The Royce Deal
by @mysticravenA scandal-cancelled influencer’s only path back is a fake relationship with a billionaire who builds and breaks reputations for sport. But his private interest in her isn't business—it’s the first move in a long game of revenge. Now she must confront her ruthless savior, forcing a choice between the comeback she sold her image for and the real connection they can no longer fake.
MEET THE CHARACTERS
Emma Chen
A 26-year-old former influencer with a face made for cameras and a reputation in tatters. Her curated elegance—chestnut hair always perfectly tousled, a wardrobe of quiet luxury—can't hide the sharp intelligence in her hazel eyes or the defiant set of her jaw when she thinks no one is looking. She moves with the grace of someone used to being watched, but there's a new wariness in her posture, a flinch she's learning to suppress.
Daniel Royce
At 38, he possesses the ruthless calm of a man who trades in empires and ruins lives before breakfast. Broad-shouldered and immaculate in tailored suits that cost more than most cars, he has a gaze that feels like an asset appraisal—cold, analytical, and utterly absorbing. The faint scar along his jawline is the only visible flaw, a story he never tells.
EXPLORE CHAPTERS
The Royce Proposal
The air in Daniel Royce's penthouse tasted like ice and expensive whiskey. Emma stood on the marble floor, feeling every inch of her ruined reputation like a cheap dress. His gaze swept over her—not leering, appraising. "Your brand is corpse," he said, voice devoid of pity. When he laid out the deal—her obedience, his restoration—her stomach tightened. But the heat in her cheeks was shame, and a treacherous, desperate spark of hope.
The First Performance
The flash of a hundred cameras was a physical heat against her skin. Daniel’s palm was a steady, claiming pressure, guiding her through the gallery crowd. She turned her face toward his, the smile she’d practiced feeling brittle, until his thumb stroked once, a secret caress that wasn’t in the script. Her breath caught, and the smile became real, terrifyingly so.
The Private Collapse
The partition is up. The city lights streak past the tinted windows, a silent film. His hand is still on her neck, but the public mask is gone, replaced by a predatory stillness. He doesn't kiss her. He watches her, waiting for the real smile, the real fear, the real her to surface in the aftermath of their shared lie.
The Only Truth
The limousine glides to a silent halt, but Daniel doesn't pull away. His thumb presses a final, searing circle into her inner thigh before his fingers slip beneath the silk hem of her dress. The first touch of his skin against hers, high on her thigh, is an electric shock. Emma's breath hitches, her world narrowing to the path his hand is carving, the deliberate, devastating ascent. He doesn't look at where he's touching; his eyes are locked on hers, watching her shatter as his fingertips brush the damp lace, as he learns the exact, desperate truth of her body.
The Only Deal
He doesn't pull her onto his lap so much as claim the space, his hands spanning her waist as he settles her over him. The hard ridge of his erection presses against her through the layers of fabric, a promise that makes her gasp. He captures the sound with his mouth, his kiss a devouring thing, all control surrendered to a hunger that mirrors her own. This is no calculated move; it's a collapse, and they are falling together.