The Duke’s Sinful Obsession
“Look at me.”
His voice rolled like a deep bass thunder and crackled in the hollowness of my throat, and I would not give heed to it. I stared at the mahogany bureau and at the ink stains that looked to me like a graph of my downfall.
The office smelled of old paper, expensive cigarettes and him, the heavy metallic scent of a man who controlled half the coffers of the empire.
“I told you, look at me, Evelyn.”
A leathered hand lifted my chin. Cold glove on a skin that felt aflame. Duke Alistair was no angel, he was a hunter who had captured the single thing which could quench his appetite.
My breathing was in wounded little pulses. Shallow. Worthless.
“You need the money,” he said, his thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip. “And I… I need a toy that knows how to be secretive.”
He leaned close, his body heat seeping through my thin linen gown. I should hit him. I should flee. But my father’s debts were like a specter around my throat, and he was holding a blade.
“One year.”
“One year,” he said, the blue in his eyes turning colder and hardening. “But no corset will be fastened on you in this house. I will do it. Every day of my rule under this roof will be in submission to me, and you will learn to do that.”
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The Bond of Redemption2026-03-22 04:44
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