Becoming Mrs. Blackwood
Lena Martinez never imagined that her desperate need to save her younger sister's life would land her in billionaire Nathan Blackwood's world. When Julian, Nathan's loyal cousin and right-hand man, offers her a contract for a life-changing sum of money she cannot refuse-impersonate Nathan's fiancée and marry him-Lena has no choice but to agree. With the clock ticking and her eleven-year-old sister's life on the line, she steps into a life of wealth, power and secrets she never asked for.
But playing the role of the glamorous Kimberly Hayes is only the beginning of her nightmare. Lena must contend with a man who is kind, loving, and yet haunted by past heartbreak, while hiding the truth that could destroy them both.
In a world of lies, secrets and danger, can Lena survive as Mrs. Blackwood-without losing her heart to the man she was never meant to love?
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
~ NATHAN ~
I stood in the kitchen doorway for longer than I meant to. Kim hadn't noticed me. She was completely absorbed in what she was doing. So focused that she hadn't heard my footsteps at all.
I'd only come to check on her because curiosity wouldn't let me sit still. I told myself it was only going to be for a minute.
But the moment I saw her, I was rooted to the spot.
The sight of Kim wearing an apron was...unexpected, pleasant. Shocking.
She stood by the counter, seasoning meat with an ease that caught me off guard. She chopped the herbs with practiced precision, looking so relaxed, so at peace, like she belonged there.
She was actually cooking.
The realization hit me in a way that left me utterly stunned. Because the truth was, Kimberly Hayes hated kitchens. She avoided them the way some people avoided bad memories.
She'd once told me that cooking felt like a waste of time and energy when there were chefs and restaurants available for that. I'd simply laughed it off, accepting it as just another part of who she was.
But this... This was something else.
This Kim looked relaxed soiling her hands in the kitchen. She looked confident. At home. Almost...happy.
I leaned against the doorframe now, folding my arms as I studied her more closely. She was still oblivious to my presence, and I found myself strangely grateful for those stolen minutes.
She'd mentioned she was taking cooking classes. A faint smile curved my mouth at the thought. Whoever had inspired this transformation deserved a medal. Because I loved what I was seeing. Not because I expected it of her-I never had-but because it showed real effort on her part. A willingness to meet me halfway in ways I hadn't known I needed.
I'd always loved a homely woman. But I'd fallen in love with Kim knowing she was far from that. Rather, she was ambitious, career-driven, fiercely independent-qualities I admired deeply.
Her career as a beauty and lifestyle influencer meant everything to her, and I respected that. Respected her independent nature, the reason why she hadn't immediately jumped at the idea of moving into this house-one of Blackwood properties. She'd been perfectly content with remaining in her old place, which was smaller-but in my opinion not good enough for the woman I love.
Now here she was, in the kitchen, cooking for me.
Something about that made my heart swell with pride, with love and desire as my gaze drifted over her, tracing the familiar curves of her body. The gentle sway of her hips as she shifted her weight to one leg. The soft roundness of her backside. The fullness of her breasts beneath the fabric of her dress.
Every inch of her stirred something deep and primal in me. Heat curled low in my stomach. I inhaled slowly, reminding myself to behave.
That was when she sensed me.
She turned sharply, knife still in hand, eyes wide with surprise.
I smiled, pushed away from the doorframe and walked over to her. Gently, I took the knife from her fingers and set it aside.
"H-how long have you been standing there?" She looked uncomfortable.
"Long enough to..." I murmured, sliding a hand around her waist and pulling her up against my chest, "realize just how much I've been missing this view."
My gaze dipped deliberately, and she knew exactly what I meant. Her body pressed into mine, soft and warm, and I hardened instantly.
"As much as what you're cooking already looks delicious..." I whispered, kissing her lips, "I think I'd rather...have you for lunch."
I felt her body stiffen instantly.
"Nate-"
I didn't let her finish. I kissed her, slowly, deeply, letting her taste the heat I'd been holding back for a long time now.
"I've missed you," I said quietly.
"I've missed you too, but-" She gasped as she felt my arousal. Her hands came up instinctively as she tried to pull away from my wandering hands and demanding mouth. "I-I don't think the food would...forgive us if I...abandon it at this point."
It took all the effort in me to let her go when all I wanted to do was to peel her out of that dress.
"Relax, love," I said lightly, masking my disappointment. "I'm just teasing. I haven't forgotten our agreement-no sex until the wedding night."
Sometimes it still surprised me that a woman like Kimberly was still a virgin at twenty-five. She didn't strike me as old-fashioned. If she hadn't told me herself, I would never have believed it.
But it explained her boundaries, explained why she was so firm about waiting. Why she never gave in, no matter how heated things got between us. And it only made me respect her more.
Relief washed over her face now. Her shoulders eased, tension draining from her body as though she'd been holding her breath.
For a split second, her reaction made me pause as I wondered. Was it just me, or was she unusually tense today?
Before I could examine the thought, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
"Thank you for understanding, Nathie-bear."
Nathie-bear.
That little nickname she reserved just for me had a way of unravelling me. Or maybe it was the way she said it now, in that husky voice very close to my mouth.
I caught her shoulders as she tried to move away, holding her there a moment longer.
Leaning in, my lips brushed her ear as my voice dropped to a murmur.
"For now...I'll behave. But on our wedding night, every inch of you will be mine to explore. And I won't hold back."
She blushed, her body tensing again beneath my hands. I felt it, the instinctive reaction she tried to hide. And instead of questioning it, I found myself enjoying it.
The nervousness, the way she trembled and shied away from meeting my gaze. It only made me more eager.
Seven days. I smiled to myself, counting. Just seven days to the wedding.
The wait would be worth it.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters
You may also like
8.6
I spent three years being the perfect wife to tech mogul Cash Ferguson, a forensic accountant playing the role of a low-risk asset to stabilize his public image. My world shattered when I saw a live CNBC broadcast from Sundance showing Cash tenderly hoisting a two-year-old boy onto his hip—a secret son born to a socialite mistress while he was supposedly at a business roadshow.
When I confronted him with divorce papers, Cash didn't apologize; he laughed, calling me a "liability" and weaponizing my mother’s history of mental illness to claim I was genetically unfit to carry his heir. He didn't just reject the split; he locked the penthouse elevator and froze every one of my accounts, reclassifying me from a wife to a piece of disputed company property.
"You came from nothing, Isidora," he sneered, tossing a credit card at me like a leash. "Stop being dramatic. I can afford a pet, but don't think you can survive a day in the real world without my name."
The betrayal turned lethal when I discovered Cash had tracked down my mother’s stolen emerald brooch—my only connection to my past—and bought it as a gift for his mistress. He was using my trauma and my heritage to decorate the woman who had replaced me in his secret life.
I realized then that Cash had made a fatal accounting error: he forgot that I was the one who built his shadow accounts and knew exactly where the fraud was buried. He wanted to treat our marriage like a hostile takeover, so I decided to give him a market correction he would never forget.
I escaped down forty flights of stairs with nothing but a burner laptop and a plan to burn his empire to the ground. If he wanted to play dirty, I’d show him what happens when a forensic accountant initiates a liquidation protocol. I’m not just leaving; I’m going to make him crawl.
9.3
Mark & Alex
9.3
Mark Windsor, Australia's most feared and respected CEO, has built walls as high as his empire. After losing his parents, the only warmth left in his life comes from Mary Smith, the woman who cooks his meals and feels more like home than family ever did.
When Mary's son Alex visits the estate, Mark doesn't expect the sharp-tongued, smiling graduate to unsettle him. Alex doesn't expect to fall for the man who owns the house he lives in or the company he refuses to work for.
Forced proximity, secret glances, late-night conversations, and quiet meals slowly turn into something dangerous. When Alex finally joins Mark's company on his own merit, love becomes a risk neither of them can afford.
In a world where reputation matters more than truth, Mark and Alex must decide if love is worth the fall.
9.4
Owned By You
9.4
Deborah grew up as the only girl among six overprotective brothers, each powerful, intimidating, and fiercely loyal. In their eyes, no man is ever good enough for their sister. They swore that only they would choose the man worthy of her hand.
But Deborah has a secret that could destroy everything. Behind closed doors and hidden glances, she's been having an affair with Luther Cain, the cold, handsome CEO of one of the country's most powerful companies... the Cain Industry..... and her brothers consider their greatest rival.
As their forbidden relationship deepens, passion turns into danger. Lies begin to unravel. And when her brothers discover the truth, Deborah must choose between the family that raised her, and the man she's willing to burn the world for.
7.4
Helena woke up in a sheer silk slip, trapped inside the romance novel she had read the night before.
She was the doomed villainess.
And she had just executed the most pathetic plot in the book: hiding in the closet to seduce her cold, ruthless legal guardian, Hayward.
It was the exact move that got the original Helena thrown out on the street to die.
"Helena, your time is up. Get out."
Hayward's freezing voice came from the other side of the door.
He didn't just reject her. He threatened to strip her of her trust fund and permanently lock her in a psychiatric ward.
Everyone in the massive estate despised her, treating her like trash.
To force her to break, Hayward exiled her to the company's worst design department, a graveyard for corporate failures.
At the same time, her innocent step-sister, the novel's female lead, was being cornered and harassed by a predatory manager.
Helena was suffocating under the original owner's ruined reputation.
She was surrounded by hostile eyes, everyone just waiting for her to throw a tantrum and completely self-destruct.
Why should she be forced to pay the ultimate price for the original villain's deadly mistakes?
Instead of screaming or begging, Helena wrapped herself in an oversized coat and played the perfect, submissive lunatic to survive.
She completely flipped the script and took the terrified female lead under her wing.
When that manager tried to lay a hand on her new sister, Helena didn't hesitate to crush his foot with her stiletto.
7.7
Alondra spent three hours making soup for her husband, only to find him at the hospital tenderly holding another woman's hand.
"I'm four weeks pregnant, Gerard," the woman said softly.
Gerard coldly handed Alondra a divorce agreement, claiming their three-year marriage was just a placeholder because this woman had once saved his life.
Heartbroken, Alondra fled in her car, only to realize her brakes had been completely disabled.
She spun out of control and crashed head-on into a massive delivery truck.
As she lay trapped in the mangled wreckage with her ribs crushed and blood filling her mouth, Gerard's black Maybach pulled up to the curb.
He stared at her dying body through the window with a completely blank expression.
He didn't call an ambulance or even open his door.
He simply rolled up his tinted window and drove away into the rain.
A raw, suffocating hatred burned in her chest, hotter than the pain in her shattered bones.
She couldn't understand how the man she had loved and served so devotedly could just coldly watch her die like a piece of trash.
Opening her eyes again, Alondra gasped for air.
She had returned to the exact morning two years ago, right before she was supposed to deliver that pathetic soup.
When Gerard walked in and threatened her with divorce, she didn't cry or beg.
"I agree. Let's divorce," she said calmly, packing her bags to reclaim her true identity as a billionaire heiress.
9.1
I was supposed to be celebrating my twenty-first birthday and my engagement to the man I loved.
Instead, I was bleeding out in a crushed car, listening to my fiancé Greggory and my stepsister Alta laughing over the car's Bluetooth.
They had cut my brakes.
As the steering wheel crushed my shattered ribs, they cheerfully clinked their champagne glasses, celebrating their hostile takeover of my family's media empire.
I tried to scream for help, but my lungs wouldn't work.
Then, Alta's sweet voice delivered the final, fatal blow over the speaker.
"Your mother? I took care of her too."
I died in the freezing rain, my heart frozen with absolute hatred as I realized every touch and whispered promise was just a calculated step toward my murder.
I gave them everything, treating them like my closest family.
Why did they have to kill my innocent mother? Why did I blindly trust two vipers who only wanted to drain my blood?
Opening my eyes again, the smell of gasoline was gone.
I was back in my bedroom, safe and unharmed, on the exact day of my twenty-first birthday party.
The day the tragedy began.
Downstairs, my murderers were waiting to spring their trap, expecting me to blindly accept Greggory's proposal.
But this time, I put on a blood-red dress, grabbed the photo of their secret affair, and walked down the stairs to choose a new fiancé—the most ruthless billionaire in the room.