The acquisition is done. The penthouse is shared. And thanks to four lines buried in Schedule C that neither of their lawyers caught in time, Julian Mercer and Vivienne Ashcroft have ninety days to cohabit the crown jewel of the company he just took from her. Vivienne is the heir who has been running Ashcroft Group in everything but name for three years — brilliant, controlled, and very good at turning situations into weapons. Julian built Mercer Capital from a scholarship and borrowed money with one goal: dismantle the family that destroyed his father's life. He is precise, relentless, and not even slightly prepared for her. The plan: sixty-two floors up, one bed between them, and ninety days to win. The problem: proximity is its own kind of negotiation. And somewhere between the cohabitation agreement she drafted and the restructuring plan he quietly rewrote, between the Sunday morning he told her about his father and the nor'easter that kept them on the same couch for forty-eight hours, between the pavement outside the Cavendish where he finally kissed her and the kitchen at seven in the morning where he said the true thing without ceremony — somewhere in all of that, the war became something else. Something harder to win. Something neither of them is sure they want to. Pretty Little Ruin is a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers romance about two people who came to ruin each other and built something instead — and the discovery that the building was the point all along. For readers who like: sharp heroines who weaponize their charm, heroes who say exactly what they mean in exactly the right number of words, tension that earns every chapter it takes to break, and endings that feel like arriving somewhere after a very long walk. Contains: forced proximity, one bed, corporate warfare, a cohabitation agreement with amended clauses, pasta at midnight, and mutual destruction of the best possible kind.