In Los Angeles, power has a pulse.

It beats under red light and locked doors. It whispers through Club Noir, where reputations get made, ruined, and traded like currency.

James King does not chase control. He walks in, and the room gives it up.

Ellie Sinclair does not fall in love. She dissects it, tests it, and keeps only what survives.

Together, they do not just turn heads. They change the temperature. They build a kingdom out of hunger, status, and the kind of devotion that feels like a threat.

Then Ellie's past reaches back in.

Something she thought was buried gets weaponized, and the cost of being seen becomes blood real. Suddenly the crown is not a symbol. It is a target.

This is not safe romance.
This is obsession with consequences.
This is what happens when two already broken people find the one person who can wreck them, and choose them anyway.

Welcome to the Kingdom.