely able to control the steering wheel properly after having to deal with the serious urges that were building up inside him the whole time. His entire chest and throat felt like they were on fire. He had already contacted Roger, sending him Barbara's home address so that he could catch up, or if things didn't go as planned, Roger would arrive first. Abihirt had searched for the fastest way home, the least traveled. But that, too, seemed to be a big mistake. Instead of the darkening skyline accompanying the faint sounds in the air, wild bikers were ungraciously making their presence known. One after another popped up. They were speeding. Then one of the bikers had an absolute collision. Abihirt made a steep slam-his foot pressed against the brake until it jerked violently forward, while the man with the head protector rolled several times onto the asphalt. The dragged motorcycle brutally sparks until it comes to a