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 5
My ears rang like someone had set off a bomb inside my skull. The air was thick with smoke, a burnt chemical tang that clung to my throat and made it impossible to breathe properly. Screams tore through the air, people stumbling over each other like dominoes in a blind panic. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst.
I turned around in the chaos, disoriented. Then I felt a strong hand gripping my wrist.
"Come on," Mr Turner said, his face tight with tension. "Stay close to me Catherine."
I could barely hear him through the ringing in my ears, but I caught enough. Still, I shook my head. My eyes frantically scanned the crowd. "Stacey... she -"
"I'll make sure she's okay," he shouted through the screams, cutting me off. "I promise. But first, we need to get you out of here."
Something in the way he said it made me believe him. I took one last desperate look through the smoke and nodded. He didn't hesitate. With one arm still around me, he bulldozed through the crowd like a possessed man, pushing people aside, shouting orders, clearing a path.
We didn't stop until the chaos dulled behind us. Sirens were growing louder, slicing through the haze of panic. Mr. Turner turned to me, gripped my shoulders firmly.
"Catherine," he said again with his eyes searching mine. "You with me?"
I blinked a few times, nodded slowly. "Stacey..."
"I'll find her," he promised, softer this time. "As soon as the fire service gets here, help guide people. Anyone you see, send them to the trucks. Can you do that?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a nod. "Yes. I can."
He took off before I could say anything else.
When the fire truck screeched into view, I ran straight to the first officer, spitting out everything I knew, the layout, the estimated number of people, where I last saw smoke thickest, where I lost Stacey. Orders were barked and within minutes, there was structure in the madness.
I grabbed towels, water bottles, anything I could find. People were crying, coughing, bleeding. I handed out whatever I had, pressing cloths to heads, pouring water into open hands. Sweat rolled down my temples as I bent to help another girl when I saw them... Mr. Turner, with Stacey in his arms.
She was pale, clutching at him like her legs couldn't hold her weight. Blood streaked the side of her face.
"Stacey!" I shouted, running to them. "Oh my God... are you okay?"
Her dazed eyes found mine. "Just... lightheaded. I think I hit my head."
Tears blurred my vision. I reached for her but had to step back as medics swarmed her, lifting her gently onto a stretcher. Mr. Turner rested a hand on my shoulder.
"They're taking care of her," he said. "She'll be fine."
I couldn't speak. I wrapped my arms around myself and just nodded. The firefighters got the flames under control quickly after that. Mr. Turner came up beside me once again, this time with a tired but soft smile.
"You did good, Catherine. Real good."
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
He pressed a cold water bottle into my hand. "Your friend will be okay. You did everything you could."
I took it, finally managing a watery smile. "Thank you."
Four long hours later, most of the square was cleared out. Injured people had been taken to hospitals, and Stacey's sister had arrived in a flood of tears, hugging me and sobbing thank-yous before helping Stacey into the car.
The adrenaline was fading. All that was left was the weight in my limbs and a dull ache behind my eyes. I was just starting to consider how I'd get home when Mr. Turner reappeared at my side.
"Come on," he said quietly. "I'll give you a ride."
I wanted to say no. I should've said no. But my body had other plans. I nodded, too tired to argue. The moment I stepped into his car, I regretted it.
The air inside was warm and smelled like him... clean, woodsy, a hint of spice that made my stomach flutter. I hugged myself tightly, trying not to think about anything except the dark streets outside the window.
He slid in beside me and started the engine. "The media's going to have a field day tomorrow."
I winced. "Right. I hadn't even thought about that."
"Might actually be good for the campaign," he added after a moment. "A candidate on the ground. Present. Helping."
I nodded slowly. "It'll look good. Even if it was awful."
He glanced over. "I'm not worried. I've got you."
My heart stuttered. He meant the campaign. Obviously. I tried to convince myself of that as I stared hard at my trembling hands in my lap.
But the tension in the car was growing thick and every breath I took felt like a mistake. Every shift he made in the seat sent heat running across my skin. I needed to get out.
Finally, we pulled up to my house. I reached for the door handle with shaking fingers. Why were my hands trembling this much? But I couldn't get it open. It was stuck, or maybe I was just too exhausted and wired to function. Before I could try again, Mr. Turner reached across, his arm brushing mine. My breath caught in my throat.
He opened the door for me but paused. Our eyes locked. And stayed that way. His gaze flickered to my lips and they parted unconsciously. And like a fool, I licked my lips. Heat flared up my spine. His eyes darkened.
Move, Catherine. Say something. Anything.
But I just sat there.
He leaned in, slowly, giving me every chance to stop him. But as the horny messed girl I was, I didn't. My eyes fluttered shut the second his lips grazed mine.
It was barely a kiss at first. A whisper. A question. Almost like he was asking for permission and I gave him the answer... tilting my head, opening my mouth and he took over. His hand cupped the back of my neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sent warm straight to my core.
I moaned softly, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt. His other hand tangled in my hair as he pulled me closer. It wasn't just a kiss. It was a dam breaking. Weeks maybe months of lingering looks, of "almost" moments and "maybe" touches. It all erupted in that kiss, hot and desperate and inevitable.
But the second it ended, the world came crashing back.
I gasped and jerked away like I'd touched a live wire. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
I didn't wait for a reply. I flung open the door and ran inside. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might knock the walls down from the inside.
Once the door slammed shut behind me, I collapsed against it.
What the hell did I just do?
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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.