Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon

Chapter 4

Word Count: 609 | Released on: 27/05/2026

chairs, their faces masks of annoyance at the

eating to the far corner of the room. Her body was trembling s

air stood in

carpets and dark wood paneling of the club. He looked like he belonged on a different plane

of disappointment and something else, something fiercely protective that made her skin burn. She couldn't meet hi

ered, straightening his silk tie. "This is a privat

s thigh where he had intended for Chloe to sit.

id. His voice was dangerously calm, yet it carried a

napped up. Wha

with open contempt. "With you? A blue

e was going to ruin it. Panic clawed at

rd herself say, her voice

She saw a flicker of hurt in Julian's eye

ant. "She's here for busine

steps silent and predatory. In one swift motion, he grabbed the front

," Julian said, his

d, trying to pull Julian's arm

n, his eyes boring into hers. "I'm her boyfriend," he said, h

. He grabbed Chloe's wrist, his grip li

, struggling against him, but it w

patrons. As they burst out into the cold night air, she glanced back and saw the fu

ssenger seat of his Dodge Challenger and

the glass, his face a mask of co

k into the restaurant, his ba

didn't look back. She could only watch in horror as he

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon

Sea Quest Romance

“Chloe was drowning in crushing debt and a rare neurological condition that made her skin agonize for a touch she couldn't bear. That was until her mysterious neighbor, Julian, stepped in. He saved her from a predatory client by beating the man half to death, secured her a $20,000 payout, and miraculously cured her tormenting condition with a single, desperate night in her bed. But Julian was dangerous. He drove a Bentley, had the police turning a blind eye to his violence, and hid dark secrets behind a handyman disguise. Terrified by his world and the absolute control he had over her body, Chloe panicked. The morning after he tenderly held her together, she pulled out her checkbook. She handed him a check for $500. "For your service. It was excellent," she said coldly, treating the lethal man like a cheap escort. His vulnerable expression shattered, replaced by a look of profound hurt and ice-cold rage. He slammed her door, vanishing from her life. Almost immediately, her skin began to burn again, and her career stalled. The brutal realization hit her: she had driven away the only person who could anchor her. But why did a man with such immense wealth and power pretend to be a blue-collar worker just to get close to her in the first place? Desperate, she wired him another $500 to force a reaction. Late that night, as she stood nervously at a convenience store counter buying boxes of condoms, a low, triumphant voice whispered in her ear. "Preparing for next time?"”