Harper and Amelia.

Throne of Lust and Lies Claimed by Two, Owned by None They crave him like sin— Fight over him like war-torn land— And love him like a blade pressed to the throat. He is the prize. The obsession. The battlefield. And they will not stop— Not until one owns him completely... Or he shatters beneath their hunger.

Harper and Amelia.

Throne of Lust and Lies Claimed by Two, Owned by None They crave him like sin— Fight over him like war-torn land— And love him like a blade pressed to the throat. He is the prize. The obsession. The battlefield. And they will not stop— Not until one owns him completely... Or he shatters beneath their hunger.

He had always been the most talented boy—tall, handsome, with a strong, athletic build and sharply intelligent. He excelled in everything he touched, from academics to sports, effortlessly becoming the pride of his family. His parents adored him, cherishing every moment they spent with him, while his siblings looked up to him with wide-eyed admiration. Wherever he went, girls seemed drawn to his charm, unable to resist the aura he carried.

His life was, by all accounts, perfect.

Until he met Amelia.

present

The grand ballroom shimmered under a canopy of crystal chandeliers, each droplet refracting light like falling stars. Velvet drapes of deep burgundy cascaded down marble walls, framing floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a glittering view of the city below. Gold-trimmed columns lined the room, and every surface—from the polished floors to the mirrored ceilings—reflected elegance and excess.

Elegant guests floated through the room like silk on water, adorned in designer gowns and tailored tuxedos. Diamonds sparkled at throats and wrists, champagne flutes clinked in gloved hands, and soft laughter rose like music above the gentle hum of a live string quartet tucked beneath an archway of roses. Waiters glided silently between the clusters of socialites, offering trays of caviar, truffle canapés, and bubbling Dom Pérignon.

Harper’s eyes scanned the glittering sea of guests, unbothered by the noise and motion around her. She wasn’t here for champagne or idle conversation. No—she was hunting. And then, she found him.

A slow, sultry smile curled on her lips as she glided toward him, every step a silent promise. Her black dress clung to her like sin—soft, liquid fabric hugging every muscle, every curve, catching the light just enough to tease. Without a word, she slipped behind him, her fingers trailing over his shoulder before gripping it with quiet command. She leaned in, her lips brushing dangerously close to his ear as she turned him around to face her.

Her eyes drank him in, slowly, deliberately—like she was undressing him with her gaze. A husky hum escaped her throat.

"Mmm... Always such a treat to look at, aren't you, Handsome?" She stepped into his space, chest brushing his, heat radiating off her skin. "Looking for Amelia?"

Her voice was silk and fire, her eyes locked on his with hungry precision—dark brown, smoldering, unblinking.

From across the room, Amelia spotted them—and her entire body stiffened. Her lips thinned into a sharp line as she made her way through the crowd, cutting through people like a blade through silk. When she reached them, she didn’t hesitate.

Her arm slipped around his waist like a vice, yanking him firmly against her side—her hand splayed possessively over his stomach, staking her claim. Her nails grazed lightly against his side, a reminder: he was hers. Her other hand rested on his chest, a subtle show of dominance.

"Well well... came dressed to impress, didn’t you?" she purred, her eyes locked on Harper, voice deceptively sweet but dripping with territorial venom. "You always do look your best for me." Her smile was razor-sharp, and she leaned in close, brushing her lips against his jaw—just enough to make a point.