Chapter One

Melissa 

The cab ride was silent, my fingers drumming faintly against the windows. The trees passing blurred into a sea of motion. Meanwhile, my world had just stopped.

A letter sat heavy in my bag. A letter that said my mother—Annabelle, the woman I hadn’t seen in three years—was dead.

I still hadn’t fully processed it.

I didn’t really know my father. According to Mom, he died in a car accident when I was just a few days old. She raised me alone, controlling every decision I tried to make. By high school, we were more like rivals than family. She never backed down, and neither did I. She wanted the final say on everything—my clothes, my friends, my future.

College had been my escape.

Then, during my first year, she got married. To a billionaire. Someone she met at a charity dinner. I didn’t even ask his name. Didn’t care. I had never met him or his family. She had found the life she always wanted. I just wanted a simple one.

Chrissie, my best friend, had been my real family ever since. Her parents took me in during the holidays, her little sister constantly grilled me on makeup, and her parents always treated me like family so I was okay with them.

Unlike Mom. Who had kept sending postcards. Snapshots of Paris, Rome, Dubai—scribbled notes asking me to “come home.” As if that place will ever really be home.

When I found out she had cancer, I didn’t believe it. The strong, commanding, larger-than-life Annabelle couldn’t be dying. But the truth settled in eventually. I still didn’t go see her. I couldn’t. I didn’t want the last memory of my mother to be of her with hollow cheeks and tubes in her arms.

And now, the letter just stated :

“She’s dead. You are required to attend the funeral at the Whitmore estate.”

Required. Like it was another class I couldn’t skip.

The cab driver snapped me out of my thoughts.

“We’re here, miss.”

I looked out the window and blinked. This… couldn’t be it.

The estate looked like something straight out of a fantasy novel. A sprawling mansion sat behind iron gates, with a tree-lined path and a waterfall in front of the grand stone steps. It didn’t just say wealth. It screamed. 

I stepped out cautiously, my boots crunching on the gravel as I clutched the letter and my bag.

The front door opened before I could even knock.

A tall man with silver streaks, dark hair and kind eyes met me at the entrance. My stepfather. He smiled, wide and warm, before pulling me into a firm hug.

“Melissa,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I know this can’t be easy.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, stiff in his arms.

He pulled back and gave me a sympathetic look. “How was the trip?”

“Fine.”

“You can call me Micheal. I wish I had more time to help you settle in, but there’s so much going on with the arrangements. Your mother would’ve wanted you to be comfortable, though. We’ll make sure of that.”

I nodded. “Right.”

He gestured behind him, and a few people - staff, clearly, stepped forward. He introduced them one by one: the housekeeper, a butler, and two assistants.

“This is Caroline,” he said, pointing to the housekeeper. “She’ll show you to your room. If you need anything, just ask her.”

Caroline gave a small nod. “It’s an honor to have you here, Miss Melissa.”

I gave her a polite smile. “Thanks.”

She reached for one of my bags while I hoisted the other two. I thought we’d head for the staircase, but she walked toward an elevator almost hidden in a side hallway.

“An elevator?” I muttered.

She chuckled. “The master thought it would be more convenient, especially when guests stay on the top floor.”

“Oh. Right. Fancy.”

The elevator doors closed, and I leaned back against the cool wall. The silence was heavy.

When the doors opened again, I stepped out behind Caroline, my eyes wandering over the hallway’s intricate decor. Paintings lined the wall—portraits, landscapes, abstract pieces.

One in particular made me pause. A woman, half-shadowed, breastfeeding a child. It was abstract but moving. It was raw. 

I stood there, lost in the strokes of paint, until I heard a voice behind me.

“Not many people stop to look at that one.”

I turned quickly.

He had gray eyes. The kind that weren’t just gray but stormy, swirling with something underneath. His jaw was defined, hair slicked back. He wore a crisp navy shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to hint at strong forearms and tattoos lining his arms and hands. He looked the same age as my step father but was better looking. 

“I didn’t see you there,” I said, startled.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he replied, his voice smooth but low, with a strange edge.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know who he was. The air between us felt charged. Almost wrong.

“I… um… I should go,” I said, breaking eye contact.

He didn’t move. Just stood there watching me as I walked away.

I caught up to Caroline, who was waiting near a door slightly ajar. The room was massive. Gray and white themed, like the man’s eyes.

Damn it. Why was I still thinking about that?

“This will be your room, Miss,” Caroline said, pushing the door open wider. “Dinner’s at seven. You can rest or freshen up.”

“Thanks,” I said.

She nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

I set my bags down and walked over to the vanity. The view stole my breath. Endless fields and gardens stretched out before me. From here, I could see the sun painting streaks across the horizon.

Beautiful. But also… surreal.

I sank onto the edge of the bed. This was my life now. At least, for the time being.

And whoever that man was… 

—-------------------------------------------------

Dinner was an awkward affair. Just Michael, me, and the mystery man sat at the long, candle-lit table. Caroline and the chef had arranged a beautiful meal; the scent of chicken and potatoes filled the air, but I could barely eat. I kept picking at my plate, pretending to be interested in the food.

But I wasn’t.

Not with this man watching me like that.

His eyes were dark and penetrating, never leaving me. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze that made my skin prickle. It was more than curiosity. It was like he could see straight through me. It made my fork feel heavy, my throat dry.

Michael finally cleared his throat. “Melissa, how have you been settling in? Is the room alright?”

I looked up, startled, and gave a quick, polite smile. “Fine.”

My voice came out small, tight. I looked up at the man, with his well-defined arms and ripped chest that seemed it could burst out of his shirt any minute.

I could gobble him up. 

Melissa get a hold of yourself

Michael nodded, then turned to the man. “Melissa, this is Jamal Adams - my best friend and the co-founder of Withmoore Industries. He’s also the C.O.O. He’s here to support me during all this and help with the arrangements.”

Jamal gave me a short nod but didn’t say a word. Just kept watching. His posture was relaxed, yet controlled - like someone used to power, and used to hiding something beneath it. Tattoos peeked from under his rolled-up sleeves, and his jaw was dusted with just the right amount of scruff. There was something dark about him. And something magnetic.

I nodded slowly, hiding the fact that his gaze made me wet. “Nice to meet you.”

Still, he said nothing.

Michael offered a strained smile. “The funeral is in two weeks. I hope you can make yourself at home. If you need anything - or if you just want to talk - I’m here.”

There was genuine concern in his tone, which softened me a little.

“Thanks,” I replied quietly.

He pushed his chair back. “I have to get back to work. I’ll be in my study.”

And with that, he left, disappearing up the stairs.

Now it was just me and Jamal.

The silence wrapped around us like a second skin. Heavy and suffocating.

I tried to look anywhere but at him, but I could feel his eyes on me. Just watching and studying me. I shifted in my seat, struggling to breathe under the weight of his stare.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice tight. “I’m going to head up.”

Without waiting for a reply, I stood and left the dining room. My heart pounded harder with each step. I reached my room and shut the door behind me, exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I forgot to lock it. My only thought was the hot shower I so desperately needed.

I undressed quickly, leaving my clothes scattered across the floor. The shower water was conveniently hot, cascading down my tense muscles and sensitive under, easing the storm of thoughts in my head.

Why was Jamal looking at me like that?

What was his problem?

I stayed under the water longer than necessary, letting it wash away the confusion, the discomfort—and the arousal I didn’t want to admit was there. Finally, I turned it off and tiptoed out, still dripping. My towel. Damn. I’d forgotten it in my room.

I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped into the room, completely naked. And froze.

Jamal was standing in the middle of the room. Slightly facing the window, his sleeves still rolled up, chest slightly exposed. I could see the ink on his arms, the hair on his chest, the way his shoulders flexed under his shirt.

He turned.

His eyes locked onto me.

I should have screamed. Should have covered myself. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. My body refused to move.

His gaze traveled down slowly. From my damp hair, to my lips, to my pink budded nipples - already responding to his stare. He took in everything. My soft curves, my slick skin, the patch between my thighs I’d kept neatly trimmed earlier that day. His look wasn’t crude. It was reverent. He looked almost…. Hungry.

I swallowed hard. My pulse thundered in my ears.

“Why aren’t you trying to cover up, Melissa?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

It rolled through me like smoke. Straight to my core.

“I… I…” I stammered, eyes wide.

He took a step toward me, leaned down and whispered in my ear. “You shouldn’t have let me see you like this,” he said, his tone shifting to something darker.

I pushed me back and covered myself with the towel. “You better leave or I’ll….” 

Before I could finish “Now I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re going to beg me not to stop. Do you understand?”

A gasp escaped my lips. My legs trembled.

“Do you understand?” he repeated, firmer now.

I nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice hard and soft at the same time.

He bent and, without any hesitation or warning, he flicked his tongue across my nipple in one long, deliberate stroke. I shuddered, biting my lips trying not to make a sound. 

“Don’t bite your lip like that,” he said, brushing a thumb over my chin. “Unless you want me to bend you over my knee and spank you. You want that, Melissa?”

“I…. I don’t know,” I whispered.

“I think you do.”

He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his shirt, and motioned for me to come closer.

I didn’t think. I just moved. My body obeyed him even before my mind could register the action.

When I reached him, he pinned me against the wall with one hand. The other took both of mine and pressed them above my head. Then his mouth found my nipple again, sucking hard. I cried out.

“Fuck…. Jamal…”

His free hand slid between my legs, his fingers slicking over my wetness.

“So wet for me,” he growled. “So fucking responsive.”

I was panting, moaning, trembling.

Then suddenly—he stopped.

I whimpered, desperate.

“You want more, don’t you?” he asked, cocking his head. “You’re so impatient. I want you to cum on my cock. Turn around.”

I did as instructed, and the next thing I knew, he had me pressed up against the wall. Both hands gripped my waist as he slammed into my pussy with such precise force, I cried out. One hand slid to my throat, the other tangled tightly in my hair. Then the pounding began - relentless, punishing. He angled his hips just right, and with every thrust, my sweet spot took a direct, delicious beating. I was moaning uncontrollably, soaking wet, a mess of want and need.

He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.

“Ah, fuck,” he growled. “You’re so fucking tight and sweet, Melissa. Your pussy’s gripping my dick like it never wants to let go.”

Then his hand found my nipples, twisting them so hard I screamed - and exploded. My climax tore through me, hot and blinding. I saw stars. But he didn’t stop.

Instead, he pulled out, spun me around, and bent me over the table beside the window—facing the garden. From outside, anyone who looked up at my window could see us, raw and animalistic, fucking like we’d lost control.

His thrusts were deep, rhythmic, merciless. I screamed. Moaned. Begged. His name poured from my lips like a prayer I couldn't stop chanting. Another orgasm was already building, rising in my belly, crawling up my spine. His cock was so big, so deep - I could swear there’d be a gaping hole inside me by the time he was done and I didn't care. 

I was too far gone.

“Tell me you love my cock,” he demanded.

“What?” I moaned.

“Say, I love your cock, daddy.”

I hesitated, then… he spanked me.

“Say it, Melissa.”

“I love your cock, Daddy!” I cried.

He grinned at our reflection in the glass and picked up the pace.

I could feel him close. I was close, too.

He lifted me so my back pressed to his chest. One hand tugged my nipple, the other stroked my clit. His mouth sucked on the base of my neck. And with one perfect stroke of his fingers - I shattered again, the intensity of my orgasm rippling through me. My scream filled the room. My body jerked, spasming.

He groaned loud in my ear, then stiffened - emptying himself deep inside me, flooding my insides with his hot essence. 

When he pulled out, I felt his cum dripping down my thighs. My legs barely held me up.

Wordlessly, he scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom. He used tissues to gently clean between my legs, then carried me back to the bed and laid me down.

I watched him move to where his shirt lay on a chair. He picked something from the pocket.

My phone.

“You left this on the dining table,” he said simply. “I came to return it.”

He placed it on my nightstand.

Then he turned to me at the doorway, his voice softer now. “Goodnight, Melissa.”

I stared at him. Unable to speak or move. Then the door clicked shut behind him. I blinked at the closed door, my heart still racing.

What the hell just happened? That was my last thought before everything went dark as I fell into a deep sleep.