The city glittered like a jewel at midnight, skyscrapers glowing in silver and gold, yet beneath the shine was blood, sweat, and whispered betrayals.
The fashion world was ruthless, and Joan Winter had learned that nothing beautiful came without a price.
She stood at the edge of a rooftop terrace, crimson silk wrapped around her curves like a second skin.
The wind teased her long curls, carrying the muffled bass of the gala below. Tonight was supposed to be about celebration a showcase of elegance, wealth, and power. But Joan knew better.
Behind every designer gown and champagne toast lurked daggers waiting to strike.
Her reflection shimmered faintly in the glass railing: tired eyes rimmed with defiance, lips painted in the shade of sin. She looked like a woman who had everything success, admiration, desire.
But in reality? She was standing in the ruins of trust, caught in the crossfire of a family feud that wasn't even hers to begin with.
"Running away already?"
The deep voice came from behind, velvet laced with steel. Joan didn't need to turn to know it was Lewis Wells
Her fingers tightened on the railing. "I'm not running," she replied coolly, though her voice betrayed the storm inside. "I'm… catching my breath."
Lewis stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. The faint scent of cedar and expensive whiskey curled around her, making her pulse betray her icy mask.
His tie was undone; his shirt collar slightly open, a man who commanded rooms but looked as though he'd just survived a war. Maybe he had business was just another battlefield.
"You should be careful," he murmured, lowering his head so his lips nearly brushed her ear. "In this world, weakness is blood in the water. Sharks will devour you whole."
Her heart thudded violently. "Then maybe I'll learn to bite back."
He chuckled, dark and low. "Careful, kitten. You might just wound me."
She turned, eyes locking with his. For a fleeting moment, she saw something unguarded in his gaze longing, or was it regret? But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by the steel mask he always wore.
Lewis's gaze was a mirror, and it showed her everything she wanted to forget.
"You should be careful," he murmured, stepping closer, his tie undone, his voice hoarse with something darker than desire. "Weakness, its blood in the water. And you, Joan, you bleed too easily."
Her lips curved though her heart hammered. "Then maybe you should ask yourself why you're always the one circling."
The corner of his mouth twitched, fury and want colliding in his eyes. The air between them thickened too close, too raw, too dangerous.
Then—a scream shattered the night. Glass breaking, Chaos spilling from the ballroom below.
Lewis seized her wrist, heat searing her skin. "Stay close."
But Joan didn't move. Because that scream wasn't just noise it was the sound of fate snapping its thread, pulling her into the next storm.
Her past had carved her.Her present was testing her.And her future? It was standing before her, jaw clenched, eyes burning, and a man she both craved and despised.
This was no love story.This was war, dressed in silk, stitched with betrayal, and painted in blood.
HEY GUYS,
THIS BOOK WAS MY FIRST BOOK, I WENT AS {SHY WRITER} AND THE BOOK WAS {LOVE'S SECOND CHANCE}, BUT I RE READ IT AND CRINGED AT MY MISTAKES SO I REEDITED IT AND ADDED SOME MORE. ALSO THANKS FOR READING.
LOVE, LOVE, MORE LOVE