"This is my office. Bought with the money that I made. I made you who you are. Without me you’d be nothing more than a starving, working-class tramp scraping by on minimum wage to pay the bills. So, unless you want bad things to start happening, I suggest you apologize right f*cking now." From the outside, Vivienne's life looks like a fairytale: a nobody waitress swept into Hollywood stardom and the arms of a rich husband. But behind closed doors, it's a nightmare, and one that's about to get much worse. The only one willing to protect her now is Marcus, an ex-military, ex-mafia shifter who won't let anything hurt her. Yet problems still loom. Vivienne's stalker is still at large, her abusive husband and his family threaten her, and Marcus's position as an alpha shifter means even the other packs are against his feelings for a regular human. Can the two of them survive and find happiness together, or will these obstacles tear them apart forever?
View MoreRed hot annoyance simmered beneath the surface of Marcus's face as he practically dragged Vivienne away from Damien. Luckily she was quite adept at noticing his moods, and simply followed along meekly, not putting up a fight as he led her across the room. Her high hels clicked against the marble floor, before becoming muffled by the soft carpet that covered the exit corridors. As they crossed the border, Marcus's grip shifted, pressing the hard edges of her bracelet into her skin. Vivienne hissed, more out of surprise than actual pain. Marcus, who had all this while been too wrapped up in his thoughts, suddenly halted at the sound. He turned around and looked her over with concern. "Are you okay? Did that bastard-" "I'm fine," she stopped him, and then turned her arm over to show the pale pink imprint left behind by the clear stones. Marcus could tell that they weren't real diamonds, they didn't have the same lustre or the aura of blood that always stuck to precious gems mined in f
After wandering around a bit more, Vivienne finally chose to linger near the walls where someone had set up a gallery. Vivienne wondered if the art pieces were always present, or if they had been set out specifically for the masquerade, decorations meant to adorn the richly decorated space. The artwork seemed to vary widely in style and substance, reflecting the eclectic tastes of the person who had donated them. As she examined the pieces, she couldn't help but be captivated by the wonders that adorned the walls. One particular painting stood out—a masterpiece that seemed to come alive with textured strokes and vivid colours. It depicted a moonlit forest, where shadows and light played in a mesmerizing dance. The impasto technique added depth and dimension, the thick smears of navy and chartreuse making the trees practically leap off the canvas. Vivienne marvelled at the skill of the artist, the brushstrokes revealing a passion and mastery that she was almost envious of. Adjacent to
The grand ballroom of the Red Moon Hotel unfurled before Marcus and Vivienne like a magnetic dream. The air was infused with the heady aroma of flowers, and the soft strains of music enveloped them as they stepped into the heart of the masquerade. The room glittered with the glow of chandeliers, the marble floors catching the streams of light and tossing them back into the air like teardrops. Couples in elaborate masks twirled on the dance floor, creating a scene straight out of a fairytale. Marcus, dressed in his impeccable black suit, kept a protective arm around Vivienne as they entered the enchanting space. Her scarlet gown swirled with each step, and the mask she wore added an air of mystery to her allure. As they surveyed the festivities, Vivienne felt the fingers around her waist tighten with an almost palpable sense of possessiveness, and she bit back a smile. There was her protector, determined to keep her safe in this sea of unknown faces. However, their idyllic entrance w
On the day of the pivotal meeting with Damien, Vivienne decided to indulge in a moment of luxury. The secluded farmhouse had witnessed more than its fair share of tension, but tonight, she wanted to relax. She loved the woods, the smell of petrichor, moss, and fresh-cut wood, but right now she wanted to pretend. She craved a touch of elegance. Something that made her feel powerful and desirable. With those thoughts in mind, she rummaged through her limited wardrobe, eager to find the perfect gown for the occasion. She hadn’t exactly packed her bags with the goal of appearing on a runway, but there were one or two dresses she had hidden at the bottom of her suitcase. Not because she’d planned to wear them, but because they were clothes that she’d bought for herself or been given as gifts, and there was no telling what Liam might do with her belongings once she was out of the way. The man seemed to lack object permanence, where if his wife wasn’t in visible vici
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of unspoken tension, a palpable silence hanging heavy in the air between Vivienne and Marcus. It wasn't the kind of silence born out of anger or resentment; rather, it was a quiet storm of restrained emotions that seemed to swirl around them, growing more and more tumultuous with each passing moment spent without acknowledging the obvious tempest. Marcus had taken to patrolling the perimeter every morning and night, leaving Vivienne alone with her thoughts throughout the day. The haunting echoes of his footsteps as he treaded the familiar path outside the farmhouse became a constant reminder of the walls he erected around his emotions. Vivienne hated it. It reminded her too much of her parents. They’d never argued, but she’d often wished that they had. Coming home to the silent home, afraid to walk through the house for fear that one wrong move would shatter the false peace that mom erected every time dad couldn’t control his fists. Keep your he
The tension that lingered from the previous night seemed to dissipate further as they shared a light-hearted moment, connected by the discovery of unexpected common ground. Vivienne continued flipping through the pages of the tattered romance novel, her eyebrows raised in mock skepticism. "You know, if I were the main character of this story, I would have made a run for it the first night. Kidnapped or not." Marcus chuckled, leaning against the bookshelf. "Oh, trust me, the love interest would have easily caught you, bunny. He’s a shifter too. We’re much faster than humans." “Is that so?” She shot him a haughty glare. "Well, I'd like to think I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Like poison." The look Marcus levelled her with was equal parts amused and disbelieving. "You think an adult shifter wouldn’t be able to smell their food being poisoned?” “Who said anything about food?” Vivienne replied coyly, covering the bottom half of her face with the book an
Vivienne awoke the next morning with a headache, hair stuck to the corner of her mouth, and the uncomfortable sensation that she had done something shameful last night.It didn’t take long for the memories to crash upon her like a tidal wave, bringing with it the taste of Marcus’s tongue in her mouth, the feel of his hands wrapping around her thighs to manhandle her like she was little more than a doll. The weight of his body trapping her against the car-seat, their panting breaths fogging up the window and making it abundantly clear was had been happening inside.The way he had held her, crushed her in his embrace, it wasn’t anything she had expected from the stoic, professional veneer Marcus wore. Last night he had been the one to cross the lines, to tear off the mask to reveal a yawning chasm if insatiable hunger. If that car hadn’t driven past, he definitely would have…A whine escaped Vivienne’s lips as she clapped her h
The tension had escalated until Marcus, unable to bear the strain any longer, made a decision that surprised even himself. In a sudden, sharp motion, he jerked the car to a halt on the side of the deserted road. The black tires screeched against the asphalt, and the vehicle shuddered to a stop. Vivienne's eyes, still glowing with rage, went wide. Her body, briefly airborne and cradled safely by the seatbelts, came down hard on the leather cushions. There was no time for her to recover as she was immediately pressed back against the car door with Marcus looming over her. The abrupt stop had caught her off guard, and now her pulse raced with a mixture of fear and defiance that he could smell rising off her skin. Mingled with the scent of his clothes and the racing of her pulse, it was an intoxicating combination. “Marcus?” The man towered over her with his broad muscular chest. He stares down at you sternly with his deep brown eyes, his solid arms stretched acr
The car cruised along the main road, the engine providing a low humming backdrop to the song of bullfrogs and crickets singing in the trees. Marcus allowed himself to enjoy the moment of calm as mentally he counted down the seconds until Vivienne – figuratively chewing on the meeting and pathologically unable to contain her curiosity for an extended period of time – unleashed a storm of questions. To the man’s surprise, she lasted a good five seconds longer than he had expected. The car actually made it a few yards from the edge of the forest before the interrogation began. "Alright, ‘fess up,” the woman twistedaround in her seat to pin him with a scowl, dark eyes searching his face for any hint of evasiveness. “What the hell was all that? How do you know the Warrens and the Apollyon Organization? And who is Amy?" The barrage came quick and fast, hitting like stones being flung from from a well-trained trained sling. Marcus puffed out a sigh, glancin
Although being an actress certainly had its share of perks, the downsides tended to be far more harrowing. Mostly because they had the tendency to be broadcast throughout the world. There was hardly such thing as personal privacy when one wrong move could get your name and face plastered on every gossip column this side of the west. The high life was a dream, but a fragile one. Appearances were everything, and secrets were the ropes that bound them up. Vivienne knew that better than most because she was hiding several ugly little truths of her own.Like right now. Vivienne Hardison pushed open the door of her manager’s office to a sight that stopped her dead in her tracks. Biting back the gasp in her throat, she braced herself against the expected wave of sadness and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb of her manager’s office; arms folded loosely across her chest as she watched cinema’s newest up-and-coming star bounce away on his lap. From this angle, Vivienne couldn’t see his fac...
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