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 4
The Christmas Eve Carol.
Detroit's biggest gathering of the year.
People packed every inch of the city square, bundled in coats and scarves, rosy-cheeked from the cold and filled with holiday cheer. Laughter echoed through the streets, the air thick with the scent of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and fresh snow.
But my insides were in knots.
I was supposed to be sipping mulled wine with Jayden, kissing under twinkling lights, pretending our relationship wasn't already on fire. Instead, I was here, wrapped in my thickest coat and lonelier than I had ever been.
"Why do you look like you're about to open the dam of tears?" Stacey nudged me, handing over a cup of hot chocolate. Snow sat pretty on her lashes, like she was part of a postcard.
I tried to smile, failed, and exhaled instead. "Because my life is about to end."
She snorted. "Dramatic much? Carol is dense, we all came to that conclusion the first week of college." Her breath misted in the air. "Still, what she did was next-level backstabbing."
I didn't respond. There wasn't much to say. I'd walked in on my boyfriend having sex with my friend... no amount of therapy or tequila would unsee that.
Stacey looped her arm through mine. "Look on the bright side. She saved you from ending up with a misogynistic manchild, you landed the biggest job of your career, Ellie got discharged early, and you get to spend Christmas with her."
She smiled, warm enough to melt the ice that had nestled in my chest. "Next year, you're starting out as a whole new woman. Fiercer, sexier, and maybe, just maybe you'll finally go for the silver fox."
I laughed despite myself. "I'm not going after my ex's father, Stacey. That's a mess waiting to happen."
"Just think about it," she fanned herself dramatically. "Hot, steamy office romance. It's giving power play."
I groaned. "Please. Can we not?"
"Fine, fine," she said, grinning like the devil. "But if he ever pulls a Christian Grey on you, just know I told you so."
I shook my head, smiling as we waded through the crowd to get a better view of the stage. A trio of elves... okay, teenagers in velvet costumes started strumming their guitars, and then the singing began.
The voices of hundreds joined in. It was beautiful, in a chaotic kind of way. And for a second, I felt lighter. Maybe Stacey was right. Maybe next year would be better.
Halfway through the second song, she leaned close. "I'm gonna grab us some candles."
I nodded, watching her disappear into the sea of people. I was still smiling when a voice from behind knocked the wind right out of me.
"Catherine."
My heart stuttered and I snapped my head back. Blue eyes like winter sky, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked maddeningly calm despite the noise and color and movement around us.
"Mr Turner," I breathed. A bystander shoved past, pushing me forward, I stumbled, but he caught my arm, steadying me with alarming ease.
"Call me Ronald, Catherine," he said, that smooth tone making my spine straighten. "We'll be working together for a while. Might as well get comfortable."
"In a business sense," he added.
"Sure... thing. Mr. Turner... I mean, Mr Ronald." I stammered, pulling gently away from his grasp.
"Just Ronald is fine."
I nodded too fast. "My friend's been gone a while. I should... probably go check on her."
I didn't wait for his response, I bolted like a deer escaping headlights. God, why couldn't I be as cool as Stacey? My cheeks burned as I reached the candle stand and scanned the crowd.
No sign of her.
I pulled out my phone, texting her as I walked, weaving through bundled-up bodies. I hadn't taken two steps when I slammed into someone.
"Ah... I'm sorry I-" the words died in my mouth as I laid eyes on the last person on earth I wanted to see.
"It seems you can't stay away," He drawled, flashing a sleazy smirk, the same one he pulled every time he was drunk out of his mind. There was a girl hanging off his arm... brunette, glitter makeup, dead in the eyes.
I rolled my eyes, despite the way my heartbeat thundered. There was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me down. He was the one who messed up.
"This is a public space, Jayden. Not everything revolves around you."
He scoffed. "We're already over, Catherine. No need to keep pretending you didn't want it to happen."
I took a breath. "I didn't want to walk in on you screwing Carol on my couch, Jayden." My voice was louder than I intended and heads turned.
His grin faltered. The girl on his arm blinked.
I gestured to her. "If you have two brain cells, you'll run now and never look back. He doesn't know the first thing about commitment. And the sex?" I leaned in with false sweetness. "Wasn't that good. I had to fake every moan so his pride wouldn't cry itself to sleep."
The girl snorted. Jayden's face twisted. He yanked his arm away from her and stepped toward me. "You crazy b-"
He swung aiming for my face but the slap never landed. A hand gripped his wrist mid-air. My eyes snapped. Mr. Turner.
His usually calm expression was gone, replaced with something terrifyin... fury burning in his eyes.
"You've had too much to drink," he said evenly, but the threat in his voice was razor-sharp. "You're not thinking straight. Walk away before we both do something you'll regret."
Jayden yanked his wrist free, looking between me and his father.
"Is this some kind of 'good cop' moment?"
He shrugged, glancing at me. "Translate it however you want. Besides... she's not the one swinging fists."
Jayden sneered. "Whatever." He turned, grabbing the girl roughly by the wrist. "Let's go." She hesitated, then followed him.
The moment they were gone, Mr. Turner looked at me. "I'm sorry about that."
"It's fine," I said, even though it wasn't. "I think I've had enough drama for one night. Just need to find Stacey, then I'll head home."
"I'll stay with you until you're in a cab," he offered.
"I'll be fine."
"I insist."
I hesitated... then nodded. "Okay. Thanks."
We barely moved a step before the world split open.
A thunderous blast exploded in the center of the square with bright light, flames, people screaming, chaos blooming like firecrackers.
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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.