Three powerful families.
Three arranged marriages.
And one beautiful stranger with a secret who changes everything.
Devil’s Angel, an all-new steamy new adult standalone romance from bestselling author Julie Capulet is available now!
They say family is something you’re born with. Mine abandoned me long ago. They say true love is a myth. Mine showed up as a gorgeous devil who almost killed me. I fought back. Our bodies and our hearts knew, even if our realities would never allow it.
I’m one of five heirs to the Ramsey fortune and estate, a hundred acres of tropical paradise on the island of Kauai. I’m also the chosen one—a detail that’s about to ruin my life. My marriage will be arranged, to secure the alliance between families.
But when a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger literally slays me, she changes everything.
This is more than obsessive lust. It’s the kind of star-crossed love worth dying for. And it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Because settling for a future without her is no longer an option.
DEVIL’S ANGEL is a steamy standalone new adult arranged marriage romance set in paradise. It contains scorching hot love scenes and is intended for readers 18+
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I walk the six blocks to Perfection Catering to start work.
They’re already loading up the vans parked out in front, so I show my ID to the driver and get into the van, where Maggie has saved a seat for me.
“I can’t believe we’re going to Seven Mile Beach,” she gushes.
“What’s Seven Mile Beach?”
“Are you kidding me? It’s only the most expensive residence in the United States. We’re working for the Fitzpatricks today. It’s Vivi Fitzpatrick’s twentieth birthday party.”
“Vivi Fitzpatrick.” Doesn’t ring a bell. “Should I know who that is?”
Maggie rolls her eyes, like she can’t believe anyone could be so obtuse. “What am I going to do with you? The Fitzpatricks are celebrities. They own the most exclusive high-end hotels in Waikiki. Their resorts are where the tourists with serious money stay.” Maggie keeps up with all the latest social media gossip.
I, it has to be said, don’t.
“Here, I’ll show you their photos.” Maggie knows I don’t really have the time or the data to scroll the internet non-stop. She fills me in on all the gaps in my celebrity education.
“This is Malachi.” She zooms in. “Isn’t he absolutely gorgeous?”
I guess he is, in an internet-worthy sort of a way. He has black hair and white teeth. He’s surrounded by beautiful women in bikinis smiling vapidly for the camera.
“Perri, Tatum and Vivi Fitzpatrick’s follower numbers on Instagram are ranked one, two and three in the world.” Maggie scrolls further. “Here’s a photo of the three of them.”
I point to the sister in the middle as she zooms in. “Is that Tatum?” I recognize her face.
“Yes. And this one’s Perri. And that’s Vivi on the right.”
Vivi isn’t smiling. Perri is wearing a lot of make-up. She has a weird sheen to her, like she could be made of plastic.
I don’t get a chance to ask Maggie more questions because we’re driving up to a massive gate. We come to a stop and several security guards climb aboard. The van is searched and we all have to be checked with metal detectors to make sure we’re not armed. Which seems a little over the top but I guess these celebrities can’t be too careful.
We finally pass the inspection and our fleet of vans gets waved through. A palm-tree lined entrance winds along a grassy slope overlooking a golden sand beach and the turquoise water.
Maggie and I are both wide-eyed as we drive into the compound. The house looks like a five-star plantation-style hotel with modern additions. There’s a gigantic lanai and a glittering infinite pool surrounded by palm trees. The entire place gleams with money.
We’re led inside, and put to work alongside the army of staff that are already setting up the outdoor area with the tables, decorations, an outdoor up-market tiki bar and a giant buffet.
The day goes quickly, and the limousines start pulling up just after six o’clock. Maggie and I are given trays with flutes of champagne and told to stand near the entrance so we can serve the new arrivals. From here, Maggie fills me in on who’s who.
“I love this job,” Maggie gushes. Then her eyes go wide. “Holy shit, that’s Jagger King!” He’s stepping out of a white stretch limousine. He has straw-colored blond hair that catches the early evening sun. The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt show off his gold chains, his suntan and his tattoos. “God, he’s so beautiful.”
“Is he a movie star too? He looks like one.”
“No, he works for his family,” Maggie explains. “All the Kings do. They own banks, skyscrapers and basically half the real estate and businesses in Honolulu. If the Fitzpatricks are the Hollywood of Hawaii, the Kings could be described as the Wall Street.”
“He doesn’t look like a banker.”
“That’s because he has so much money, he can look however he wants.” Two other people get out of the limo. “There’s Stone,” Maggie whispers excitedly.
Stone is tall and lankier than his brother. He’s wearing sunglasses and black clothes.
“And there’s Aurora.” Maggie is totally starstruck.
Aurora has dark red hair and a sexy, femme fatale look. She’s wearing a red dress, if it could even be called a dress. It’s more like a shred of ripped fabric that’s covering only the most necessary areas.
The Kings are coming up the steps. Maggie and I watch them as they help themselves to champagne. Up close, they’re even more striking. Their clothes and their obvious, glittering wealth give them a power that’s hard to describe. Jagger is the most physically stunning, but all three of them have a magnetic, sparked presence, like if you touched them they might give you an electric shock.
As Jagger takes a champagne flute from my tray, his gaze lands briefly on my face. His gold hair catches the light almost theatrically but his irises are a very dark brown. As our eyes meet, something about him seems almost weirdly … familiar. But why would it? I most definitely have never met Jagger King. Maybe I’ve seen a photo of him somewhere before. He winks at me before sauntering off into the growing crowd.
Maggie exhales a shaky breath. “Did you see that? He looked right at you!”
There’s some commotion as more people make their entrance behind us, from the interior of the house.
“It’s Perri and Vivi,” Maggie exclaims with hushed awe. “Vivi is the one in purple.”
Both women are dark-haired and exotic-looking. They’re wearing the most to-die-for outfits I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, look, here comes Echo Ramsey.”
A valet opens the door of the next car and a young woman steps out. “Who’s Echo Ramsey?” I whisper back.
Maggie gives me a look. “You seriously must be living under a rock, Cassidy. You’ve never heard of Echo Ramsey?”
“Uh … no.”
“The Ramseys live on Kauai,” Maggie explains patiently. “All three families are interconnected. There are a lot of marriages between the families and they own businesses together. The Ramseys are more reclusive than the others.”
“They just prefer to stay out of the limelight. Their house is like a castle. It’s surrounded by acres of land and high, guarded walls. I’ve heard it’s like an absolute fortress, but inside there’s this beautiful haven, with all kinds of orchards and botanical gardens. The Ramseys live like they’re still on the frontier. They ride horses. They grow crops and they live almost entirely off the land.”
“Wow.” I imagine what that must be like. To catch your own fish or pick fruit off your very own trees.
“My friend’s cousin went to a party there once. She said they all look like supermodels.”
“Echo Ramsey sure looks like one.”
Echo is willowy thin with dark, glossy long hair that’s beautifully cut. She’s almost ethereal-looking, like she could be half fairy or a nymph who just wandered in from a magical woodland. There’s a quiet gravity to her. It’s the groundedness of someone who belongs and who walks around every day feeling the effortless security of that. You can tell she’s loved. You can tell it holds her up and shapes the way she looks at the world. I have a radar for that kind of thing because it’s so absent in my own life.
“Blaise Ramsey is stunning too,” Maggie says. “They all are. I’ve seen the occasional photo of Remington, in the city. He’s the oldest. He’s on the board of some of the businesses the families co-own. He’s huge and built like a fighter. So are Knox and Wolf. They train in MMA, I’ve heard. But they hate publicity. There are a lot of cousins and extended family too, like a clan, but it’s the five siblings that get talked about most.”
And now I’m curious. “What about the other two? Knox. And Wolf.” They have unusual names.
“Apparently Wolf is crazy and, like, armed. He’s some kind of weapons expert or something. I don’t know much about Knox. My friend’s cousin said he was the most gorgeous of all of them. He’s seriously hot and he spends most of his time swimming and hunting. He’s sort of wild and outdoorsy, like a tropical island version of a hot mountain man. He’s hardly ever seen. I’ve never seen a picture of him. But according to my friend, all the Ramsey men are absolutely lethal—I mean, I don’t know why you’d describe someone you just met as lethal, but that’s what she said.”
“Wow,” I say again. It all sounds so wildly romantic. Keeping to yourselves. Swearing loyalty to your clan.
Growing up like I have, I’ve always coveted the idea of a haven. What would that be like, to belong to a place that’s guarded and beautiful and filled with people who know you and who care about you enough to keep you safe?
I wish I could find out.
About Julie Capulet
Julie Capulet writes contemporary romance starring sexy, obsessed alphas and the sweet & sassy women who bring them to their knees. Her stories are inspired by true love and she’s married to her own real life hero. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, walking on the beach, drinking wine and watching rom-coms.