Your Dad Is Mine
His fingers slid into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back and expose my throat to him. My pulse thrummed wildly beneath his mouth as he trailed heated kisses along my neck. Each brush of his lips left my skin tingling.
"We shouldn't be doing this, Mr. Turner," I breathed, my voice breaking on a gasp as he found a sensitive spot just beneath my ear and sucked lightly.
His growl was low and primal, vibrating through my skin as he pressed his body against mine. I felt every hard line of him, his heat bleeding through my clothes.
"Why not?" he murmured, his voice rough with restrained need.
I swallowed hard. "You're... you're my ex-fiancé's father."
He paused. For a moment, everything stilled... his breath against my throat, the air between us, even the rain outside seemed to hesitate. Then he lifted his head, and our eyes locked. His were a stormy blue, intense and unwavering.
"No one has to know, Catherine," he said quietly, his voice was like a dark promise wrapped in silk. Then he leaned in with his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I can be your dirty secret."
A shiver ripped down my spine. His words settled deep in my gut, awakening something dangerous.
I bit my lip. Every cell in my body screamed for me to walk away but I didn't.
Instead, I gripped the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him hard. Desperately. He rumbled low in his chest, kissing me back with equal hunger, his hands roaming my body like he already knew every curve.
When he finally broke the kiss, I was breathless. Then he dropped to his knees between my legs, with his eyes darker now, almost black with want. Lightning caught in the sharp line of his jaw, and a wicked smirk tugged at his lips.
"I'm going to show you the world," he said. "If you'd let me."
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Chapter 3
The Detriot office buzzed like a beehive... deals, deadlines, and desperation hanging in the air. I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar chaos steady me.
"Miss Catherine," Shelly, my assistant, chirped. Her eyes flicked to my left hand,, my now bare ring finger. I pasted on my most polished smile, hiding the sting.
"Something wrong?" I asked, though I already knew.
She blinked, then gave a nervous laugh. "No, no! It's just... you'd already said you were done for the year. I didn't expect to see you back so soon."
"I changed my mind," I said coolly, adjusting my grip on my bag. "What's on the docket?"
Shelly hesitated. "Well... if you're sure. There's one project that's behind schedule. Local election in Detroit. The mayoral race. It's a mess but it's winnable." She handed me a folder with too many post-its.
I nodded, taking my coffee and heading toward my office. Shelly followed, rattling off deadlines.
"The candidate's high-profile, lots of donor traction. He's got the funding, just needs the polish. You'll whip it into shape."
"Who's the client?" I asked, eyes scanning the report.
"Mr. Ronald Turner."
I stopped cold. My breath hitched, my head snapped up to find a pair of blue eyes staring back at me.
"Good morning, Catherine," Mr Turner said smoothly. "I look forward to working with you."
No. No, no, no.
My brain short-circuited, flashing back to three nights ago... his calloused hands on my face, the heat in his gaze, the almost-kiss. Just a blur of Monopoly money, expensive rum, and dangerously frayed restraint. I shook my head. It was just the alcohol making overthinking. Nothing happened.
I took in a shaky breath and smiled. "Mr Turner, Star heights will take care of every of your needs. You just sit back and relax."
His lips curled into a faint smirk. "That's why I pay good money." He stood, buttoning his tailor made suit and stretched out his hand for a handshake. "Make me mayor Catherine."
I shook it, ignoring the way his touch lingered. "We're only as good as our clients."
We locked eyes for way too long.
Shelly cleared her throat behind me. "Here's the campaign schedule... it's tight, but nothing Catherine can't juggle."
Her voice faded into background noise. My thoughts screamed: What sin did I commit to end up stuck with my ex's father? One who nearly kissed me.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. As Shelly packed up for the holidays, I stopped her.
"Hey, Shelly," I said. "I don't think this project is the best one for me. I'll need you to write an email to the board."
She blinked. "Wait-what?"
"I called off the engagement. Jayden and I are done."
Her mouth dropped open. "Oh."
Just "oh." No sympathy. No shock. I guess I'd been the only one fooled.
"I just... I think it would be too weird," I said quietly.
She grinned. "Nonsense, you're a boss chick. Screw some trust fund kid. If you do this? It would open up doors for you Miss Catherine. I'm talking about you going straight to being a board member."
"I know, but-"
"No buts." She pointed a lacquered nail at me. "This is your moment. You want freedom? You want time for your sister? You finish this job. Nail this campaign, and you'll never have to answer to anyone again."
She slung her purse over her shoulder, pausing just long enough to deliver the final punchline:
"Besides, now you get to work up close and personal with Mr. Turner. Why settle for the colt when you could have the stallion?"
And with that, she sauntered off, hips swaying, leaving me speechless in the hallway. I shook my head chuckling to myself.
I grabbed my bag, getting into the car and the engine revved to life as I sped through the streets. My mind spun. If this campaign succeeded, I could slow down. I could breathe. Ellie and I could move into a bigger place. She'd have more space. Better care. Hell, we could even take a trip. Something normal. Something happy.
I pulled into the hospital parking lot and stepped out, the cold nipping at my skin. Inside, the elevator took me to the top floor... Ellie's floor. I guess the Turner family hadn't pulled their support just yet.
The door creaked open as I stepped into the room. The sterile smell of antiseptic clung to everything, the rhythmic sound of the EKG matched my heartbeat. She was asleep, clinging to her stuffed pillow.
I smiled, perching on the side of the bed and she stirred, her lashes fluttering open.
"Katie?" She croaked, rubbing her eyes.
"Hey, sport. Miss me?"
Her eyes lit up and she threw herself at me with her arms tight around my neck. "Of course I missed you! They dragged me out of class. I just fainted, that's all. Total overreaction."
She pulled back with a pout. "I'm sure everyone stared. What if it happens at the school dance? What if they think I'm some diseased freak?"
I ran my fingers through her hair. "I don't care what they think, Ellie. All I care about is that you're okay. Everyone else can shove it."
She giggled then coughed. I was on my feet instantly, grabbing water. She took it gratefully and drank but her eyes were glassy with defiance.
"I'm fine, Katie. You worry too much. Look at your frown lines."
I gasped, feigning offense. "How dare you."
Her eyes flickered to my fingers and I exhaled sharply, already knowing where this was headed. "Ellie-"
"Did you dump that douchebag?" she interrupted brightly. "Thank God. I was worried I'd be stuck with him as a brother-in-law forever."
I snorted. "That douchebag pays for your VIP room."
She arched her brow. "You mean his dad does?"
"Same difference."
She wrinkled her nose. "Still a douchebag."
And just like that, she changed the subject, typical Ellie, launching into gossip and stories. We spent the night trading laughter for worry, and for a little while, everything felt almost normal.
Almost.
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8.3
My husband watched as my skin melted, scalded by boiling soup, yet his hands were busy comforting my attacker. Five years of marriage, built on a foundation of my family's power, crumbled with a single, brutal act of betrayal. He bought me off with a penthouse and a trust fund, but I tore out my IV and threw his charity back in his face.
It was our fifth anniversary, but my husband, Ethan, remained distant, avoiding any talk of Chicago or the mafia protection my family once offered him. He then pushed a black velvet box across the table.
Inside was a Separation and Property Division Agreement, not a diamond. He told me to sign for Ilene's security, offering millions. When I refused, Ilene hurled boiling soup. Ethan shielded her, not me, as the scalding liquid melted my dress.
With second-degree burns, he blamed me, ordering me from our home for Ilene’s comfort. My family saved him, yet he sacrificed my body and marriage for another woman.
The love I felt turned to ash. What kind of debt demanded my flesh and marriage?
I ripped the IV from my arm, hurling his "charity" keys back. My diamond ring placed on the agreement, I walked away. From today on, Ethan, you and I are dead to each other.
9.7
Eliana Rivera is the firstborn daughter of business tycoon Cassian Rivera. When her father's company falls into debt, he marries her off to the arrogant and ruthless billionaire, Alexander Grayson, as part of a business contract and under the threat of blackmail.
Alexander, the billionaire CEO, never planned to marry, but the pressure of blackmail forces him into a union with a woman he barely knows. Although Eliana doesn't see Alexander as her ideal partner, she agrees to the marriage out of a sense of duty.
Once engaged, however, he barely acknowledges her presence and harbours disdain for her because of her father's actions and their relationship. But as they navigate their newfound relationship, the unexpected desire for each other's touch ignites-a twist neither of them planned, leading them toward an unforeseen love.
9.3
Six years ago, my adoptive family framed me for commercial espionage, stripped me of my identity, and threw me out. Now, I finally returned to the Solis estate as a commercial pilot to take back what was mine.
But the first thing my adoptive mother did was threaten me with that forged evidence again. She demanded I take my sister Kiana's place in a marriage contract with a disabled man, simply because Kiana refused to marry him.
When I refused, Kiana ambushed me at the airport with a mob of reporters. She cried for the cameras, publicly accusing me of causing our father's and brother's deaths. She painted me as a ruthless monster who bankrupted the company and ruined the family. The crowd instantly turned on me, screaming that I was a murderer and a gold-digger. Kiana wanted to completely destroy my reputation so I would have no choice but to submit to her arrangement.
I looked at her fake tears, feeling a cold, absolute fury. How dare she use the tragic deaths of the only family members who actually loved me as a prop for her sick show? They had ruined my life once, and now they wanted to bury me alive.
I didn't hesitate. I slapped her hard across the face right in front of the flashing cameras.
"That was for my father and brother."
Then, my real fiancé, a decorated Delta Force commander, rolled through the crowd in his wheelchair. He tossed a classified Pentagon file to the reporters, completely clearing my name and exposing Kiana's lies. I married him to start my revenge, but as I stepped into his heavily secured penthouse that night, I realized my powerful new husband had been preparing for me for a very long time.
7.3
Lukas Reiner built his life based off a promise 9 years ago with Viktor Volkov... the only person who actually saw him and knew him for what he actually was. They dreamed of the same future, the same ice, the same victory together. Until Viktor disappeared without a word, leaving Lukas behind with nothing but silence, rain... and feelings he never got to confess.
Now, Lukas is at the top of college... Captain, prodigy and untouchable on ice until Viktor comes back.
Colder and older, acting like the past never existed.
Their reunion explodes into violence, but being forced to work together drags them into something far more dangerous than hate.
The tension turns into stolen moments and those moments turn into a habit but before either of them can stop it, the line between resentment and desire begins to blur.
Lukas never let go of the past.
Viktor never planned to face it.
But on the ice, there's nowhere left to run.
9.1
June woke up transmigrated into the body of a ruthless billionaire's toxic, disposable wife.
Before she could even process the massive Beverly Hills mansion, a cold system voice announced she had exactly five minutes of lifespan remaining.
To survive, she was forced to bind with the system and strictly maintain the original owner's "brainless, abusive drama queen" persona to earn hours to live.
She was forced to violently slap hot coffee out of a terrified maid's hands and physically spank her manipulative five-year-old stepson.
When she tried to escape this nightmare by throwing divorce papers at her terrifying husband, Isaac Walton, he simply ripped them to shreds.
Every time she tried to be reasonable or show a hint of kindness, the system tortured her with agonizing cardiac pain, cementing her status as the most hated monster in the family.
The most absurd part happened when she threw a hysterical, system-mandated tantrum over a gossip magazine, and Isaac's icy demeanor suddenly melted.
He gently touched her hair, offering the one thing she desperately needed.
"Stop crying. I'll handle it."
Just as a spark of hope ignited in her chest, the system's critical death warning exploded in her skull: accepting his sympathy would instantly deduct thirty days of her life.
To stay alive, June had no choice but to violently slap away the only hand reaching out to save her, forcing herself to play the greedy villain while her husband's gaze turned dangerously dark.
7.4
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me.
Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister.
She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund.
When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up.
I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair.
But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion.
He didn't just mourn me.
He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me.
I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead.
Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago.
My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me.
I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television.
"Let's get married tomorrow."
This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground.