Seducing my Ex's StepFather

Chapter 1Isla's povThey say revenge is a poison you drink yourself, hoping the other dies. I suppose that’s true, except I never planned to die.I planned to burn.The ballroom glittered as a lie told too often. Gilded mirrors reflected perfect smiles, the chandeliers overhead weeping crystal tears, and everyone pretending not to notice how brittle the glamour had become. Arkenwald’s elite paraded their status like medals of honor, but beneath the silk and champagne, they were wolves clawing for favor.And in the center of it all was Devon Crest. My ex-lover and my ghost.His smile still held that charming tilt, the one that once made my stomach flutter. Now it made me want to shatter the glass around the ballroom. He looked effortlessly handsome, dressed in all dark velvet and smooth skin while his hand rested like a brand on the waist of his fiancée, Vanessa Marrow, daughter of the Minister of Trade and fresh out of some finishing academy where girls were taught to smile just enou

CHAPTER 3Alaric's povShe stood under the awning like a wounded bird…soaked to the skin, shivering, and still too proud to bend. I watched her for a moment before speaking, more curious than concerned. There was something magnetic about Isla Virelle, even when she was clearly miserable.No, especially when she was miserable.“Stubbornness becomes you, Miss Virelle,” I said, stepping out of the shadows.She startled…she actually flinched. I hadn’t meant to startled her, but it was amusing. Few people ever heard me coming. Fewer still dared call me out for it.“You really need to stop sneaking up on people,” she snapped, defensive.“If I wanted to sneak,” I murmured, “you wouldn’t hear me at all.”She glared at me, and I could see the calculation behind her eyes, the bristle of her independence clashing with her reality. All wet, cold and alone. No way out but through me.She refused me, of course. At first, three times, in fact. Some part of her needed to perform her refusal to protec

CHAPTER 5The mansion didn’t sleep. Instead, it sighed and groaned and shifted like something that was alive.By the time dawn broke, the rain had lessened to a thin drizzle tapping rhythmically on the windows. I hadn’t slept much. Too many memories clung to the walls like ivy, too many thoughts were pacing behind my eyes.I rose quietly, slipping from the bed, and wrapping the robe tighter around me.I told myself I was just going to find water.But I didn’t head straight for the kitchen.My feet knew the halls. Devon used to tease me about it—how quickly I memorized the layout of his childhood home. But he never understood why. I always learned about places like battlegrounds. You memorize exits. Observe the shadows. Sense when walls listen.I padded through the corridors, careful not to wake anyone, though I doubted I’d be the loudest thing in a house this size. The hallways were dim, while the sconces reflected soft, golden light. I passed the portrait gallery and then the hall o