Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon

Chapter 6

Word Count: 698 | Released on: 27/05/2026

ing. It was just an address and a time.

was a small, upscale cafe. Directly across the street was a police

He had a black eye and his arm was in a sling. He was accompanied by a lawyer and a uniformed police officer, a man with the name tag "Sullivan." Officer Sullivan walked Berman to the curb, said a few quiet w

Chloe's veins

the cafe. He flinched when he saw Julian. Without a word, he pulled

aid, his voice a hoarse whisper. "And an

rs. Chloe stared at t

ing his eyes, and fled. She didn't stop running until she

hen she deleted it. It was over. Money received, slate wiped clean. She ne

The financial pressure was off, for now. But her contract with Berman was effectively terminated, and she was unem

ions, but the market for high-end industrial designers was comp

head of product development for a new, well-funded wellness brand.

ivot to insertable designs? I'm offering an initial draft fee of fifty thousand. Every revisi

n generous. It was the kind of m

loe he

as a virgin. External toys she could design in he

nsert

knowledge. The kind you couldn't

had one design left on it. She couldn't bre

thout replying and went back

as Leo's nurse, gently reminding her that the payme

home and put the groceries away, the apartment felt suffocating. She looked at the door to 4B across the hall, and a sudden, sharp pang of somethin

Chapter End

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Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon

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“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?"”