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Enemies to lovers: friends with benefits?

Pickled_Angel
Anne, a fae princess ran away from her realm after an arranged marriage. She relocated to the human realm to start a new life as a physician. She got a job to treat the king's fiancee who had come up with an unknown illness. But Anne had one big problem, the king's fiancee was also the duke's sister and Anne and duke Dexter hated each other to the core. The duke saw Anne as an unserious person who wasn't qualified for the job. Anne saw the duke as a wicked snob. A blonde devil. And the fact that Anne had to live in the duke's castle with the other chosen physician was something they both hated. They both hated each other until the night Dexter say her completely naked when the estate was under an attack. Since then the desire he had tried so hard to hide, bloomed rapidly. He could get her naked body out of his head, his mind. But then luck shines on him when he accidentally stumbled upon her during her heat. He offers himself to her without a thought. " If you need help in quelling your desire, I'll always be here" So they sigh an agreement, sex with no strings attached. Anne knew Dexter had a lover, she didn't want any unwanted drama She only saw their coupling as something casual but he didn't. The more time they spent tumbling in the sheets the more Dexter's feelings grew without his knowledge. What happens when secrets unravels and clingy exes enter the scene? By the time Dexter realised his feelings it was too late. But he was willing to cross the end of the earth just to be with her. A/N: this book is a slow burn novel. Just be patient.
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I Leash Emperors: The Dead Shout. I Smile

The dead scream for justice. They have been screaming for centuries. In my office on the 88th floor, the sound is indistinguishable from the hum of the paper shredder. I have twelve of history's most dangerous minds in my vault—Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Wu Zetian, and eight others whose names are synonymous with the word empire. I stripped them of their crowns and their divinity and left them with the only two things that survive death intact: greed, and memory. Then I put them to work. The boardroom is their new battlefield. Stocks are their arrows. Hostile takeovers are their sieges. The First Emperor runs my supply chains with the same draconian efficiency that built the Great Wall. The Queen of the Nile runs my PR division and calls it beneath her. Caesar rewrites the legal architecture of an entire financial district before breakfast and considers it a light morning. The rules are simple. The Emperor with the highest ROI earns twenty-four hours of full sensory restoration—taste, warmth, the burn of real alcohol, everything the synthetic body cannot feel. The Emperor at the bottom earns something else: a Hell Start. Reincarnation as a beggar, a eunuch, a sacrificial lamb in the next cycle. They know this. It keeps them focused. Every full moon, the tavern opens. The millions they killed in their lifetimes gather as my Jury—compressed into a medium that runs on pure hatred, sustained by a spite so concentrated it has proven, against all known physics, to be a measurable energy source. They vote. They decide which of their tormentors leads the next charge, and which of the most venomous among them earns a temporary body to return to the waking world. Wu Zetian shed her imperial robes to kneel at my feet and beg for a private review of her HR directorship. Arsinoe—murdered by her own sister two thousand years ago—spent six weeks haunting Cleopatra's servers and built a perfect weapon before she ever asked me for the body to deliver it. Cleopatra herself believes her beauty is a currency I will eventually accept. She has not yet understood that in this building, the only currency is performance. I do not need loyalty. I need sharp blades. I do not trade in mercy. I trade in ROI. They believe this is my game. They do not ask why I need to win it. Rules? I am the rule. Harem? The highest-tier spoils of a game they don't know the stakes of. Every arc is a different world. Every world is a wound that needs closing. The Emperors do not know this. They never do. Perhaps the last thing standing between their world and oblivion is a man who stopped caring about it long ago. Let the dead shout. I smile. I have to. Tags: #InfiniteFlow #DarkFantasy #HighStakesPolitics #DivineAutocracy #GrimDark #RuthlessMC #HistoricalFigures #DarkHarem Content Advisory: Heavy power dynamics, sensory manipulation, historical figures in morally compromised positions. MC is an unapologetic autocrat. No redemption arcs.
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