My Best Friend's Uncle....And My Baby Daddy.
Five years ago, Autumn Martin broke the ultimate rule: she fell in love with Eric Kingston-her best friend's uncle and the most powerful man in London.
Their relationship was a beautiful, forbidden secret, but it was doomed from the start.
Fleeing with a secret he was never meant to find out, Autumn left the man she loved behind.
Now, she is back for her best friend's wedding, praying she can survive three days without Eric discovering the truth.
But Eric hasn't forgotten the woman who vanished.
When he catches a glimpse of a child with his own storm-gray eyes, the game changes.
Trapped in the Kingston estate, Autumn must navigate guilt, rekindled passion, and the terrifying reality that Eric Kingston never lets go of what belongs to him.
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Chapter 2
I froze like a deer in headlights, my brain screaming for a lie, but my mouth wouldn't move. I couldn't summon the courage to answer his question, not while those storm-gray eyes were boring into me, searching for the truth I had buried five years ago. The air in the ballroom felt like it was turning to lead. I couldn't breathe, and my head felt light, a dangerous buzzing sound starting in the back of my skull.
"Autumn. Whose. Child. Is. That?" Eric asked again, enunciating each word with a lethal precision.
He stepped closer, invading my air space until the scent of his expensive cologne-sandalwood and cold rain-completely surrounded me. It was an intoxicating scent, one that used to make me feel safe, but now it felt like a trap. The room felt like it was closing in, the golden walls of the Kingston estate becoming the bars of a cage.
"Uncle, what are you talking about?" Chloe piped up, her voice sounding thin and confused against the heavy silence Eric had created. "Autumn has a child? That's crazy."
Chloe laughed, a nervous, high-pitched sound, trying to diffuse the situation. She looked between us, searching for the joke, but Eric didn't move. He didn't even blink. He remained focused on me, his predatory gaze never wavering.
"Answer the damn question, Autumn," he said, his voice dropping into a register that made my skin prickle.
He continued to walk into my space, forcing me to take a step back until I felt the heat of the onlookers' stares on my skin. I felt suffocated. By now, I was sure he had drawn the attention of a few guests, the elite vultures of London waiting for a scandal to break. I could almost hear the whispers starting.
"My nephew," I blurted out, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. "The baby is my brother's child. I'm just... I'm just helping him out."
I felt a wave of nausea. I was trying to de-escalate the situation, but lying about my own son's paternity felt like a new low. I had sunk so far just to keep the truth from the man standing in front of me.
"Nephew?" Eric and Chloe asked simultaneously.
One voice was filled with shock, the other with a sharp, dangerous surprise. I had momentarily forgotten that Chloe had actually met my elder brother. Back when we were in university, they had talked briefly during a video call I'd had with him. The memory flashed in her eyes, and I knew I was on thin ice.
"Is he your elder brother's-"
Before Chloe could finish her statement, Eric cut her off with a sharp gesture of his hand.
"Chloe, go attend to your guests," Eric said.
He shut down any further questions she might have had with a coldness that made her flinch. I was thankful for the reprieve, but I knew it was premature to celebrate. Being alone with Eric was far more dangerous than being questioned by Chloe. I had escaped one interrogation only to be led toward a much more brutal one.
"But Uncle-" Chloe started to protest, using that childish, pouting side of her that I had grown soft to over the years. It reminded me so much of how we used to be-two girls against the world.
"I said go attend to your guests," Eric dismissed her.
I watched his face, knowing that when it came to Eric, those sweet protests never worked. His heart was like a glacier-beautiful, but frozen solid. I watched Chloe stomp off, her white silk dress disappearing into the crowd. I wished more than anything that I could go with her, but I was stuck here, pinned under the weight of this man's gaze.
"Let's go somewhere more private," Eric whispered into my ear.
His breath was hot against my skin, sending a traitorous jolt of electricity through my body. He didn't even give me time to think about it before his hand clamped around my wrist. He began dragging me off, his grip firm and unyielding, leading me through the house toward heaven knows where.
We walked through the maze of the estate, passing by service people who kept their heads down, until we stopped at a heavy Mahogany door. My feet were killing me in my heels, and I cursed him silently. He was still a selfish prick who never thought about anyone else, treating me like a rag doll instead of a person.
He unlocked the door and shoved me inside. I heard the lock click behind us with a finality that made my stomach drop. I really wished it was Chloe interrogating me right now, not him.
"So," he said, stalking toward me with a slow, terrifying grace. "Do you mind telling me whose child that is?"
I backed away from him, my heart hammering against my ribs, until I hit the edge of the large oak desk behind me. I had nowhere left to run. He caged me in, placing an arm on each side of me, his body so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest.
"I already told you, Mr. Kingston, he is my nephew," I said, averting my gaze. I wanted to look at anything but him. I focused on the gold cufflinks on his sleeves, the way his knuckles were white as he gripped the desk.
"You are not a very convincing liar, Autumn."
His voice was a low growl. He reached out, his fingers catching my chin and forcing my gaze back toward him. Those dark gray eyes stared back at me-the same eyes that I saw every morning on a little boy back home. It was like looking into a mirror of the secret I was trying so hard to keep.
"I am going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth, Autumn," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Whose child is that?"
"I already told you, Mr. Kingston, he is my nephew," I said, my eyes finally focusing on his. I tried to make my voice steady, but the lie felt heavy on my tongue.
We stared at each other for several long, solid seconds. The silence in the room was a restless whisper, thick with the history we shared. Before I could pull away, he grabbed the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.
"You more than anyone know how much I despise being lied to," he said, drawing my face closer to his until our noses were almost touching.
I struggled in his grasp, trying to free myself from the magnetic pull he still had over me, but he was too strong. I saw his eyes trail from my lips back to my eyes, a look of pure, unadulterated hunger flashing there.
I struggled to free myself, but his strength far surpassed mine.
"Don't fight this," he whispered.
He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from mine, and for a second, I forgot why I was running. Then, a sharp knock shattered the stillness. It repeated itself a few more times, insistent and loud.
Eric let out a ferocious growl, the sound of a predator being interrupted. He turned toward the door, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You better have a good reason for disturbing me!" he barked.
"Uncle Eric, grandpa is here. He wants to see you," a voice said from behind the door-someone I assumed was another relative.
"I will be right there," Eric said, dismissing him.
But the young man was insistent, calling out again that he needed to come now. Ultimately, Eric gave an annoyed sigh. He untangled himself from me, the loss of his body heat leaving me feeling cold and exposed. He walked up to the door, straightening his suit and smoothing his hair before fixing me with a final glare over his shoulder.
"This isn't over," Eric said. He opened the door and walked out, leaving me alone in the dark office.
My heart was a restless whisper in my chest. I had managed to avoid him for now, but I knew the truth was a ticking time bomb. How much longer could I keep my baby boy a secret from the man who shared half of his dna?
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7.6
She was the heir of a criminal syndicate, bred to command the underworld.
For seven years she loved the wrong man, serving his family and building their fortune. Her payment was betrayal-his affair with her best friend.
During her three-year coma, he hissed, "Don't wake up."
They carried on at her bedside, then plotted her death to steal the company. She woke anyway and shattered them, rattling high society as a mafia heir and lethal fighter who ran the black-market economy.
He begged. She kicked him aside and chose the man who'd waited a decade-the world's top arms dealer. "I'm yours."
8.8
I was the despised adopted daughter of the Sanders family, hiding behind heavy gothic makeup and enduring their daily disgust.
The day my adoptive father died in a severe car crash, my adoptive mother and stepsister didn't even bother to call me.
Instead, while his body was still warm, my mother filed a multi-million dollar life insurance claim.
"I am not feeding a useless freak for another day. Pack your trash and get out."
She kicked me out into the freezing rain, but that wasn't the worst of it.
My stepsister Cornelia stole my greatest secret. Five years ago, I saved the life of Fidel Vaughan, a ruthless billionaire heir, from a burning estate.
Cornelia claimed my identity, accepted a million-dollar reward, and secured a marriage proposal from him, burning my only proof to ashes.
They thought I was just a helpless, pathetic high schooler they could discard and replace.
But when I hacked the police files, I discovered my father's crash wasn't an accident. It was a targeted hit, and the Vaughan Group had hijacked the traffic cameras to cover it up.
I washed off the ugly black makeup, shedding the disguise of a pathetic outcast.
I am Spectre, the world's most elusive hacker and underground doctor.
I intercepted the billionaire heir's heavily armed convoy in the dead of night. They thought they could steal my life and murder my father, but now, I hold the needle that controls Fidel Vaughan's sanity, and I will make them all pay.
7.9
I hid my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis, hoping to spend my last six months with my husband, Gerard.
But the moment I stepped into our penthouse, he threw a divorce agreement at my feet.
"We are ending this marriage. Kena is waiting for me."
He said his first love had returned, and he had no time to play games with me anymore.
Over the next few days, he watched me vomit violently, coldly accusing me of faking a pregnancy to secure a massive payout.
When his own grandfather suffered a massive heart attack upon discovering his public affair, we rushed the old man to the emergency room.
But Gerard didn't stay for the surgery.
Kena showed up in a wheelchair, crying about a mild chest pain, and he immediately turned his back on his dying grandfather and me to comfort her.
I had loved this man in secret for thirteen years.
I even saved him from a rival's drug trap just nights ago, giving my failing body to him in a dark hotel room to protect his reputation.
Yet, to him, I was nothing but a greedy, calculating transaction standing in the way of his true love.
Watching him walk away to hold another woman while the surgery light flashed red, the thirteen years of desperate love inside me finally shattered.
I calmly wiped his grandfather's blood from my hands and turned around.
This time, I will sign the papers and disappear from his life forever.
8.8
My little boy died on the operating table during a minor, routine surgery.
That exact same night, my billionaire husband bought out the Hudson River for a massive, million-dollar fireworks show.
It wasn't to mourn our child. It was to celebrate his first love's son being discharged from the hospital.
When I confronted him with our son's death certificate, he sneered and accused me of hiding the boy to get his attention.
He held his mistress in our home, watched her fake a panic attack, and threatened to bankrupt my family if I didn't get on my knees and apologize to her.
But the most horrifying truth came from a terrified hospital nurse.
My son's anesthesia was deliberately kept low during the procedure to keep his tissue viable to save the mistress's child.
He was awake and in agonizing pain while his own father planned a grand celebration for another man's son.
I couldn't understand how a father could be so completely heartless.
How could he sacrifice his own flesh and blood just to please a woman who constantly manipulated him?
Looking at the ashes on my son's favorite toy, my paralyzing grief evaporated, replaced by a cold, unyielding rage.
I arranged my little boy's funeral alone in the freezing rain, left my wedding ring on the counter, and walked straight into the private hotel suite of my husband's most ruthless business rival.
"Let's take him down," I said.
8.0
I pointed a gun at my husband and made him sign our divorce papers.
He thought I was too soft to survive without him, he had no idea of the rebel he created. I was about to become his worst nightmare.
Dante Caruso taught me two things: how to love a monster, and how to become one. When I discovered he murdered my family for power, I carefully planned my exit and transformation into the heiress I was meant to be. I transformed from an innocent bride to his worst nightmare, I spent two years building an empire on the ashes of the girl he thought he knew.
Now I'm back. Not as Bella Russo, the wife he's been desperately searching for. But as a force shaking the underworld, the enemy that is systematically destroying everything he built.
He wants his wife back.
I want him buried.
Now the real question is what will be his decision, when he discovers the enemy that is destroying his empire and the woman he's lost are the same person.
8.3
I was a ghost in the rafters of Sotheby’s, five floors above the most expensive pavement in New York, clutching a ten-million-dollar ledger hidden inside a drop of blood-red agate. I had the perfect exit planned, but I didn't count on Harding Bishop, a security predator who could track a shadow through a rainstorm.
When the exits were sealed and the tactical teams started swarming, I made a split-second choice to survive. I stepped out of the shadows and looked into the eyes of a billionaire socialite searching for her missing daughter, whispering a single, broken word: "Mom?"
Just like that, I wasn't a thief anymore; I was Cassandra Sterling, the heiress who had been gone for five years. But the homecoming was a nightmare. My new "sister" promised to send me back to the gutter, my "father" held a gold-plated pistol to my knee the moment the limo doors closed, and the family patriarch tried to strike me down with his cane just for breathing his air.
Every second was a high-wire act. I had to play the part of a traumatized victim while a ten-million-dollar stone was literally sewn into the raw, bleeding wound on my shoulder. If I moved wrong, I’d bleed out; if I spoke wrong, I’d be buried in the backyard of the Hamptons estate.
Harding Bishop didn't believe a word of it. He moved into the room next to mine, watching my every breath and checking my hands for gun calluses under the guise of protection. He thinks he’s the warden and I’m his prisoner, but he’s about to find out that a cornered rat is the most dangerous thing in the house.
"Sleep tight, Vesper," he whispered as he locked my door, using my real name for the first time.
He thinks he’s won, but he has no idea that I’m already reaching for the Agate hidden under my pillow, ready to burn his empire to the ground.