LOGINI closed my eyes as a kiss brushed my bare neck, warm, and it lingered, while I dragged the brush through my hair. My thoughts floated somewhere far away from my head.There was a dull ache poking at my heart as memories replayed. I thought maybe if I’d had more time, I would’ve taken her hand and let her speak.Or maybe not.I was hurt that she’d made the very choice she’d raised me never to make. But what hurt more was knowing my father was still completely in the dark.How had she even gotten close to Douglas? My mother chose her circles carefully. Apparently, it only ever depended on who could benefit her most.“You’re zoning out,” Jack murmured, his arms slipping around my waist from behind, hugging me from behind. “You’re thinking about what happened, aren’t you?”His warmth pulled me back before my thoughts could go deeper.Whenever Jack was close, I felt safe. I felt… home.“Mom never begged for anything,” I whispered, the image of her gripping my wrist flashing behind my eyes
My fingers tightened around the edge of the table as my mother laughed.Laughed.As if she hadn’t just detonated my entire night by walking in on the arm of the very man I least expected her to be with.My mother—a perfectionist. A woman who would never associate herself with anyone she deemed tainted, people she called born by mistake, raised by failure, living poorly.She drilled it into my head for years: never do anything stupid that would ruin our family’s name. Never taint the hard work she and my father poured into raising us.And yet—here she was.Doing the exact thing she had warned me against almost my entire life.Douglas De Loughrey leaned closer to her, murmuring something in her ear. She tilted her head, smiling softly and almost shy. As if whatever he said had stirred butterflies in her stomach.I knew my mother had a sharp tongue. I always believed my parents had the strongest relationship—flawed, yes, but unbreakable beneath the manners that tortured everyone who brea
“What? I already said I’m sorry, okay?” Jack grumbled as I glared at him from the passenger seat, his hands tight around the steering wheel while he drove us home.“You can’t just take jealousy away from a man. Especially when… Arthur’s—well, he was more of an ideal man than me. But I’m more handsome, obviously," he added in mutter.I wasn’t even saying a word, but he was too guilty to let the silence go. He kept stewing over what had happened, irritated with himself for being jealous and even more irritated that he couldn’t stop.“Other than that, he was the original guy who liked you. Not me. I was just the second guy, and…” He trailed off, exhaling heavily. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice dropping as he stole a quick glance at me—only to find me staring at him the entire time.I wasn’t tired. Just… amused. Watching him sulk like a jealous high school boy was strangely entertaining.“And who the hell was that Brian anyway?” he suddenly snapped, his frustration bubbling back up. “Why
Arthur had been an orphan for most of his life until the Winehouses decided to take him in as part of their family, and that was a story that had already been told countless times.He had accepted that version of his life long ago, to the point where he found peace in the life he was given and the one he built for himself.But fate and destiny had a way of interfering when things were finally calm.“If she really is your mother, give her a chance to prove it. Give her a chance to explain herself,” I said after hearing everything that had been weighing on him. “Everyone has their own story to tell. You’re a great man, Arthur—a very understanding one. You’ll get through this,” I urged softly.He sat on the single red couch, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at his half‑drunk coffee as if the answers might be hiding at the bottom of the cup.“Everyone has a choice,” I continued. “Sometimes they choose right. Sometimes…” I hesitated. “…they choose something that causes pain. I’m s
I listened to the soft, repetitive tap of my pen against the desk as I zoned out at work. My mind kept drifting back to Jack, and the phone calls he’d been taking nonstop over the past few days.I didn’t know what they were about.But I did know the name of his most frequent caller.Peter Oligarch.A friend of his.I hadn’t asked. And Jack hadn’t offered. I was patiently but stubbornly waiting for him to open up to me on his own. But five whole days had passed, and he still hadn’t mentioned anything beyond work and… well, doing me.“Loraine, brief me with my schedule today, please?”Arthur’s voice from the intercom pulled me out from losing myself in space.If I’d been buried in my own head, Arthur had been acting strange since yesterday morning.He’d arrived at the office before I did and hadn’t spoken to me once until now.Maybe I was overthinking it. Or maybe my gut was right—he was avoiding me. Why? I had no idea what his reasons were.Arthur had told me himself that everything in
Our dinner went cold—but like Jack said, it could wait. He couldn’t.By the time we reached dessert, ice cream in hand, it looked like I was the one melting, not what I was eating.I lifted my gaze and found him sitting at the far corner of the long sofa, watching me. He took a slow spoonful of vanilla into his mouth, that same mouth that had devoured me earlier while his eyes never left mine.“If you keep staring at me like that,” I said casually, licking my spoon while holding his gaze, “I’ll melt faster than my ice cream.”His eyes narrowed, tempted and hallenged.I knew I shouldn’t start anything. The aftermath of how good he’d been to me was still evident. My legs hadn’t stopped trembling, not completely.Jack knew exactly how to please me. He never left me unsatisfied. He made me feel used—but in the way I wanted to be.He took control.y man in charge. He led me on. He gave it all to me. And my body remembered every second of it.Still…“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, his vo







