LOGINEMILY GRAYSON'S The kiss lasted longer than either of us intended. Or maybe exactly as long as Alex intended. With him, it was hard to tell. By the time we finally pulled apart, I was smiling so much my cheeks hurt. Alex looked entirely too pleased with himself, which only made me roll my eyes."Don't.""Don't what?" he asked innocently."Whatever smug thing you're doing."His smirk widened. "I have no idea what you're talking about."Liar.Before I could argue, a familiar voice drifted from outside the bedroom."Dinner is ready!"Teresa.I immediately brightened. Alex sighed dramatically. I laughed."You sound jealous.""I am."That startled a laugh out of me. "You are jealous of Teresa.""She keeps stealing your attention.""She's feeding me.""So do I.""Alex," I warned."I do love feeding you."I covered my face. "Oh my God.""What?" he asked."You make normal sentences sound possessive.""That's because they are."I laughed so hard I nearly stumbled. Alex caught my waist before
EMILY GRAYSON'S Taking my hand, Alex lead me toward the house. The massive front doors opened before we even reached them. The moment I saw who was standing there, I froze. "Teresa?" My voice came out as a surprised squeak. Beside her stood Paola, her granddaughter, both of them smiling warmly. "Teresa!" I practically ran toward her. She barely had time to open her arms before I threw mine around her. She laughed softly and hugged me back tightly. Immediately, that familiar warmth settled inside my chest. I had always loved Teresa's motherly affection—the way she fussed over everyone, the way she somehow made every place feel like home. When I finally pulled away, I hugged Paola too. "You are both here?" "Welcome to Santorini, Emily," they said together. I turned toward Alex in disbelief. "How did you get them here?" The happiness in my voice was impossible to hide. Alex looked entirely too pleased with himself. Before he could answer, Sergio stepped forward."It was my idea." I lo
EMILY GRAYSON'S The aircraft touched down smoothly. My excitement had been building for the last twenty minutes, and the moment the wheels met the runway, it became impossible to hide. Alex noticed. Of course he did. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he watched me staring out the window. "You're excited." I looked at him. "What? How can you tell I'm trying to act normal?" "You're failing." I gasped. "I am completely calm." His eyebrow lifted. I immediately pointed toward the window. "Look at that water, Alex." The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the runway. Bright blue. Almost unreal. Like someone had turned the saturation up on the entire island. His smile widened. "Calm down, Emily," I said to myself. Alex laughed softly. The sound warmed something inside my chest. A few minutes later, the aircraft door opened. Warm Mediterranean air rushed into the cabin. The scent of saltwater drifted inside. Sunshine flooded the entrance. And suddenly,
EMILY GRAYSON'S I didn't know how long I'd been asleep. The soft mattress beneath me felt unfamiliar as I slowly opened my eyes. For a brief moment, confusion settled over me. Then I remembered: the plane, Alex, Santorini. A smile immediately touched my lips.The bedroom was bathed in warm afternoon light. Sunlight poured through the windows, painting golden patterns across the sheets. I stretched lazily and immediately realized someone was sitting beside me. My gaze shifted. Alex. Of course. He was seated in the chair near the bed, his tablet abandoned on the small table beside him. He wasn't working; he was watching me. Again.I narrowed my eyes. "Were you staring at me while I slept?" I asked. His expression remained completely serious. "No," he lied. "Alexander." A faint smirk appeared on his lips. "Maybe." I groaned and buried my face in the pillow. "That's weird." "I know." "You admit it's weird?" "I didn't say I'd stop." I laughed.The sound earned a look of quiet satisf
EMILY GRAYSON'S The flight was smoother than I expected. Not that I had much experience flying on private jplane. The moment we boarded, I spent nearly ten minutes staring at the interior in disbelief. Everything was ridiculous: soft cream-colored leather seating, polished wood finishes, and fresh flowers arranged throughout the cabin. And somewhere farther back is an actual sleeping compartment—a real bedroom. Because apparently, Alex believed commercial aircraft standards were beneath him.Now, I sat curled up on one of the oversized couches while Alex occupied the seat beside me. One arm rested along the back of the sofa behind me, and the other held a tablet. Working. Of course. The man could probably run an empire during the apocalypse.I sipped my coffee and narrowed my eyes at him. "You promised this was a vacation." "It is." "Then why are you working?" Without looking up, he replied, "I'm not working." I pointed toward the screen. "There are spreadsheets." "Vacation sprea
EMILY GRAYSON'S An hour later, the mansion was in complete chaos. Or at least, Lexi had made sure it was. "You forgot something." Lexi's said "I didn't." "You definitely did." I sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. "Lexi." She pointed dramatically at my suitcase. "Sunscreen." "I packed sunscreen." "Extra sunscreen." "Lexi." "Emergency sunscreen." I stared at her. She stared right back. Neither of us blinked. "She's been doing this for forty minutes," Haze informed me from the hallway. "Forty-three," Raphael corrected. "Why are you timing it?" "Science." "That's not science." "It could be." I laughed despite myself. The entire mansion had somehow become invested in our departure. Sergio was helping load luggage downstairs. Since he was Alex's personal bodyguard, he would be traveling with us. Raphael was pretending to supervise while doing absolutely nothing useful. Haze was recording everything for future blackmail purposes. And Lexi had
EMILY GRAYSONThree days passed. Three days measured not in hours, but in pain. Time didn’t move normally here. It dragged, stretched, and bled into itself until there was no real difference between morning and night—just cycles of suffering and silence. All I received were a set of dirty cloth
***EMILY GRAYSON **“Initially,” Declon began smoothly, folding his hands behind his back, “my cousin was supposed to kidnap you.” His tone was calm, polished—like he was discussing a business arrangement instead of my life. His gaze flicked briefly to the cameras. “And keep you for himself. He cla
***EMAIL GRAYSON'S***"Damn, Asher. Save some for the video,” someone muttered as the cabin door swung open. Video? My pulse didn’t spike—it sharpened. They were going to film this. For leverage. For an audience. For someone to watch. “Cut her loose and clean her up.” The voice came fro
**EMAIL GRAYSON'S**“No!” I screamed, my voice tearing out of me as my knees buckled. “Please—no! Don’t shoot him!”The man laughed softly, like he was savoring every second of it,every crack in my voice, every ounce of fear spilling out of me.“Yeah… there it is,” he murmured. “That’s the sound I







