In Love With My Father's Best
Prologue.
I've loved him as long as I can remember.
Hardin. My father's best friend. The man who seems untouchable, unlovable to every woman. But for me? He's everything.
Thirty-Five. Handsome. Calculating. Billionaire.
And yet, he remains single.
What could I do? I'm just Elena. Twenty-two years old. His best friend's daughter. Someone who shouldn't even think of loving him. So my first love became my hidden secret.
But now? I'm out of college, and I've vowed to chase my dream.
I joined his company, not for work, or for ambition. But for him.
To stay close. To make him fall for me.
Forbidden love is a dangerous game, but I'm willing to take the risk.
Will I succeed?
Will my love break through every rule and boundary?
I don't know.
But I'm ready to find out.
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Chapter 3
[Elena's POV]
A Mistake We'll Totally Forget.
I stared into Hardin's eyes.
My words echoed in my mind and the intensity in his gaze mirrored my own turmoil.
He released me, and my heart skipped as he stepped back. Was he angry about what I had just said?
"Hardin... " I whispered, my voice trembling.
"You want to take off my clothes, right?" he said, raising his hands slightly, his eyes never leaving mine.
My fingers twisted at my sides, yearning to reach for him.
"Come on..." he muttered, his voice low and inviting.
A thrill coursed through me. I couldn't let this chance slip away-the chance to touch the man I had watched from the shadows for years.
Slowly, I sank to my knees, closing the distance between us. My throat tightened as my hands reached for his buttons. I didn't break eyes contact as I unfastened his shirt, letting it fall aside.
My palm grew damp as I traced the firm lines of his chest. Then I leaned in, pressing a kiss against his skin, my pulse racing.
His arms came around me, pulling me closer. I felt his breath warm against my skin, igniting something deep inside me.
"Don't stop," he muttered. "Do whatever you want with me. I'm all yours for this moment," he muttered, his voice calm yet filled with urgency.
My breath caught as a faint smile tugged at my lips.
I wanted to tell him how I felt.
But I had no idea what it would change between us.
I leaned in, capturing his lips with mine, and he responded with equal fervor, our tongues dancing together.
As the kiss deepened, I pushed him back onto the bed, breaking the connection. He chuckled darkly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine.
Every nerve in my body lit up at the heat between us.
I pulled off his shorts, my heart racing as I took him in, then bit my lip, rolling my hair into a bun, and securing it with a band around my wrist.
With a deliberate slowness, I climbed onto him, kissing my way down his chest. My hands trembling as I cupped his cock gently.
"Don't worry. I'll be careful," I reassured him, watching as he relaxed under my touch.
I leaned in, kissing the tip before taking him into my mouth, my eyes locked on his.
He bit his tongue, and the sight fueled my confidence.
With a deep breath, I took him fully, feeling him hit the back of my throat. My vision blurred, and he groaned, the sound sending waves of pleasure through me.
"You're such a good girl, Elena. Faster," he urged, his voice thick with desire.
I didn't hesitate. I quickened my pace, choking slightly as saliva dripped from the corner of my lips. My hair fell loose around my face.
He grunted, tangling his fingers in my hair, guiding me faster, rougher. I could barely breathe.
"Fuck!" he cursed, his brows knitting together as he neared his climax.
I pushed him closer to the edge, and suddenly, he erupted, spilling himself across my face. I gasped, breathless and overwhelmed.
He exhaled, reveling in the mess he had created. I licked every drop, savoring the taste. "How was it?" I asked, climbing back onto him.
"Good," he murmured, adjusting my position.
Before I could react to his compliment, he thrust inside me, stealing my breath away. My eyes widened, and I swallowed hard.
"Ride me. I love it too," he commanded, spanking my ass, sending shockwaves through my body.
Trembling, I began to move, guiding myself on him, my head falling back in ecstasy.
He sat up, his hands gripping my waist, urging me to go faster, harder.
"Fuck! Hardin!" I cried out, my body shattering around him as I came again, clinging to him, kissing his neck, desperate for more.
I didn't want this night to end. I didn't want the rain outside to stop.
"Hardin, please don't stop," I begged, tears streaming down my cheeks, not for the pleasure, but from the realization that this moment was fleeting, a beautiful mistake that might never happen again.
He's my father's best friend.
He slowly pulled back, my arms still wrapped around his neck, his eyes searching mine for an answer.
I sniffed, my vision blurring as I struggled to hold myself together.
He wiped my tears away gently. "Are you okay?" His voice unraveled what little composure I had left.
"Yes," I muttered, clinging back to him tightly, my body still pressed against his as I cried.
He rubbed my back, holding me close. Neither of us spoke, as if words might break whatever fragile thing existed between us.
All of this softness felt like an illusion, a brief escape from the reality waiting for us.
A mistake.
And the worst part was-I didn't want it to be one.
But somehow, I already knew tomorrow would ruin everything.
___
Next Morning.
A strange heaviness settled over me as I woke up. I was still at Hardin's place, in the same room. I didn't expect him to be there anyway, so I wasn't too disappointed.
But what would I tell my parents about why I slept over?
I sighed and forced myself to sit up. A breeze drifted in through the open window, brushing against my hair. I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.
The door creaked open.
I looked up to see Hardin standing where he had stood last night, a tray in his hands. He was dressed in a tailored suit, looking ready for work.
His gaze wasn't cold, but it lacked the softness from last night.
Our eyes met briefly before he walked over and set the tray on the stool beside the bed.
"Good morning," I muttered.
"I already told your parents you stayed because the rain stopped late," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "Don't worry about anything."
I nodded slowly, though something about his voice made my chest tighten.
"Have this. I'm leaving for work. My secretary will drop you off when you're done."
He turned to leave.
"It's your dress," he added, placing it on the bed without looking at me. "I had it cleaned."
He still wouldn't meet my eyes.
"You can skip work today," he said, already at the door, and then it closed behind him with a soft click.
My heart pounded as the silence settled in.
What was I expecting?
I bit my lip, burying my face in my hands as reality crashed over me.
But then my phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it.
A message from my mother flashed across the screen:
"Where are you, Elena? Your father is waiting. It's urgent."
I froze, my fingers tightening around the phone.
Hardin said he had already spoken to them.
So... what changed?
I took a deep breath, dread pooling in my stomach.
What if everything I thought had ended was just beginning?
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9.7
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
9.5
In the glittering shadows of New York City's elite, impoverished artist Elena Vasquez clashes with the enigmatic billionaire tycoon Alexander Hale. What begins as a chance encounter in a rain-soaked alley spirals into a whirlwind of passion, betrayal, and redemption. As Elena fights to reclaim her stolen dreams, Alexander's guarded heart unravels, forcing them to confront family secrets, corporate intrigue, and the ruthless divide between their worlds. Will their forbidden love survive the storms of jealousy, scandal, and loss, or will it shatter like the fragile art that brought them together? Shattered Canvases is a steamy billionaire romance that explores the raw edges of desire and the healing power of vulnerability.
8.9
I returned to New York for my welcome-home party, expecting a warm embrace from Edwin, my devoted fiancé of twenty years.
Instead, his first words to me were a cold, public warning to stay away from his new girlfriend, Kacy.
He stood in my family's hotel, shielding a girl I had never even met, and painted me as a vicious, jealous bully.
"She is very sensitive, Kaitlyn. Her background is tough. Please, be gentle with her. Don't upset her."
He humiliated me in front of our entire elite circle, allowing them to mock me as the aggressive, discarded ex while he carried her away like a fragile princess.
For twenty years, I had been his loyal shadow, fixing his mistakes and loving him unconditionally.
I couldn't understand how decades of deep devotion could be instantly erased by a few crocodile tears and a manipulative damsel act.
He was absolutely certain I would throw a tantrum, cry, and eventually crawl back to beg for his attention.
But he was wrong.
He didn't know that Everett Rowe, a billionaire tech mogul, had been patiently waiting five years to marry me.
He also didn't know that during my three years abroad, I wasn't just studying art—I became "K.B.", the ruthless Wall Street predator who could swallow his family's empire whole.
I calmly pulled out my phone, ignored the mocking whispers around me, and typed a single message to Everett.
"Yes. I'll marry you."
7.2
I was securing the diamond clasp of my necklace when the security monitor blinked to life, revealing my husband burying his face between his assistant's thighs.
Just an hour later, Dante Moretti stood by my side at the Gala, playing the part of the devoted Capo, while his mistress smirked at me from across the room in a dress that screamed for attention.
I wanted to leave. I had packed my bags, ready to disappear.
But then the doctor told me the news: I was six weeks pregnant with the Vitiello-Moretti heir.
I thought the baby might save us. I thought it would stop the madness.
I was wrong.
When his mistress accused me of betrayal to cover her own tracks, Dante didn't listen to his wife. He listened to the woman warming his bed.
In a blind rage, the man who swore to protect me struck me down.
I felt the sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen before I even hit the stone floor.
As blood stained my pristine white dress, I realized he hadn't just broken his vows.
He had killed our unborn son.
So, when the opportunity came to detonate the gas line and fake my own death, I didn't hesitate.
I let the world believe Seraphina Moretti died in that explosion.
Ten years later, I returned to a city that thought I was a ghost.
I dismantled his supply lines, froze his assets, and watched his empire crumble piece by piece.
And when he was finally on his knees in the rain, broken and destitute, I stepped out of the shadows.
I didn't come back for his money.
I came back to hand him the ultrasound photo of the child he murdered.
"Hello, Dante."
9.3
She was never supposed to be the bride.
Lila Hart has always lived in her older sister's shadow, Evelyn, the perfect daughter, the favorite, the one chosen to marry Adrian Blackwell, the cold, powerful billionaire heir who controls half of Manhattan. But forty-eight hours before the wedding, Evelyn disappears. No explanation, No goodbye. Just a single warning: "Don't let him find out what I did."
Now the Hart family is about to lose everything, their reputation, their company, their future, unless Lila steps into the role her sister abandoned.
So Lila becomes the replacement bride
A marriage born out of duty for her... and pure anger for him.
Adrian doesn't want a wife, He wants answers. And he's certain Lila knows more about Evelyn's disappearance than she claims. They swear they'll keep their distance, No love,No trust, Just a contract neither of them asked for.
But the night of the wedding, a violent warning arrives, proving Evelyn didn't run away, She was taken. And whoever has her... wants Lila next.
Now Lila is trapped in a marriage built on secrets, hunted by enemies she can't see, and falling for a man she was never supposed to love.
Because the most dangerous place for her... might be right beside her husband.
7.2
I lay in the hospital bed, every breath feeling like I was inhaling wet concrete. My husband, Trent, stood by the window, more interested in his reflection in the glass than his dying wife.
My sister, Cristi, sat nearby, complaining about how the rain would ruin her expensive shoes on the way to the car.
Trent walked to my bedside and brushed a finger against my oxygen tube.
"The liver failure is aggressive," he whispered. "But we expected that, didn't we? After all those 'vitamins' you've been taking."
I tried to scream, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. Cristi just giggled, telling me not to struggle because they needed my trust fund voting power by midnight. They held up a Do Not Resuscitate order and told me my hand had "signed" it with a little help.
"You were a depreciating asset, Cleora," Trent said, his lips cold against my forehead. "Now, you're finally liquidated."
As the darkness swallowed me, I saw flashes of my life—my mother’s suspicious car crash, my stolen sketchbooks, and the bitter almond taste in my morning juice. I died in a state of pure, helpless rage, realizing I had been murdered by the only people I ever loved.
How could they be so heartless? How could I have been so blind to the monsters living in my own home?
Then came the sensation of falling.
I sat up with a gasp, my lungs burning with fresh, salty air. The hospital was gone. I was in a luxury stateroom on our family’s charity cruise, three years before my death. I was alive, healthy, and back at the beginning.
When a blood-stained billionaire named Clemente Pennington walked out of the suite's bathroom, I didn't run. I looked him in the eye and realized that this time, I wouldn't be the one liquidated. I was going to make them pay for every drop of poison they ever fed me.