An erotic, emotional, and dramatic forbidden love story between siblings. This sure is a must to read!
An erotic, emotional, and dramatic forbidden love story between siblings. This sure is a must to read!
(August 1st, 1994:
Traveling on the 121 towards Auburn;)
Sitting in the passenger seat of the two-year-old Civic sedan, Lena kept her gaze fixed on the dull, rain-soaked scenery slipping past the window. She couldn't help but wonder what she'd be doing now, had things turned out differently; if she still had her family and her home...
It was a weekend evening, just after six, so Lena would probably be upstairs, watching her mother get ready. Eve would be asking Lena's advice on what to wear, and her dad would be in the bathroom, having a shower; then they'd go out to town, while she stayed at home with her big brother, Matt; they'd watch movies together on the couch and order takeaway food when they felt too lazy to cook. Sometimes Matt would let her share his beer, making her promise not to tell their parents.
But that had all changed now; her dad wasn't there anymore; he didn't come into her bedroom after he thought she'd gone to sleep and tell her how much he loved her; mom wouldn't be there to keep her in check, telling her to clean her room and do her homework, to be nice to Matt; Matt the thought of losing him had scared her most.
Afterward, she'd felt grimly surprised to find that she missed her older brother more than anything else. He used to make her so angry and upset at times with his teasing but then he wasn't there, and she would have given anything to have him call her 'Brat' or 'Kiddo' once more; to see him start university in a few weeks or to have him tease her about being too scrawny.
"Why me?" she thought savagely. "Why did I have to survive and they all die? It shouldn't have been this way!"
The events of that night had repeated in her mind, like some tormenting slow-motion picture, replaying over and over again. She knew, no matter how much she dwelt upon it, the past couldn't be changed.
The artic' had come from nowhere; he shouldn't have even been on that road, she'd heard the policeman say; he said the guy had got lost and had to detour. He should have been traveling south away from them, on a road nearly fifteen miles away, but there he was, just split seconds away from them as Lena looked up...
Her dad was driving, her mom flicking through the radio channels while Matt and Lena argued in the back. They were on a country road, stopping for gas, before heading out onto the 89 towards New Hampshire. They were going to see a concert; some friend of their dads played saxophone in a band and had invited them all along.
Lena raised an eyebrow at her brother, whose face was all moody and sullen, his green eyes sparkling with ill-temper.
"Shut it...brat." He said calmly, though there was a tone in his voice that suggested severe irritation. His girlfriend was often a sore subject, especially of late, but Lena wanted to tease him; he'd been ignoring her for days, only acknowledging her presence by calling her 'brat'; she was angry with him for treating her like this.
"You're just mad because you and Natalie had a fight," she said with a shrug as if his bad temper wasn't upsetting her at all. Inside though, she felt hurt and wanted to cry.
"Mom, will you tell her?! She doesn't know what she's talking about." Matt exclaimed suddenly, glaring at his sister. She just narrowed her eyes at him, then turned to stare nonchalantly out the window.
Eve Harris looked over her shoulder and shook her head in despair. "Oh Matthew..." she sighed, "you're twenty-one years old...don't be so childish. Besides, Lena's right...you do take it out on us whenever you're having a bad day." She said, in a tone that suggested kindness mixed with a sharp twist of dire warning.
Matt looked outraged for a moment, but his manners wouldn't allow him to answer his mother with spite and his intelligence knew better than to try it.
"I didn't know I did..." he said, knowing, deep down, that his mother was right; she always was. Lowering his gaze to his knees, he muttered. "Sorry." His mother nodded and turned her attention back to the front.
Matt looked over at his little sister and realized then, that there were tears in her eyes. Her hair fell across her face, the golden brown color of a dormouse. She was far too skinny to look like a healthy kid. Her arms were folded and her green eyes were etched into an angry, indifferent scowl. He knew her well enough to know what that meant; he'd hurt her and she was trying not to cry.
Shit...he hadn't meant to do that, he just really didn't want to talk about Natalie; his girlfriend of four months was by no means a virgin; she was only a year younger than him and she'd slept with half of his friends at college, yet she still hadn't slept with him; it was driving him mad! He couldn't exactly explain to his twelve-year-old sister that the reason he'd been moody was that he hadn't had sex in four months, could he?! Thankfully, sexual frustration wasn't something Lena would understand.
He made himself a mental note, reminding himself not to shut her out and that it wasn't her fault. He leaned over and poked her playfully in the rib, making her wriggle and laugh. It was nice to see her smile at him again. Matt saw his mother shake her head in the front seat.
"Sorry, kiddo." He said softly. "I guess I'm a bit grouchy lately, huh?"
Lena looked over at him and smiled. "That's the understatement of the millennia." She grinned mischievously and Matt began to tickle her for being so cheeky. He couldn't help but think what a great girl she'd be when she got older; a girl with half her charm or intelligence would have it made and add that together with her good looks and wit...well, he hated to think what she'd be like. He knew he'd have to keep her indoors, away from all men, until she was thirty...at least. And even then he might want to interview each man that looked in her direction.
Eve returned her attention to tuning the radio, while Matt and Lena continued to play fight. Her husband, Jimmy, was telling her of the time he and his friend were caught smoking pot in their college dorms. "We didn't even consider the smoke detectors. The whole building had to be evacuated because they thought there was a fire..." he was saying.
They came to a junction. Lena managed to jab Matt in the stomach and he rolled over, appearing to be in agony. Lena jabbed him again, knowing this to be one of Matt's little tricks to make her think she'd really hurt him. He laughed and began to tickle her again. As her father pulled away, her eyes flickered to the window over Matt's shoulder and there it was, like a cargo ship coming into harbor far too fast; the huge 18-wheeler came roaring down the road towards their emerging vehicle. There was no time to speak and nothing that could have been done if there was.
The last thing Lena remembered before the collision was Matt's face; his blue eyes were full of laughter as he looked up at her, then they'd darkened as he'd met her eyes and his skin paled to see her horrified expression; he knew they were about to die; his instinct told him that.
Numb with shock, Lena had leaped towards him as far as she could and he'd done the same to her. She buried her face into the warmth of his chest. Just as she felt his arms pull her close and his body moves over her, to protect her, she felt the truck hit the car and her world was slammed into impenetrable darkness. She knew then that her life was over.
Three weeks later, she'd woken from her coma in hospital, strapped to all kinds of tubes and machines, uncertain of her name or how she'd come to be there. She could hear a voice, echoing from her dreams, pleading with her to open her eyes; "Come on kiddo, please...you gotta wake up...these doctors want to help you...I love you, Lena, please wake up..."
But whoever it was wasn't here now. She was alone in that cold hospital and it seemed so dark and eerie, like a graveyard. She thought how hospitals, ironically, were kind of like graveyards, except that there was no frantic bleeping there.
What was that bleeping anyway? She tried to move her head to have to look, but as soon as did, searing, hot pain shot through her like a blade. At the same time, quite suddenly, she remembered who she was and why she was here and the pain of it was more intense than anything she felt physically.
The doctor had come rushing into the room at that point, followed by a dark-haired nurse. He was a tall man with thin, grey-streaked hair; she was shorter, with tear-stained cheeks and large, dark eyes. She'd obviously been crying.
"Glad to see you're awake...we weren't sure if you'd come through." The man said, approaching her bed. "I'm Dr. Taylor and this is your nurse, Heather Jansen. Can you tell me how you're feeling honey?"
Lena looked him in the eyes and opened her mouth to speak. "W-where..." her voice was dry and painful; "Where are my family?" she managed. She could barely speak, but she didn't care; she needed answers...
Her life changes when a handsome billionaire saves her from her step-brother trying to kiss her. She falls in love with him but he's keeping something from her. This is a forbidden love story that leads to a suspenseful end...
Five years of devotion ended when Brynn was left at the altar, watching Richard rush to his true love. Knowing she could never thaw his cold heart, Brynn walked away, ready to start over. After a night of drinking, she woke beside the last man she should ever cross-Nolan, her brother's arch-enemy. As she tried to escape, he caught her, murmuring, "You kissed me all night. Leaving isn't an option." The world saw Nolan as cold and distant, but with Brynn, he indulged her every desire. He even bought her a whole village and held her close, his voice low, deep, and endlessly tempting, his robe falling open to reveal his toned abs. "Want to feel it?"
Vesper's marriage to Julian Sterling was a gilded cage. One morning, she woke naked beside Damon Sterling, Julian's terrifying brother, then found a text: Julian's mistress was pregnant. Her world shattered, but the real nightmare had just begun. Julian's abuse escalated, gaslighting Vesper, funding his secret life. Damon, a germaphobic billionaire, became her unsettling anchor amidst his chaos. As "Iris," Vesper exposed Julian's mistress, Serena Sharp, sparking brutal war: poisoned drinks, a broken leg, and the horrifying truth-Julian murdered her parents, trapping Vesper in marriage. The man she married was a killer. Broken and betrayed, Vesper was caught between monstrous brothers, burning with injustice. Refusing victimhood, Vesper reclaimed her identity. Fueled by vengeance, she allied with Damon, who vowed to burn his empire for her. Julian faced justice, but matriarch Eleanor's counterattack forced Vesper's choice as a hitman aimed for her.
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
For three years, I was the perfect, invisible wife. My husband, Jaden, called the songs I poured my soul into "trash," then secretly fed them to his pop-star mistress to make her famous. Then one night, after being drugged at a gala, I woke up in a stranger's bed. It wasn't just the betrayal that shattered me; it was the soul-deep certainty that this powerful, dangerous man was my true fated mate. I fled home in a panic, only to find a message on Jaden's phone confirming my worst fears. His mistress, the woman singing my songs on the radio, was pregnant with the baby he'd always told me I was too weak to carry. The nightmare deepened when I learned the identity of the man from the hotel. He was Carter Mcclain, the ruthless Alpha King-and my husband's older brother. He looked at me with eyes that knew my secret, his cruel smirk promising that my life was now a game for his amusement. Jaden had stolen my music, my dream of a family, and my future, leaving me trapped between his betrayal and his terrifying brother. He thought he had broken me, leaving me with nothing. He forgot he left me with the rage that wrote the songs. And I was about to write their final, brutal verse.
Maia grew up a pampered heiress-until the real daughter returned and framed her, sending Maia to prison with help from her fiancé and family. Four years later, free and married to Chris, a notorious outcast, everyone assumed Maia was finished. They soon discovered she was secretly a famed jeweler, elite hacker, celebrity chef, and top game designer. As her former family begged for help, Chris smiled calmly. "Honey, let's go home." Only then did Maia realize her "useless" husband was a legendary tycoon who'd adored her from the start.
I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."
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