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Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon

Chapter 8 

Word Count: 704    |    Released on: 27/05/2026

locks, the sounds of the city fading

that," Julian said fi

emed less like a threat now, more like a

His Dodge Challenger was parked under a flickering streetlamp. "Car's

the sidewalk, watching him as he leaned over the engine. His back was to her, hi

ked again, but this time, she

, yellow light, his face was all sharp angles and sha

a violent splash of purple and blue against his

reached out, her fingers hovering just above the injured

dark and intense, burned into hers. "Does it bother you, Chlo

ed my number. You wanted nothing to do with me." It wasn't an ac

rced through

isper. "You scared me." She met his gaze, for

through her chest. She saw something in h

king the connection. "You should go," he said, h

n't want to go. The sight of his pain, his raw vulnerability, and the memory of his pro

?" she asked, stepping forwar

es gave him away. They were dark with a desperat

eeded. Chloe rose on her toes

arms came around her, pulling her tight against him. His mouth crushed down on hers, no

ns she should run, they all turned to dust. His hands slid under her shirt, his palms hot against the cool skin of her back. The touch was

eathed, her lips b

a, her fear-none of it ma

d against his ear, the words

rms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. He placed her gently in the passenger seat of the Dodge.

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Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon
Trading Passion With The Ruthless Tycoon
“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?"”