Novel-novel oleh Aliast

Sometimes, I wondered how on earth my life had managed to twist itself into this particular chaos.A CEO should be able to walk into a shopping mall unnoticed. But when your husband is a billionaire whose idea of ‘fun dad duty’ included juggling designer bags in both hands and letting your daughter climb his back like a tree, being inconspicuous was impossible.There was Sasha. My little star. At nine, she carried herself with the kind of confidence that made adults smile nervously. She was sharp-eyed, dramatic, and already terrifyingly good at manipulating her papa.Beside her trailed Lucian, who at six looked like a smaller, sulkier copy of Misha, right down to the stubborn jaw and furrowed brows. His dark eyes flicked constantly to his sister, wary as though at any moment she might strike. Which, frankly, she might.“Papa, I want this one,” Sasha declared, plucking a hideously overpriced plush toy from the shelf. She brandished it like a trophy, curls bouncing as she pushed it towa

The house came into view just as the sun began sliding down behind the ridge.Not the penthouse. Not the cold steel and glass tower where everything echoed. No more. We moved out of that when I found out Lorraine got pregnant with our second child.This place was ours. A home perched high on the hill, with its wide windows catching the last gold of the light, gardens stretching behind it like a promise. A fortress in its own right, yes, but alive, warm.Sebastian pulled up first, Sasha already bouncing in her car seat, craning her neck to see if balloons might be tied to the gate. Camille sat beside me in the second SUV, the baby tucked against her shoulder, her hand cupping his head like he was spun from glass.I stepped out, the cool air biting, and moved immediately to Lorraine’s door. She tried to brush me off, of course she did, but I slid my arm around her waist anyway, easing her down with deliberate care. Her body was still frail from the hospital, her lips pale, but her chin

Eight Months Later___ The room smelled of antiseptic and sweat. Beeping monitors and the low, practiced cadence of nurses filled the air, but none of it mattered. My entire universe was bent over the hospital bed, skin damp with exertion, teeth gritted as she tried not to scream.Lorraine.Her hair clung to her forehead in wild strands, her jaw tight enough I thought it might crack. And her tiny, deceptively delicate hand was crushing mine with the kind of strength I hadn’t thought possible outside a combat field.“Fuck—Lorraine,” I hissed under my breath, the bones in my knuckles screaming. “You will break me.”Her head whipped toward me, eyes blazing, her voice hoarse but sharp. “This is your fault, Misha. You and your goddamn dick.”For a moment, I didn’t even register the words. My brain stalled.My wife. My elegant, razor-sharp, calculating wife. The woman who could walk into a boardroom and dismantl

The day after tomorrow came like a slow tide, steady but inevitable. By the time evening rolled in, Sasha was curled up in the little daybed behind the partition of my office that she called her kingdom disguised as a ‘nap nook,’ complete with her plush dog and Sparkle draped dramatically across her legs. She was out cold, her curls spilling over the pillow, thumb still tucked near her lips.I was finishing the last set of reports when the doors opened. Misha’s presence filled the space first, James trailed in at his shoulder. “Success,” Misha said simply, setting a small canvas bag onto the edge of my desk. His voice carried that low rumble that always pulled something deep in me. “No losses, objective complete. And,” he reached inside and pulled out a wrapped bundle, “Souvenirs.”James snorted. “Souvenirs. Like we didn’t nearly freeze our asses off on some godforsaken border crossing.” He flopped onto one of the leather chairs opposite me, all

The nausea passed, but the heaviness in my chest didn’t.I dressed quickly, tucked Sasha’s curls into a neat braid, and loaded her into the backseat of the armored SUV. She chattered the whole drive, clutching her stuffed lion and kicking her little legs against the seat like she was marching in her own parade.By the time we pulled up to the glass-fronted building that bore our name—Ashford Security & Investigations—my coffee-induced panic had dulled to a quiet thrum under my ribs. Four years, and this company had gone from a desk and a handful of old contacts to a sprawling network of field agents, cyber specialists, investigators, and contractors. And now, my daughter walked through those doors like she owned them.“Good morning, Mrs. Ashford,” the receptionist, Lina, greeted, her gaze immediately dropping to the bundle of curls at my side. Her entire face melted. “And good morning, Sasha. My goodness, is that a new dress?”Sasha twir

Five Years Later___ The first thing I felt was his warmth.The second was his groan.I smiled against his lips, trailing kisses across his jaw, slow and purposeful. “Morning,” I whispered, already nipping at the stubble on his chin.Misha cracked one eye open, the corners crinkling with that lazy grin that had only gotten more dangerous with age. “Lorraine, Angel,” he rumbled, voice gravelly with sleep, “You’re insatiable.”I laughed softly, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And whose fault is that?”He shifted under me, his hand sliding down my back, pulling me closer. “Mine, apparently.” His smile turned wicked. “Five years, and you still can’t get enough of me. Hungry and horny every morning, huh?”Heat flooded my cheeks. I pinched his side, making him flinch. “Shut up.”He chuckled, the sound deep and infuriatingly smug. “Ow—fine, fine. But it’s true.” His lips brushed my ear, voice dropping to that low tease that always melted me. “You used to say I was the one

Of course Elian had a yacht.Of course.After the private jet, I should’ve known. A three-hundred-foot floating villain lair was exactly the sort of drama Aurelian Morgenstein lived for. I was starting to suspect he didn’t walk anywhere. Like, poof, he just arrived.And yeah, it wasn’t hard to spot which one was his.The marina was stuffed with gleaming white yachts, all lined up like Botoxed pageant queens. Names were scrawled across their shiny asses in delicate navy script. Greyson, Andromeda, and, God help me, Kraken My Heart. I was genuinely offended on behalf of the sea.Then I saw his.It didn’t bob or glitter. It brooded.Jet-black, sharp-angled, waxed to within an inch of its life. The deck was slatted in honey-colored wood and lit like a designer spa commercial. It didn’t look like it was meant to float. It looked like it was supposed to rise from the depths and eat the rest of the fleet.I caught the

There were two cars waiting when we landed. Sleek black Ferraris idled at the edge of the tarmac, engines low and menacing like they were waiting for someone more important than us.It took a double-glance at the Port Bellagio plates to remind myself I’d actually gone through with this reckless plan.I stepped off the jet with Elian at my side and Isla trailing behind, her steps uneven. She clung to his arm with pale knuckles and a wince behind her lashes.“Why are there two cars?”One of the blond, broad-shouldered twins already strode ahead, answering without breaking pace. “She’s riding separately,” he said, jerking his chin toward Isla. “Too sick for crowds right now.”I couldn’t remember which twin was which, just that one of them was named Mikkel. It might’ve been this one. Or the one still behind us. Impossible to tell when they both looked like they were carved out of the same mountain.“Motion sickness?” I aske

Elian won the first hand. Full house. I had nothing. He leaned back, insufferably smug, and stretched out his fingers like a cat flexing claws.“Favorite movie,” he said. Not a real question, just a statement tossed out like bait.“That’s what you’re opening with?”“You said I could ask anything,” he drawled, eyes gleaming. “And I’m curious.”God. Fine.“Okay,” I said, stalling a beat. “Well… I guess…”And then I winced, already regretting the words before they fully left my mouth.“The Holiday,” I muttered. “Legally Blonde. Magic Mike. And, um… Twilight.”“Maeve,” his grin was slow and savage as he purred, “That is tragic.”“They’re comforting,” I said quickly, a little defensively. “Nostalgic. Shut up.”“Tell me you also have an emotional connection to early-2000s pop while you’re at it,” he mused. “Dare I hope for Avril Lavigne? Or…” his eyes sparkled with malicious glee, “Hilary

The matte-black jet waiting on the tarmac made a lot more sense.We parked directly beside it, not a terminal in sight. The driver—Mikkel, I learned when Elian addressed him by name—stepped out and started unloading our bags. Then he circled back to open my door like this was just a regular Tuesday and not an actual Bond movie.Elian stepped out, casual as ever, like this was all entirely expected.I slid out of the car, brushing my jeans, and crossed my arms against the wind sweeping across the tarmac. “You have a plane.”“Yes,” Elian’s voice was all silk and steel. “Quite a nice one.”I looked up at him, squinting. “Stolen?”He scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t Grand Theft Auto, Maeve. I didn’t steal a jet.” He smiled. That slow, dangerous smile that meant trouble. “I stole the money that bought it.”I stared at him. Just stared. Blankly.In the past thirty minutes, he’d casually confessed to

We were going to Port Bellagio today. The car was already waiting a half block away from Evergarden, so we had to walk there passing hopeful club-goers queueing by the pedestrian. Elian walked faster. I had to half-jog to keep up. My legs were jelly, and my head was still swimming. All thanks to what happened yesterday. The reminiscence, the surrender, the desire to repeat it again and again despite it all. Everything felt too loud, too sharp, like my nerves had been tuned an octave too high.There was movement in my peripheral. A blur, then a burst of noise of laughter and footsteps, and suddenly some guy in his twenties broke from the crowd and stumbled into our path.“Wait—yo, hold up!”He grinned like an idiot, phone already raised. The flash hit just as I lifted my head. Blinding.Shit.My stomach plummeted. I knew that sound. I knew that flash. That wasn’t just some drunk idiot taking a selfie, but that

My blood turned to ice, heart skidding into my throat.Isla leaned against the doorway like she owned the place, arms crossed, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. “Seems like I'm late to the party.”I scrambled, dragging the sheet up over my chest as if it could somehow hide the fact that Elian’s body was still very much flush against mine. “Oh my God.”“So much for a warning, huh,” Isla said, dry as dust.Elian didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, he laughed. A really loud, shameless laugh.“She’s a cop,” Isla continued with a grimace, clearly relishing her role as buzzkill. “Or were you too busy fucking her knee-deep to notice the badge shoved up her—”“She’s not a cop anymore,” Elian cut in smoothly, still breathless, his arm casually slung around my bare shoulder like this wasn’t a living nightmare. “She’s a journalist now. Technically.”Isla arched an eyebrow. “That’s supposed to be better?”Elian shr