CEOs in Canada

CEO in New York City

second, third, and fourth times... Then he says we're more than friends, and I feel myself melt. Turns out even a man like him has a heart. It's a shame we can't be together. Because he'll never be able to find out that... He's the father of my child. "How about another drink?" The deep voice sent a shiver down my spine and I looked to my left to see who had spoken. Holy shit. I was face to face with the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. He was tall enough to tower over me, even when I was sitting on a tall bar stool, and his broad shoulders strained against the sports jacket he wore. His thick black hair was swept back from his face, giving me a full view of his dark blue eyes. They watched me with an intensity I'd never seen before, and I was instantly drawn to him. I toyed with the rim of my empty glass. "And...how much would that cost me?" His smile widened. He sat down on the stool next to mine, leaning in close. "Time." He paused, tilting his head. "And sleep." "Sleep?" I raised a questioning eyebrow. "Well, we won't be getting much sleep tonight, so you'll probably be tired in the morning." I couldn't help but blush. Normally, a one-liner like that would have been a huge turn-off, and I would have headed for the door without a backward glance. I'd been approached before, and I was definitely no stranger to men with big... egos, but his confidence seemed well-earned. I could sense there was something... breathtaking about him. The bartender placed a full glass in front of me before taking the empty glass away. Hooking up with a strange man wasn't something I'd planned on doing tonight; in fact, it wasn't something I'd done before or intended to do. I could feel the refusal I'd prepared dying in my throat. I'd been working so hard, for God's sake! I deserved to go out and have some fun for a change. "Convince me." I accepted the drink, feeling quite bold, like some kind of femme fatale. He raised an eyebrow in amusement and gave me a 'I guess looking at me would be enough' gesture. "Well, you're attractive," I admitted. "And so far you seem nice, but I don't know you." "What better way to get to know someone than to get naked and explore each other?" "Maybe, I don't know... a name first?" He chuckled, his rich baritone sending a wave of desire through me. Those deep eyes gleamed as he leaned in close. "Jonah." "Hi, Jonah. I'm Naomi." Jonah's eyes softened and he reached out to take my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Naomi." The way his mouth enveloped my name made my entire body flush. "There, now we've met. So let's finish our drinks, go out together, and spend several pleasant hours discovering each other." I had to admit, this all sounded pretty amazing. As the collar of his jacket moved, I could see the hint of a tattoo.

Billionaire Rock Star

lights blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. I close my eyes, trying to block it all out. But I can't. I can't escape the betrayal. I can't escape the pain. I reach for the bottle again, the glass heavy in my hand. I take another sip, this time straight from the bottle, feeling the liquor slide down my throat. I welcome the pain. I deserve it. I was too blind to see the signs. Too stupid to realize what was happening right under my nose. For over six damn months. My boiling anger boils over, a white-hot rage. I throw the bottle across the room, the glass shattering into a million pieces. The sound echoes through the suite, a sharp contrast to the silence. I sink back onto the couch, the leather creaking beneath my weight. I'm alone now, surrounded by shards of glass and broken promises. But I don't care. I'm here to drink, to escape, to vent my anger. And no one, not even Cassandra or Ace, can stop me. I'm a volcano about to erupt. My eyes land on one of my guitars, sitting in the corner, a silent witness to my pain. It's a custom Gibson Les Paul, as dark as my mood. I walk over to it furiously, gripping it by the neck, the smooth wood familiar beneath my fingers. My reflection stares back at me from the shiny surface. Dark hair a little too long, a dark beard shadowing my jaw, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. Dark eyes glower at me. My arms, muscled from years of playing guitar and working out, flex as I lift the instrument. The leather bracelets on my wrists, a constant fixture, stand out against my tattooed arm and highlight my long, strong fingers. The tattoo on my right arm, an intricate design of a phoenix rising from the ashes, seems to mock me. I'm not rising from anything right now. I'm drowning. With a sudden roar, I slam the guitar against the wall. The sound of cracking wood and snapping strings echoes through the room, a symphony of destruction. I watch as pieces of the guitar scatter across the floor, a mirror image of my heart and soul. I turn to the bar, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The glasses are lined in neat rows, their crystal surfaces glinting in the soft light. I pick one up, the delicate stem breaking between my fingers. Another follows, then another, the sound of glass breaking a harsh melody in the silence. My chest heaves, my heart slamming against my ribs. I look around the room at the destruction I've caused. The shattered guitar, the broken glasses, the chaos. It's a reflection of my life, the mess I'm in. And for the first time, I admit it to myself. Cassandra and I haven't exactly been on good terms for a while. She was selfish, difficult, always putting herself first. She was a beast in bed, which probably blinded me. But I was the one making all the sacrifices, the one trying to make things work. The one with the big money, supporting.

Billionaire's Seduction

Paris! My first morning in Paris! I almost whirl into a dance, but I catch myself as I step out of my suite. The golden light of the Parisian morning filters through the tall windows of the George V Hotel, casting a warm glow on the marble floors. I step into the grand lobby, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. I'm really here-Paris! The city of love, art, and endless possibilities. I head to the reception desk, where a kind-faced, silver-haired man in an impeccably pressed uniform stands ready to help. His name tag reads "Henri." My brother Simon mentioned that Henri was the best concierge in Paris. As I approach, he gives me a polite nod and a warm smile. "Good morning, Mademoiselle Sinclair. You look lovely, my dear. How may I be of assistance today?" "Good morning, Henri!" I can't help but smile back at him. "Would you please arrange for a hotel driver, a car? I'm heading to the Louvre this morning. I've decided that my first day of exploring has to be there, and I can't wait to take in all its treasures." Henri's smile widens, and he nods approvingly. "Ah, the Louvre. An excellent choice for your first day. You will find it truly magnificent. Just a moment, mademoiselle." He picks up his phone and makes a quick call. Within moments, he confirms that a hotel car will be arriving shortly. As I wait, I glance around the lobby, taking in the opulent ambiance. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting sparkling reflections on the polished surfaces. Elegant, plush furnishings invite guests to relax and linger. The air is filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the soft clink of fine china from the nearby dining room. It's like stepping into a dream. I turn to Henri, who's now watching me with friendly curiosity. "How's your brother, the esteemed Simon Sinclair?" he asks. "Busy conquering the world, as usual." I laugh. I love my brother so much, and of course Henri would know him, or know of him. Simon seems to know everyone, or everyone knows him, I reflect, from governors, film directors, and captains of industry to the best concierge in Paris. "And is this your first time here, mademoiselle?

CEO and Money

cloudy glass, whose windshield was trying uselessly to clear it, was something that had stayed with me for five years. Almost every night, that nightmare was my greatest companion. Except that, when I woke up, I didn't feel the relief of not being in my reality. On the contrary... the empty bed was proof enough that the death of two people so important in my life was not an illusion. I was the one who caused that death. It was my fault and no one else's. I always knew I was a controlling son of a bitch, and I fought day after day not to suffocate Taís with my temper. She was never submissive, not at all, and that was what I loved most about her personality, although it was a fetish of mine in bed that my wife had never been able to fulfill. Maybe, that day, I should have let my fucking control freak take over and locked her in the house to stop her from leaving. Much less taking our son with her. Or maybe I shouldn't have followed them, swearing I would be protecting them. That the best option was to try to bring her back home. Taís was no longer happy. She never wanted marriage. Pregnancy had led her to agree to our union, but she was too young. I had convinced her, and nothing would ever make me regret it so much again. Being a father was my dream. It still was, in fact. I hadn't expected to have a child only to lose him less than a year later. He would have been six by then. He would have been running around at that party, just like the beautiful little girl in the pink dress whose parents had already scolded her more than once. I hated parties like that, where all that reigned was hypocrisy. Where people looked at me as if I were watching each one of them to write down any little mistake on my list of future dismissals. So, a breath of fresh air like that, the sound of a child's laughter, her mischievous manner... all of that almost made me smile. Almost. The little girl was probably the daughter of one of my employees. I couldn't say for sure, because I wasn't exactly attentive to their personal lives. What really mattered to me was their performance within the office. I used to be a little more sociable – but only a little – but after Taís died, I literally closed myself off from the world. At the office, I was known as Iron Man; I was just as controlling as I was in my personal life. People didn't know that this information was passed on to me, but unfortunately for them, the only person who had any access to me was my secretary, and she would tell me this with a laugh. I didn't find the nickname that funny, although her laugh was adorable. By the way, she was at the party. She was very pretty – that was what I could see from a distance.

Evil boss

name is Remi, aka Rogue Angel, and I normally work for a security company testing client systems. But now a shadowy villain has tracked me down and given me an ultimatum. I have to hack Rivera Tech-the largest tech company in the world, owned by billionaire CEO Maverick Rivera. If I do this, I'll get paid and I'll be able to help my adoptive mother. If I don't, my family will be in danger. Hacking Rivera is no walk in the park, and I soon find myself in a tantalizing game of cat and mouse with the big, bad-tempered, sexy Maverick. What I never, ever expected was for him to make me feel safe, or threaten my closely guarded heart, or set every part of me on fire. I can't drag him into my mess. But Maverick has other ideas, and he's not a man who takes no for an answer. ANGEL DEROGUES TO Remi "Oh, you think you can keep me out? Not today." My fingers danced over my keyboard. It glowed, each keystroke barely making a sound. I'd paid a small fortune for the keyboard and laptop. They were my babies. I'd already mapped out the target system. Its cybersecurity was good, but not great. I knew I'd set off some alarm, so they knew I was snooping around. "But no one can stop Rogue Angel." With a grin, I stared at the glowing screen, scanning the code. I tapped a command. Woot. I was in. I shifted my ass in my chair. Time to finish this. I zoomed in on the system, found the file I needed, and made a copy. Time to go. I left my signature image behind-glowing blue angel wings made of computer code. Smiling, I leaned back and flexed my hands. Then I buffed my nails on my shirt and blew on them. I was a hacker, so I kept my nails short and manicured, but I loved painting them. Right now, they were a bright, blinding yellow. Then I opened a new window and made a call. My boss appeared on the screen. I took a second to take in the view-Killian Hawke was worth a second or two of appreciation. The man always made me think of a sharp blade, with precision. He was lean, with an aquiline face, black hair, black eyes. Those eyes were sharp and missed nothing. He wore a black suit, even though it was Sunday-I'd never seen him in anything else. Even on the computer screen, he radiated a predatory danger that made my hindbrain go very, very quiet. "Done," I said. "Check your inbox." The head of Sentinel Security glanced to his left and nodded. "Well done, Remi. Impressive, as always." Damn, the man had the sexiest voice. Like melted hot chocolate with a hint of spice. It didn't quite match his sleek, dangerous persona. "Our client will be very happy," Killian said. "Happy that I hacked them?" Happy that they know their vulnerabilities and how Sentinel Security can help eliminate them. And pay Killian a billion dollars for his work. Sentinel did all sorts of security. I knew Killian had a private army of ex-military badasses, but he also specialized in cybersecurity. I'd been working for Sentinel for several years. Companies hired me to test their systems and improve their security. It was a good business. I used

Billionaire & CEO

happy," Killian said. "Happy that I hacked them?" Happy that they know their vulnerabilities and how Sentinel Security can help eliminate them. And pay Killian a billion dollars for his work. Sentinel did all sorts of security. I knew Killian had a private army of ex-military badasses, but he also specialized in cybersecurity. I'd been working for Sentinel for several years. Companies hired me to test their systems and improve their security. It was a good business. I used my special skills and got a paycheck at the end of each month. "I'll email you your next job, Remi." The slightest tilt of Killian's lips. "Or should I say, Rogue Angel?" I smiled. "You're not supposed to know my secret identity." "I work security, remember?" "Bye, Bossman." I ended the conversation, closed my laptop, and glanced at the clock. The kids would be home from school soon, and my stomach growled. Mmm, I could use some of Mama's cookies. I walked around my loft space. It wasn't big, but it was mine. It had an industrial vibe, with my bed in one corner, shrouded in sheer curtains. A small kitchen that I barely used was in another corner, a door leading to my compact bathroom, and an open-plan living area where my desk sat in prime position against the opposite wall. My gaze settled on a photo above the desk. I got a little shiver every time I saw it. It was of an angel warrior, coming in to land on the battlefield. I had a thing for angels. His huge white wings were spread, sword in hand, boots about to touch the ground. His body was mostly in shadow, but that didn't hide the power of his musculature, or the hint of a rugged face. Wrinkling my nose, I sighed. I wished they made men like that in real life. I walked down the stairs, my boots thumping on the metal steps. The noise assaulted me. There was some tool whirring nearby, and I also grabbed a supply of grease, gas, and exhaust. My loft was above my foster brother's auto shop. At the bottom of the stairs, I turned and saw three cars in various states of disrepair-one parked with the hood open, one hooked up to some machine, and another on a hoist with a mechanic underneath. I recognized Steve's thin frame and baggy, dingy jeans. He was busy, and the guy who worked for him was on vacation, so I guess that was why he was working on a Sunday. I walked out the open front doors. Brr. It was a cold, gloomy day in Brooklyn. I wrapped my arms around myself. I should have grabbed my jacket, but thankfully I wasn't going far. I walked to the house next to the two-story brick house and opened the gate. The metal creaked. The house had a basement apartment, where Steve lived with his four-year-old daughter, Kaylee. I ran up the steps to the main house and opened the door. "Hello!" "We're here," a female voice said. I found Mama Alma in the kitchen. Of course, where else would she be? Kaylee was on the floor having a tea party with her dolls and bears. "Remi!" The little blonde princess jumped up and ran to me. I picked her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around me. I breathed in her apple-scented shampoo. "Hey, KayKay. Are you being good to Mama?" Kaylee smiled and nodded. Then she squirmed and I set her down on the floor to go back to her tea party guests. Mama smiled and I walked over to kiss her thin, dark cheek. She smelled like home. For the first eight years of my life, I didn't know what that word meant. Then the angels smiled on me and sent an angry little girl to a foster home run by Mama. She had owned this house in Sunset Park, Brooklyn for years. The small warehouse next door was her husband's. Unable to have children of their own, they became foster parents. Big Mike had died a year before I arrived, but Alma had never stopped opening her home. And some of us hadn't really left. I would be twenty-seven on my next birthday, and I hadn't gone very far. Steve had been one of Mama's first foster children. Kaylee was Steve's daughter, but Mama still had three children with her-two boys, ages nine and ten, and a teenage girl. "I'll pour us some tea," Mama said. I sank into the chair at the rickety table. The kitchen hadn't changed in decades. "I'd rather have a shot of bourbon to celebrate. I just finished a job." Mama made a sound in her throat. "We don't have bourbon in this house." I picked up a cookie from the plate on the table. Mmm. Chocolate chip, my favorite. She set a teacup in front of me. Mama loved collecting the flowery, delicate teacups at outdoor markets. None of them matched. Like my family, Mama always told me. When I finished my cookie, I studied Mama-she looked tired and her face was drawn. I grimaced. Mama always said she was a mix of the best-African-American, a dash of Hispanic, and a bit of hardy Irish stock. I guess that's why I liked her at first sight-I was a mix, too. Mostly Hispanic, though I had no idea who my parents were. I probably had an African-American ancestor somewhere in the tree, too, and a few other things-who knows what-crept in.

The Heiress' Revenge: Abandoned No More

Sandra Hill, the long-lost real heiress of the Hill family, was shunned by her own kin. Instead of embracing her, they bestowed their affection upon an impostor. They even arranged her to marry a vegetative man in place of her so-called “sister”. Sandra sneered, refusing to put up with this humiliation, cut off ties with the Hill family immediately and ran into the flash marriage with Wesley Cooper, her unconscious billionaire husband. With her incredible medical skills, she defied the odds and revived him. Little did she expect that her husband spoiled her with all his love... A medical genius, a computer prodigy, a national treasure in painting, and a racing legend... Her husband revealed her various identities, leaving the Hill family regretful. Her father came pleading, "It's Dad's fault. Please come back." Her mother wept, "Mom will protect you from now on. Please come back." Even her five brothers knelt before he, begging for forgiveness. Yet, Sandra's smile held a hint of mockery as she vowed, “Never!”

Addicted To The Genius Lady With A Thousand Faces

She was a world-renowned divine doctor, the CEO of a publicly traded company, the most formidable female mercenary, and a top-tier tech genius. Marissa, a titan with a plethora of secret identities, had hidden her true stature to marry a seemingly impoverished young man. However, on the eve of their wedding, her fiance, who was actually the lost heir to a wealthy dynasty, called off the engagement and subjected her to degradation and mockery. Upon the revelation of her concealed identities, her ex-fiance was left stunned and desperately pleaded for her forgiveness. Standing protectively before Marissa, an incredibly influential and fearsome magnate declared, "This is my wife. Who would dare try to claim her?"

The Masked Heiress: Don't Mess With Her

Yelena discovered that she wasn't her parents' biological child. After seeing through their ploy to trade her as a pawn in a business deal, she was sent away to her barren birthplace. There, she stumbled upon her true origins—a lineage of historic opulence. Her real family showered her with love and adoration. In the face of her so-called sister's envy, Yelena conquered every adversity and took her revenge, all while showcasing her talents. She soon caught the attention of the city's most eligible bachelor. He cornered Yelena and pinned her against the wall. "It's time to reveal your true identity, darling."

I'm Divorcing with You, Mr Billionaire!

I received a pornographic video. "Do you like this?" The man speaking in the video is my husband, Mark, whom I haven't seen for several months. He is naked, his shirt and pants scattered on the ground, thrusting forcefully on a woman whose face I can't see, her plump and round breasts bouncing vigorously. I can clearly hear the slapping sounds in the video, mixed with lustful moans and grunts. "Yes, yes, fuck me hard, baby," the woman screams ecstatically in response. "You naughty girl!" Mark stands up and flips her over, slapping her buttocks as he speaks. "Stick your ass up!" The woman giggles, turns around, sways her buttocks, and kneels on the bed. I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice water on my head. It's bad enough that my husband is having an affair, but what's worse is that the other woman is my own sister, Bella. ************************************************************************************************************************ “I want to get a divorce, Mark,” I repeated myself in case he didn't hear me the first time—even though I knew he'd heard me clearly. He stared at me with a frown before answering coldly, "It's not up to you! I'm very busy, don't waste my time with such boring topics, or try to attract my attention!" The last thing I was going to do was argue or bicker with him. "I will have the lawyer send you the divorce agreement," was all I said, as calmly as I could muster. He didn't even say another word after that and just went through the door he'd been standing in front of, slamming it harshly behind him. My eyes lingered on the knob of the door a bit absentmindedly before I pulled the wedding ring off my finger and placed it on the table. I grabbed my suitcase, which I'd already had my things packed in and headed out of the house.

Burning Passion: Love Never Dies

“Drive this woman out!” "Throw this woman into the sea!” When he doesn’t know Debbie Nelson’s true identity, Carlos Hilton cold-shoulders her. “Mr. Hilton, she is your wife,” Carlos’ secretary reminded him. Hearing that, Carlos gives him a cold stare and complained, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?” From then on, Carlos spoils her rotten. Little did everyone expect that they would get a divorce.

That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King's Captive Slave Mate.

They don't know I'm a girl. They all look at me and see a boy. A prince. Their kind purchase humans like me for their lustful desires. And, when they stormed into our kingdom to buy my sister, I intervened to protect her. I made them take me too. The plan was to escape with my sister whenever we found a chance. How was I to know our prison would be the most fortified place in their kingdom? I was supposed to be on the sidelines. The one they had no real use for. The one they never meant to buy. But then, the most important person in their savage land-their ruthless beast king-took an interest in the "pretty little prince." How do we survive in this brutal kingdom, where everyone hates our kind and shows us no mercy? And how does someone, with a secret like mine, become a lust slave? . AUTHOR'S NOTE. This is a dark romance-dark, mature content. Highly rated 18+ Expect triggers, expect hardcore. If you're a seasoned reader of this genre, looking for something different, prepared to go in blindly not knowing what to expect at every turn, but eager to know more anyway, then dive in! . From the author of the international bestselling book: "The Alpha King's Hated Slave."