All Chapters of Executive Seduction : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Harper stood in front of the enormous mirror in her room, eyeing the clothes spread across the bed like they were landmines. Dresses, skirts, designer jeans, shoes that probably cost more than her rent—all ridiculously expensive, all courtesy of Eros.She ran her fingers through the silky fabric of one dress, letting out a soft whistle. “Jeez, I didn’t sign up to be a celebrity.” The red dress shimmered under the light, clinging to her fingers like liquid satin. It had a plunging neckline and a slit high enough to make her reconsider her life choices. “I can’t wear this.”She shifted to the next option—a white tailored blazer and matching trousers. Sleek, powerful, but… boring. Her eyes landed on a black midi dress with delicate lace trim. Simple, classy, but still elegant. Harper nodded to herself. This. This was safe. After tugging it on, she stood back, tilting her head. The dress hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her waist. The lace detail added a

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” Rain's voice rang across the restaurant, causing a few people to turn their heads. “Whatever it looks like.” the masculine voice responded, standing up to eye her and then bend down to the level of the woman sitting next to him and kissed her with their tongue in each other's mouth. Rain felt bile rise up at the back of her throat as she watched in disbelief. “I didn't think you would be so cheap. I almost believed that a pig like you would actually be different but there's no amount of polishing a pig can get, it will always belong in the gutter!” This was her boyfriend of two years. The one who she had thought was different from all the playboys and jokers she had been dating in the past. She believed Julien was different. He cared for her in ways no man had ever done and yet here he was with another lady sitting next to him with no remorse on his face. “You see, that's the problem you have. I couldn't keep up with you not knowing what you want and

The air in the shed felt oppressive, heavy with fear and the sharp tang of blood. Wren’s wrists burned where the metal shackles bit into her skin, her every struggle making them dig deeper. Her chest heaved as she fought to breathe past the taste of sweat and copper in her mouth. Bruises painted her arms and legs in shades of deep purple and sickly yellow, and her ribs screamed with every shallow breath she took. A figure stood before her, a shadow of death cloaked in cold cruelty. His eyes were like shards of ice, piercing and merciless, and his lips curled in a sneer that promised nothing but pain. "And if I put a gun to your head, do I become a bad person?" His voice was low, unhurried, like he was savoring the terror in her wide eyes. Wren flinched as the words hit her, each one slicing through the fragile thread of hope she clung to. She could barely see him through the blood matting her hair and dripping into her eyes, but she didn’t need clear vision to feel his rage and

She lowered the book, staring down at its bold black cover. “You don’t even know what the hell is in this thing,” she muttered under her breath. Her voice was barely audible, but even that felt too loud in the oppressive silence. She flinched, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. No one seemed to. The workers kept moving, heads down, hands busy. But the eerie quiet still pressed in on her. “Okay, Wren,” she whispered to herself, shifting her weight carefully to ease the ache in her bruised ribs. “Be reasonable. Be smart. You can’t die here. Not now.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she forced herself to keep talking. “Play along. Clean floors. Scrub windows. Whatever they want. Just… stay alive.” The cleaning supplies were crude, old-fashioned brushes and rags tossed into a dented metal bucket. Wren grabbed them quickly, her movements stiff and jerky, and dragged them to the nearest corner. Her knees screamed in protest as she crouched down, running the coarse brush

Wren's tiny studio apartment felt more claustrophobic than ever, suffocating her with the weight of impending doom. Clothes were scattered across the bed, half-packed into a battered backpack. She moved with frantic energy, hands shaking as she double-checked her flashlight. Her lips were pressed into a grim line, betraying the dread bubbling beneath her surface.Raya, her best friend, leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, worry etched deep into her features. “Are you sure that’s the best idea, Wren?” she asked cautiously.“I don’t know.” Wren’s voice cracked as she zipped her bag halfway. “But either way, he’s gonna have my head on a plate. I’ve tried everything, Raya. He’s not going to listen to any more excuses.” She shoved a pair of sneakers into the bag with trembling hands. “I can’t just sit here waiting for them to come. Running might be the only shot I have.”Raya sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Wren, this isn’t just some random guy we’re talking about. Thi