Heartbeat Decision
✋DISCLAIMER: Stop & Read! ✋
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.
⚠️ MATURE CONTENT WARNING ⚠️
This story contains mature themes, including sensitive and potentially triggering content. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you are uncomfortable with such topics, please consider whether you wish to continue reading.
This work is intended for a mature audience only.
The author does not promote or justify any harmful actions, behaviours, or viewpoints portrayed in the story. They are included strictly for narrative and fictional purposes.
By continuing to read, you acknowledge and accept these terms📝.
©️All rights reserved — belongs to the author!✍️
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🕰️PROLOGUE—The Beginning of the Story🕰️
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A long parade of cars streams into the circular driveway, one after another gliding to a halt before the grand doors of the palace.
First, a group of twenty men steps out in perfect coordination, rushing forward with disciplined urgency. Within seconds, they surround a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom bearing the number plate A88888 — deceptively simple, yet impossible to trace.
One of the men steps forward and opens the door.
In perfect unison, the rest stand in formation and salute.
And then he steps out.
Standing at around 5 feet 9 inches, he carries himself with effortless authority. His features are striking — sharp jawline, sculpted to perfection, paired with soft yet intense eyes that hold a quiet storm within. His hair falls in perfectly styled waves, slightly tousled as if untouched by effort, adding to his natural charm.
His skin glows under the sunlight, smooth and flawless, while his lips rest in a calm, unreadable line — neither welcoming nor dismissive. There’s a rare balance in him, elegance and danger coexisting seamlessly.
Dressed in a grey— tailored suit that hugs his frame just right, every movement he makes is slow, deliberate, and controlled. He doesn’t rush, because he doesn’t need to.
The air shifts the moment he steps out.
Power doesn’t announce itself.
It simply arrives with him.
He looks up at the towering palace for a brief second, measuring, claiming, before his gaze drops back to the car.
Then, without warning, he bends and pulls a girl out.
She stumbles into view, dressed in a simple knee-length skirt, a white crop top, and a leather jacket. A small bag hangs across her shoulder, resting against her stomach. She struggles instantly, her body twisting against his grip as he tightens his hold around her arm.
“Leave me!” she cries, her voice breaking. Mascara streaks down her cheeks, smudged by tears.“Leave me, you rascal!”
Her free hand hits his shoulder, weak but desperate.“You don’t know who I am, just leave me, let me go!”
He doesn’t react. Not a flicker.
But his men do.
In a split second, guns are drawn cold, aimed, ready.
The girl freezes. Her hand stops mid-air, fear flashing across her face as her breath catches in her throat.
For a moment, everything goes still.
Then, with a slow inhale, he turns completely unfazed and in one swift motion lifts her onto his broad shoulder as if she weighs nothing.
She gasps, then starts kicking wildly, her bare feet hitting against his stomach.
But he doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t even look at her.
He simply walks forward, calm and controlled while she struggles against him like a storm he has already decided to conquer.
He steps onto the marble stairs of the porch, his pace steady and unhurried. The moment he reaches the top, two men move in sync, pulling open the massive engraved steel doors from either side.
He walks in like he owns the air inside.
And then, without a word, he throws the girl onto a Victorian couch.
She lands with a soft thud, breath knocked out of her, her hair falling messily across her face.
The house... no, the palace—it speaks money.
Her teary eyes lift, scanning everything around her in stunned silence.
Walls adorned with paintings reminiscent of Leonardo da Vinci, grand British-style portraits staring down with cold elegance, a massive marble Cupid standing in the corner like a silent witness.
Gold accents, carved wood, towering ceilings—everything around her screams power, legacy, and wealth beyond imagination.
For a moment, even her fear pauses...
Overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of where she has been dragged into.
He walks past her without a glance and settles into a large, king-sized chair placed a little distance from the couch—almost like a throne meant to remind everyone of their place.
Leaning back, he crosses one leg over the other with effortless ease. His polished shoes catch the light, gleaming—silent proof of the expensive roads he’s walked and the power he carries with him.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a long, thin cigar imported and refined. He places it between his lips, unhurried.
Then comes the click.
A heavy metallic lighter, shaped like a lion, flickers to life in his hand. The flame dances briefly before he brings it closer, lighting the cigar with practised precision.
He inhales slowly.
The room fills with silence... and smoke.
And still, he doesn’t look at her.
“What do you want from me?” she finally asks, her voice shaky but louder this time, echoing slightly in the vast room.
Her eyes dart around once more—taking in the gold, the marble, the art, the sheer excess of it all.
This... this isn’t about money.
A man like him doesn’t take for money.
He throws it away.
Even now, as he taps the ash of his cigar into a crystal tray, it feels like he’s discarding something worth more than most people earn in months.
Her throat tightens.
“If it’s not money... then what?” she whispers, fear creeping back in, stronger this time.
Across from her, he finally lifts his gaze.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
And for the first time since she’s been dragged in—
His attention lands on her.
“Why did you kidnap me?” she asks, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound strong.
The question hangs in the air.
He doesn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he takes another slow drag of his cigar, his eyes fixed on her now—studying, calculating, almost as if she’s something he’s been searching for... and finally found.
Silence stretches.
Heavy. Intentional.
Then, he leans forward slightly, resting his elbow on the armrest, the faintest smirk touching his lips.
“You think,” he says, his voice low and controlled, “I’d go through all this... for no reason?”
A pause.
His gaze darkens.
“You’re here,” he continues, “because you matter.”
The words should feel reassuring.
But the way he says them—
makes them sound like a warning.
She keeps staring at him... waiting.
Waiting for him to say something more, anything that would make sense of the storm she’s been thrown into.
But he doesn’t.
Not a single word.
He just sits there calm, unreadable, his silence louder than any answer he could have given.
And somehow, that silence scares her more.
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Who are they? What could have possibly led to this moment?
Read to find out in“Heartbeat Decision.”
Thank you for opening the book.
Thank you for giving this story a chance.
— With love,
very interesting and hot too update soon
I've read a few FWB books before so let's see where this goes.🌻