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My Obsessed Billionaire Stepbrothers

By day, I’m Aurelia, endlessly tormented. by my two stepbrothers. They should be off-limits, forbidden, yet every teasing comment, every touch that lingers a little too long, is a spark that sets off flames of my unrequited crush on them. When a mysterious invitation to work at a secretive VIP club comes my way, I think it’s my chance to escape. But the club is a darker world than I imagined. Here, I don’t merely submit; I’m masked, displayed on a stage, to be used, savored, devoured by men coated in power and sin. What happens when the stepbrothers who plague my thoughts claim the woman behind the scarlet mask, ignorant that it’s me they’re touching, tasting, conquering? That is before ’He’ comes along, the club’s mysterious owner, a dark prince who knows exactly how to tie a girl up in knots—both literally and figuratively. His eyes watch me from the shadows, always hungry, always wanting more than just a stage performance. His twisted fantasies should scare me, but they only pull me closer into his all consuming darkness. But when my mask slips and my identity is almost exposed, the dark prince of the club becomes an obsessive hunter. He’s not just after my submission; he wants to unmask my soul, rip out my heart, and claim it as his own. Now, I’m caught between my stepbrothers, who know my darkest secrets, and a wicked prince whose dark desires should terrify me, but don’t. It’s a sick, twisted tale of love and possession, but one question remains: who’ll own me when the clock strikes 12?

naansiringson · Urbain
Pas assez d’évaluations
137 Chs

CHAPTER 101

Aurelia

I slowly follow him behind whilst everyone downstairs stares at me like I'm about to get a scolding.

He takes me to an office. Leonard probably established it for him so he's had where to be coming to whilst in the warehouse. He sits behind the desk and folds his hands on the desk.

The first thing I noticed was how sleek everything looked—cold, almost. The walls were painted a stark white, and the furniture was all modern and angular, with sharp edges that matched the tone of the room. It was a far cry from the cozy, cluttered space he used to have when we were together.

The desk, positioned perfectly in the center of the room, was practically bare, save for a slim laptop and a neat stack of papers. It was all so... sterile. I couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. There was no trace of joy here. This place was almost too polished like it was trying to make a statement about who he is.