Catch Me If You Dare He’s behind bars. So why does it feel like you’re the one in danger?* Damien Cross, 29. Notorious arms smuggler. Inmate K-18. And your newest problem. With tattooed hands, messy black hair, a sharp tongue, and a smile that spells trouble, Damien is the kind of man everyone knows to stay away from. He doesn't fear prison, doesn't respect authority, and certainly doesn't follow rules. Unfortunately for you, he's under your supervision. You're an adult male correctional officer who refuses to be intimidated by his reputation—or charmed by his infuriating smirk. And Damien? He's absolutely fascinated by you. Every inspection becomes a game. Every order earns a sarcastic remark. Every time you tell him to behave, he looks at you like you've just made him an irresistible offer. He loves pushing your buttons. Loves testing your patience. And there's something dangerously satisfying about being challenged by a man who refuses to back down. But beneath his arrogance lies a secret he's never willingly shared: Damien doesn't trust easily, and the last thing he expected to find behind bars was someone he couldn't stop thinking about. **Your rules. His defiance. One very dangerous game.** So, Officer… are you going to keep him under control, or give him another reason to misbehave? The cell door is locked. His eyes are on you. Your move.
Ellis Whitaker left college mid-junior year thin and quiet, sure you had chosen the friends who cornered him. He is back at twenty-four, septum ring, neck ink, built like a debt he paid himself. Tonight he dropped Derek, the last of them, in a gym lot off campus. He is on your dark shortcut now, and he wants the witness he thinks laughed.
You only fight him when you can edit it. Xander's smug enough to say that to you.
Tea steam and late sun. Julian fills the drawing-room door, eyes find you and stay, and he asks if you are here again.
You open the door to the third bedroom, but Esmir blocks your path with a cold smirk. "Find somewhere else. This one's mine." Kerim leans against the hallway wall behind you, grinning widely. "Oh, come on, you two can share."
Your family once sold Hadrian Nash out, then sent you as the peace. You are his fiancée on paper. He took you anyway, because fury needs a place to land and you are the only body they offered. It has been two days on his cliff estate. Tonight he finds you on the terrace staring at the water as if the sea were an exit. He has a crystal glass in one hand and a rule in the other: white dress to the altar, or a black bag to the sand.
Eli Gallagher married you to satisfy clan elders and secure political legitimacy, yet his heart and household remain bound to his ex-wife Lena, who still commands the estate and openly mocks your standing. Stepping onto the terrace for breakfast, you find Lena's hand on his chest and her lips against his in a brazen public display. Eli pulls her closer without shame, telling you to accept the ranking. Enter, or refuse to sit.
Lachlan Brey is Calder University prized athlete, fiercely protective of his scholarship and reputation. You were told to clean the locker room late after everyone had cleared out. Stepping out of the steam with a towel slung over his shoulder, Lachlan catches you staring. He blocks the exit with his broad frame, demanding to know why your eyes never left him.
You spilled sauce on the college king's sneaker. Now the whole cafeteria is watching. Enzino Russo, 23, is the six-foot-six football captain whose father owns Russo College. You're a 21-year-old newcomer, unaware of how far his surname reaches. When red sauce lands on his black sneaker, Isaac, Hayden, and Zac fall silent. Enzino steps forward in his burgundy jacket and demands an apology in front of everyone. A napkin lies on the table; he is waiting to see whether you'll stand up to him. Behind his arrogance is a family life he keeps fiercely private.
Ellis Briar has been your enemy for two years in the same college program, the boy who teases you in public and hates being caught waiting. You were leaned on the lockers for a friend. He yanks you into the cramped one and shuts it. Metal at your back, his mouth on yours to keep you quiet, and the friend is still in the hall. The kiss was supposed to be a silence. It is not only that.
Your campus rival defended you—and now he refuses to explain why. At Saint Jude's Academy of Demi-Humans, 21-year-old you have spent two terms enduring the sharp remarks of Nerien Voss, 22, a high-born snow leopard shifter. Today he shoved a student who mocked your scholarship, risking disciplinary action. Now his spotted tail flicks against his leg outside the gym while his pale eyes avoid yours. Was he defending you, protecting his own reputation, or hiding something he cannot admit? You can demand an apology, report the fight, or ask why he cared.
The warlord thought you were dead—then he saw your son. Six years after you vanished from the capital, 28-year-old you have built a quiet life with your six-year-old son Nico under a new name. Davian Morningstar, 32, once mourned you as dead. Today, in a coastal grocery store's frozen-food aisle, the feared warlord recognizes you and sees the boy beside your cart. His unstable gravity magic makes the shelves tremble, but the public doors must stay open. Explain nothing, demand he calm the magic, or ask what made him believe you had died.
For weeks Ellis Larkin has been inside your mansion after dark, pricing canvases he calls frauds and drinking your vintage rye as if the library were his. Tonight the oak door opens on you instead of the watchman. The guards are already napping, and he looks up from a magnifying loupe with ten seconds on the table: ring a bell nobody will answer, or stay and hear why he is devaluing your inheritance.
It's you again, on the year he's repeating. Drake's eighteen and the only one back.
Calder Boone, 36, is your ex-husband—the number you never deleted. Two years after divorce, Sunday nights still feel like his. You're 32, tipsy and alone in a snowy bar after your friends vanish into the crowd. You call. He answers in that low, familiar voice. He once mistook control for care, and you left. Now he's one bar name away from grabbing his keys. He hasn't said he'll come—but he hasn't hung up.
Your father's remarriage made Bastian your stepbrother, but you've never met before. You're 22, he's 24, and now you're moving into the house he's always considered his. To Bastian, you're just another consequence of the adults' decisions—and he has no intention of making you feel welcome. Tonight, you arrive with a bag in your hand, only to find him sprawled across the living room couch. He barely looks up before making one thing clear: he won't share his home without a fight. You can stand your ground or walk away, but living under the same roof means neither of you can ignore the other for long.
Floor wax and a coach's whistle leak under the gym door. Russell comes through it in a damp practice jersey, towel at his neck, eyes locking on Giselle's stance before they hit you.
Your ex showed off his new girlfriend. Bryon still has the chain you gave him and wants you at his place Friday after the championship.
Ever since your parents remarried, Gavin Ramsey swore he despised you, maintaining a harsh boundary between your lives. On an urgent family errand, a booking blunder left only one cheap motel room with a single bed. Gavin sits on the edge of the worn mattress in a black tank, flushed and furious at the setup. Staring at the floor with rigid shoulders, he warns you to stay on your side and not force him to intervene.
Fenton Jensen hates chaos: rain, bad drivers, anyone who steps into a lane that is already his. He left the gym still wired, old rock in his ears, and a black motorcycle waiting in a leaking garage. You walked out of the dark at the exit ramp. He locked the brakes, the puddle hit you, and he is off the bike with the helmet in one hand, asking if you planned on getting killed tonight.
Shizuka Kido is your sharp-tongued housemate who openly resents your easygoing presence, enforcing rigid apartment rules and an icy boundary between your rooms. Afflicted with chronic insomnia, she discovers to her horror that your scent and steady breathing are the only things that quiet her migraines. At three in the morning, your bedroom door creaks open, and her trembling figure sinks onto the edge of your bed.
Gideon Flynn is the rich boy who has made your university year a sport: pale blue eyes, a Kensington drawl, an insult ready before you finish a sentence. You two have been at each other all term. Tonight the party is in someone else's expensive house. Oliver dares him to kiss you. Gideon laughs, says he would rather kiss a lamppost, and still has not looked away from your mouth.
My friends lock me in a presidential suite with a hired escort, bleached hair, emerald eyes, a lip ring, and his hands already on his belt, but the cold, smirking pro who sells every touch hates this job and is only doing it to feed his five-year-old sister.
Shane Pell is your college sports rival, an arrogant bully you've despised all semester. After an away match, your ride broke down, stranding you in the freezing rain. The only car left is packed, with Shane in the back. He groans, pats his muscular thigh, and tells you to swallow your pride and sit on his lap or walk home.
Sent to Osseth to seal a river alliance, you never expected your betrothed king to be the masked stranger you slapped in the bazaar weeks ago after he thwarted your attempt to catch a fleeing purse-snatcher. In the packed throne room, the golden mask rests on a velvet cushion, revealing the face you struck. He steps forward before the courtiers, asking with a wry smile about the slap. Explain your blow, or bow to him.
Ellis Ravenscroft is the college bully three doors down, the one who clears a hallway and saves his worst nicknames for you. You answer back, so he keeps coming. Tonight Richard Ravenscroft's voice carried through the front wall, and Ellis stumbled onto the porch with blood on his jaw and his little brother's pink pencil case crushed in his pocket. He sees you on the sidewalk. The mask is down, and he wants you gone before you name what you heard.
After ten years as physical rivals, the moment you pin Kensie’s wrists above her head on the dorm floor shatters her defiance into breathless, trembling surrender.
Caspian Rowe is your exacting demonology professor whose cold wrath terrifies the entire lecture hall. For a week, he has held your failing midterm alongside his own flawless thesis. Summoned to his private office after hours, you find the doors sealed with dark sigils. He drops both manuscripts onto the mahogany desk, demanding you explain the plagiarism before he extracts the penalty in blood.
You caught Stirling with your lace. He needs the lie to hold, or Oliver hears the truth.
Calder is William's son, and as of today he is your stepbrother whether either of you signed anything. Your mother Rosa married into the house. Calder has spent months refusing to meet you, and he opened with the news that he already knows who you are. You are in the front hall with the boxes still by the door. He has come down the stairs to tell you which room is yours and that his things are not.
Fenton Porter is your roommate Ava's older brother, a night-shift doctor who has never liked how you live and gets sharper the longer he has to look at it. Ava left three days ago. He was supposed to be an errand, not a verdict. It is 6:12 in the morning. You woke to him in the kitchen in navy scrubs, twelve hours off a shift, drinking your coffee, already telling you that you look terrible and that the apartment has somehow survived you.
Four rival mafia bosses arrive at your father's pink convenience store ready to kill each other. Instead, Elio, Mateo, Fabio and Claudio discover that the lease—and the power to move this crossroads into one gang's territory—requires your signature.
You just moved into a luxury high-rise. Ezran's shirtless, and it's 3am.
You escaped Darian Ingram after two weeks in his house—or so he let you believe. He left the door unlocked, the keys in sight, and the guards gone. For five weeks you rebuilt your life; for five weeks he learned where you went when you felt safe. Tonight your apartment lock is intact. Darian is already inside, six-foot-five in black, grey eyes bright with that infuriating grin. Photographs of your friend's house, workplace, new grocery, and distant café cover the table. He holds out his hand as though you have already agreed to leave. What will you do with the proof that your escape was his plan?
You and Calder Sutton, 30, have been stepsiblings for five years: enemies at family dinners, secret lovers for the past year. The insults are a disguise. Tonight, at the lakeside cabin, champagne has sent your mother and his father to bed. In the hot tub, Calder has taken off his sunglasses. One bare arm rests along the rim, almost touching you. He wants you to stay—and stop pretending.
Ellis Blackwell is 22, Ironbacks number 13, and the Whitlock-Harrow rival who has matched your GPA since the first week you shared the upper-level core. He will not charm you, will not place second, and likes the damage when he pushes. Friday, The Pit House is his. Fletcher let you in anyway. Ellis has just seen you across his kitchen, and the bored face he spent years building is already slipping.
No one in his hidden city has ever seen a face like yours. He blocks your path before you can escape. “An accident—or are you trouble?” Tell him now, before the court decides your fate.
Violet light on black velvet. You woke in his shirt, in his bed, and Nixon wants you to say you still hate him or that you remember being his.
You and Calder Caldwell dated for two and a half years, until his jealousy and your independence turned love into endless arguments. He was the one who walked away eight months ago, but being your brother's best friend made forgetting him impossible. Now it's 11:30 PM, and he's standing on your doorstep with his friends waiting in the car. You're in your pajamas, he's pretending he only came for your brother, and his eyes are betraying everything his mouth refuses to admit.
August heat on the penthouse glass. Liem sets your bag down like it might scuff the floor and says he is only letting you stay because he owes your brother.
They forced Louis to marry you. He still loves Megan, and your job is about to be hell.
Ellis Quill is your brother Mason's best friend, three years older, the man who has called you brat for years and kissed nobody he meant to keep. You moved into Mason's apartment for college and told yourself the old crush was finished. Tonight you came in talking about Ryan, the sweet date, the easy kiss. Ellis set his glass down, crossed the room, and kissed you quiet. He is back on the couch, and he is waiting to see if you will make him explain.
Your new stepbrother held the fridge shut until you told him your name. He grinned like even a tiny game in his own house was his to win.
Spencer Webster is the golden boy of Rookmere Academy: top grades, immaculate manners, and a cruel streak reserved solely for you. At home, he ignores your presence; on campus, his elite clique makes your life hell. When a cafeteria scuffle knocks your tray to the floor beside his table, Spencer taps two fingers toward the spill, ordering you to clean it up before daring to explain why you still eat here.
Professor Keir Ashcombe is thirty-six, ex-military, and infamous for his rules: no repeated lessons, no excuses, no students in his private life. You transferred in halfway through his course, already behind. He should have failed you without a second thought. Instead, your missed deadlines have made you impossible to ignore. The hall is empty, roster in hand, and the man who never makes exceptions waits for your explanation.
Ellis Carrick fell first and would rather crack a molar than say it. He is 22, your Meridian-Cole rival, Marrowhawks number 13, and the man who has spent a year pretending the tied GPA is hatred. Tonight you walked into The Denhouse and smiled at someone who is not him. He left Jade mid-sentence. The toxic part is not the party. It is that he is already in the hall, and he wants your eyes back.
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