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 7
The sun was high over the Kingston estate, but I was currently in my room avoiding human interactions at all costs. It felt cowardly, like a rabbit hiding in its burrow while the wolf circled outside, but it was the only way to avoid running into Eric. The Blue Suite, which was supposed to be a sanctuary, now felt like a prison cell made of silk and gold leaf.
My mind was still reeling from what had happened last night in the library. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel the heat of Eric's body pressing me against that cold reading table, his breath hitching against my neck. The thought of what could have happened if Alexander Hawthorne hadn't interrupted us was a loop playing in my mind, terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Would we have had sex there and then? I knew the answer, and it made my skin flush with a heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun. Eric wouldn't have wasted a moment to claim me right there among the bookshelves. He had always been a man who took what he wanted, and last night, he wanted me with a ferocity that hadn't faded over five years. My stomach twisted as I realized that if I hadn't bolted the second Hawthorne opened that door, Eric likely would have waited for him to leave and then continued exactly where he left off.
The worst part wasn't that I was embarrassed about almost sleeping with him. It was the crushing realization of how weak I still was. After five years of building a life, of raising a son, of telling myself I was over him-one touch from Eric Kingston and I was ready to let it all happen. I would have let him take me, and I would have been super glad for the touch.
Because of this internal chaos, I had already declined Chloe's earlier request to go out for a pre-wedding spa day. I had cited a light stomachache, keeping my voice faint over the intercom. It was a pathetic lie, but it was better than telling her the truth: "Hey Chloe, I can't go out with you today. I almost fucked your uncle on your library table last night and I'm too embarrassed to look anyone in the eye."
Ring-Ring-Ring.
The sharp sound of my cellphone cut through the quiet room, making me jump. Who could be calling me? I scrambled for the device on the nightstand, hoping it wasn't Chloe calling to check on my "stomachache." Looking at the caller ID, my heart skipped a beat for a different reason. It was Sarah.
"What's up, Sarah?" I said, answering immediately. My voice was tight. "Is everything alright? Is Fin okay?"
"Ma'am," Sarah's voice came through, and it was panicky. The background noise sounded like a busy street, but her tone made my blood run cold.
"Sarah, what's going on? Talk to me," I asked, my voice etched with a sudden, sharp worry.
"Ma'am... I think we are being followed," she whispered urgently.
My heart didn't just race; it felt like it stopped entirely. "Wait! What? What do you mean you're being followed? Are you sure?"
"We went to buy some breakfast across the street from the hotel," she said, her voice shaking. "There's a black SUV that's been trailing us for three blocks. Every time I turn, they turn. A couple of men in suits... they aren't even trying to hide it anymore."
Fear, cold and jagged, tore through my body. My mind went to a thousand dark places. Was it Eleanor? Was it a rival of the Kingstons? Or was it Eric's security team, finally tracking down the secret I'd been hiding? Nothing would stop me from protecting my son. Not these walls, and certainly not the man who owned them.
"Sarah, get to the nearest crowded place. Go into a mall or a large hotel and stay in the lobby. Do not go back to the hotel yet. I'm coming to you," I commanded, already kicking off my slippers and grabbing my sneakers.
I moved with a frantic energy, throwing on simple clothing-a pair of jeans and a hoodie that allowed me to move fast. I grabbed my bag and whatever change I had left on me for a cab. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely zip my purse.
I bolted out of the suite and down the back staircase, avoiding the main hall. I reached the tall, wrought-iron gates of the estate, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. But as I reached for the pedestrian gate, two large men stepped into my path.
*******
"What do you mean I can't leave?" I shouted at the guards. I had been standing outside for the past couple of minutes, trying to reason with them, but they stood like stone pillars.
"Sorry, ma'am. Mr. Kingston gave us strict instructions not to let you leave the premises without his express permission," one of the guards answered, his voice devoid of emotion.
I felt like I was going to explode. Arrogance! The sheer, unadulterated gall of this man! "I am not a prisoner! My child's life is in danger! Let me out of these gates right now!"
They didn't budge. I realized then that I wasn't going to get past them with words. I turned back toward the main house, my eyes burning with tears of rage. I was going to find Eric. Who did he think he was? Thinking he could keep me here as a hostage while my son was being hunted in the city?
If he wanted a confrontation, he was about to get one he would never forget.
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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.