FAZER LOGINFive years after a desperate one-night stand with a masked stranger, an impoverished mother becomes the live-in housekeeper for a ruthless CEO—unaware he is the father of her triplets, or that he has spent years hunting for her.
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"You look pale, Sienna. You really shouldn't ruin your own engagement banquet by looking like a corpse." My half sister, Amber, flashed me a bright, sharp smile as she moved toward me across the red draped VIP lounge of the Grand Regency Hotel. In her designer dress, she looked like the picture of high society perfection. I, on the other hand, was suffocating inside a cheap lace gown, my feet aching after three hours of playing the dutiful fiancée to a man who hadn't looked at me once all night. "I just have a headache," I murmured, rubbing my temples. "The noise, the press... it's a lot." "Then drink this," Amber said softly, pressing a crystal glass of sparkling pink champagne into my hand. Her dark eyes glittered under the chandelier with something I was too tired to read. "It's a good vintage. One glass, and I promise your headache will disappear completely. Go take a break, go up to suite 801. I arranged for you to rest there until the toast." I looked at the bubbling glass, then up at my sister. We had never been close, not since my father brought me into the Mercer household as his illegitimate daughter, but tonight her gesture felt like an olive branch. "Thank you, Amber," I whispered. I took two long swallows. The champagne turned strangely bitter at the end, leaving an odd, metallic burn at the back of my throat, but I forced it down and slipped out through the side doors before anyone noticed I was gone. Ten minutes later, in the quiet, dim hallway of the eighth floor, the world began to tilt. What is happening to me? My knees got weak against the soft carpet. The warmth in the hallway suddenly felt like a furnace. A strange, unnatural heat surged through my veins, making my skin burn and my heart race out of control. My vision blurred into shadow. This wasn't a headache. This wasn't exhaustion... what could it be?... Could it be....No my sister can't do that to me! Fear gripped my chest. I stumbled forward, using the wall to keep myself upright. I needed to get into suite 801, lock the door, and call for help. My shaking hands fumbled with the keycard Amber had given me, dragging it across the reader of the nearest door. Beep. The wooden door unlocked. I threw my weight against it, stumbled into the pitch black room, and closed the door shut behind me. "Amber... help..." I choked out, collapsing onto my hands and knees on the cold hardwood floor. "Who the hell are you?" The voice came out of the darkness, a deep, dangerous voice that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. It was rough, ragged, and edged with something close to panic. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Through the blur of my failing vision, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. The suite was huge, lit only by flashes of lightning from the storm raging outside the tall windows. Standing near the edge of the king sized bed was a tall, powerful man. He had taken off his suit jacket, his white dress shirt half open, showing a broad chest that rose and fell with hard, shallow breaths. But it wasn't his size that made my blood run cold. The upper half of his face was hidden behind a polished silver Venetian mask. "I asked you a question," the masked man said, his voice tight. He took a heavy, unsteady step forward, his shoulders shaking. He gripped a crystal glass so hard I thought it might shatter in his hand. "How did you get in here? Who sent you?" "I... I have the key," I stammered, tears sliding down my cheeks as the burning heat inside me spiked higher, taking whatever strength I had left. "My sister... suite 801..." "This is suite 802," he said, his voice dropping low and rough. He tossed his glass onto the carpet, and it rolled away quietly. "Get out." "I can't move," I sobbed, my arms giving out completely. I slid onto the rug, gasping for air as the fever burned through my thoughts. "Please... my body... it hurts..." The man didn't move for three long seconds. Then, slowly, he bent down beside me. The moment his skin touched mine, his large, rough hand reaching out to grip my shoulder, a jolt of pure electricity shot through us both. He went rigid. A low, ragged sound left his chest. "You've been drugged," he whispered, his voice shaking with a sudden, terrible realization. He pulled his hand back like he'd been burned, but his breathing only grew more uneven. "Damn it... they drugged us both." Through the eye slots of the silver mask, his eyes caught the moonlight. Golden hazel. A rare, striking color that seemed to burn straight through the dark. "Listen to me," he said, leaning down, his intense gaze locked on mine. The scent of rain, cedar, and heat rolled off him in waves. "I'm holding onto my control by a thread. If you don't get up and walk out that door right now... I won't be able to stop." "I can't," I wept, my hand moving on pure, feverish instinct, reaching up to grab the front of his shirt. "Please... help me..." That one touch broke whatever control he had left. With a low, rough sound, he pulled me up into his arms. His warmth crashed into me as he lifted me easily onto the bed. His hands framed my face with a fierce, possessive grip, his thumb tracing my lower lip before his mouth found mine in a kiss so deep and so intense it stole the air from my lungs. It wasn't gentle. It was a storm of drugged desperation and raw, uncontrolled heat. In the dark, under the roar of thunder outside, two strangers bound by poison gave in completely to the night. No names were spoken. No real faces were shown. When I woke up at 4:00 AM, the storm had finally passed. The suite was dead silent. The man was still deeply asleep beside me, one heavy, muscular arm wrapped possessively around my waist. On the nightstand beside him lay the silver mask, face down. Tears of shame and fear blurred my eyes. I carefully lifted his arm off me, climbed out of the bed, and gathered my torn dress from the floor. I didn't dare turn to look at his unmasked face. If Amber had set this whole thing up to ruin me, I couldn't risk knowing who this powerful, dangerous man was. I pulled on my clothes, wiped my eyes, and slipped out into the freezing rain before the sun could rise. I thought I had escaped the nightmare. I thought I would carry the secret of that night to my grave. Oh how wrong am I.Damon's Point Of View The grand ballroom of the estate was cleared in less than ten minutes. I stood on the stone terrace, my hands gripped so hard against the railing that my knuckles turned completely white. Down on the lawn, the bright party lights were shut off one by one. Rich guests hurried toward their expensive cars in total shock, whispering among themselves about the sudden attack. My shirt was still unbuttoned at the throat where I had ripped off my black bow tie. The smell of gun smoke and damp earth still hung heavy in the night air. "Damon," Carter said, stepping out onto the dark terrace with a heavy tablet computer in his hand. His face was grim, carved from hard lines and deep worry. "The perimeter sweep is done. The intruder climbed over the west wall and disappeared into the state forest before our backup could cut him off. He left nothing behind except a broken branch and footprints in the mud." "That is not enough," I growled, my voice low and dangerous, vibra
Sienna’s Point Of View I ran down the hallway of the nursery wing, my heart hammering like a drum in my chest. Every shadow on the wall looked like a security guard waiting to catch me, but the hall was empty. Most of the house staff had been sent outside to help serve drinks at the big gala. I opened the nursery door quietly and stepped inside. Dr. Vance stood near the small wooden table, packing her medical bag, while two guards stood near the tall glass window overlooking the yard. Little Mia was asleep in her small white crib, while Leo and Toby sat on the soft rug, quietly stacking colored wooden blocks. "Dr. Vance," I said, forcing my voice to sound soft and natural. "Damon asked me to come up and take the children to his private office on the main floor. He wants them away from all the loud noise outside before he gives his speech." Dr. Vance smiled warmly and closed her bag. "Of course, Sienna. The boys have been very good tonight." The two guards nodded, opening the nurs
Sienna’s Point Of View The evening of the Sterling Charity Gala came with huge crowds, bright lights, and loud music. The whole estate ground was completely transformed. Big glass lights hung from high white tents in the yard, soft music played near the water fountain, and hundreds of rich guests in black suits and fancy dresses walked across the grass. Upstairs in the big master bedroom, I stood in front of the tall mirror on the wall. My breath felt short and tight in my chest. I wore a long green dress that reached all the way to the floor. It was a gift from Damon. It fit tight around my waist and fell smoothly down my legs. Bright diamonds sparkled around my neck, but to me, they felt like nothing more than a cold metal chain. The door opened, and Damon walked into the room. He looked big and very handsome in his sharp black tuxedo. His dark hair was brushed back neatly. But his dark eyes had that same cold, hard look they always carried. He walked right up behind me, stepping
Sienna’s Point Of View I ran into the master bathroom, locked the door behind me, and turned on the sink faucet all the way. Water rushed loudly down the drain, making enough noise to cover any small sound I made. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely pull the folded document out of my cardigan pocket. I set the paper down on the cold white counter and smoothed out the hard folds with my palm. It was an official bank receipt from Sterling Global Capital. The date at the top stood out in big black numbers: October 14, five years ago. That was the exact night my whole life was ruined in Suite 802. My eyes moved quickly down the page. Five million dollars had been moved out of Damon’s private account and sent to an offshore bank. At the bottom of the page was Damon’s sharp signature in dark ink, right beside his official red wax seal. Five million dollars paid out only hours after that awful night. My head throbbed. I pulled out my phone, took three clear photos of the bank


















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