Cole's POV.I had always been a man who got what he wanted. Connections, wealth, influence…I had them all. But none of that mattered now if I couldn’t find Emily.The moment she walked out on me, my entire world had gone to hell. The media had gotten wind of the story. My father had called, yelling through the phone, making it clear that if Emily wasn’t back as my wife within 24 hours, Greyson Corps would be handed over to my cousin.I wasn’t about to let that happen.I had spent the entire day making calls, pulling every string I could. The best private investigators, cybersecurity experts, and even a few underground contacts…I spared no expense. I needed to find her before it was too late.By evening, I got a lead.She had checked into one of the most expensive hotels in the city. The irony wasn’t lost on me. She wasn’t hiding. She wasn’t running. She was waiting.For what?To watch me crumble? To see how far I would go?Whatever it was, I didn’t care.By 9 PM, I was standing outsid
Emily's POV.I stood by the window, arms crossed, my back to Cole. The city stretched out in front of me, lights blinking, cars moving, the world going on like nothing was wrong. Inside this room, though, the air was thick, suffocating. Cole stood behind me, his presence pressing against my back like a weight I refused to acknowledge. He had forced his way in, tracked me down like a desperate man clinging to something already gone.I didn’t turn around. I didn’t give him the satisfaction."Say whatever you want, Cole. It won’t change a damn thing," I said, reaching for the whiskey bottle on the counter. I poured myself a drink, the liquid steadying me.But Cole wasn’t leaving. His father’s threats must have been ringing in his ears. The humiliation, the headlines, the fear of losing everything…it was crashing down on him. His silence stretched long enough that I knew he was struggling to keep it together."Do you really hate me that much?" His voice was low, rough, like he was barely
Emily’s POV.I stood there, arms crossed, watching him like he was some kind of pest that refused to leave. Cole, sitting on my couch like he belonged here. Like he had any right to breathe the same air as me after everything he did.He was crazy if he thought I’d just let this slide.I took a step forward, ready to grab his arm and drag him out myself, but a knock on the door stopped me. My head snapped toward it.Room service? I hadn’t ordered anything.Cole, the smug bastard, didn’t even react. He just sat there, rubbing his temple like I was giving him a headache.I marched to the door, yanked it open, and found a hotel staff member standing there with a tray. A covered dish, a drink on the side."Miss Hart, your assistant sent this up for you."My brows pulled together. "My assistant?""Yes, ma’am. He said you haven’t eaten all day and that you needed something light."I sighed. Sam. Of course, he did. The man was loyal, but he was also annoying as hell when it came to hovering o
Emily’s POVI sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone, fingers tapping against my knee. The city lights spilled through the window, reflecting off the screen. The message I was about to send felt like a betrayal…to myself, to everything I’d fought for. But it was also a move, a necessary one.I exhaled sharply, then typed:‘Dad, I’m back with Cole. We’re fixing things.’A beat passed. Then another.My phone vibrated.‘Good. I knew you’d come to your senses.’I scoffed, rolling my eyes. My father had never hidden his opinions…he believed in power, in keeping our companies aligned, in making sure the Greyson and Hart names remained untouchable. Love? That was never part of the deal.‘Whatever. Just stay out of my life.’ I sent back.For the first time in years, he didn’t argue.Cole was standing near the window, hands in his pockets, watching me. “What did he say?”“That he knew I’d come to my senses.” I tossed the phone on the nightstand, my jaw tight. “He’s backing off now.”C
Cole’s POV.I adjusted my cufflinks as I stepped out of the car, the black vehicle reflecting the towering glass structure of the Hart Enterprise building. Today was another meeting, another performance. Emily and I had perfected the act by now. The loving glances, the effortless laughter, the way my hand fit around hers like it belonged there. All for show. All because in eleven months, we’d be free.The lobby was filled with executives and assistants rushing around, murmuring about numbers and deals. I walked in, ignoring the way heads turned in my direction. Power demanded attention, and I had no problem owning it.James, my assistant, fell into step beside me. “Everything’s set. The board is waiting upstairs.”“Emily?” I asked, my voice level.“Already there.”Of course, she was. Punctual, controlled, ahead of the game. That was Emily Hart.I stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut as it carried me up to the top floor. My fingers twitched at my side, a habit I hadn’t bee
Cole's POV.Vanessa and I stepped out of the restaurant, her voice trailing as she talked about something I wasn’t even paying attention to. My mind was still stuck on the conversation we had inside, the way she had looked at me like she knew something I didn’t.Then, I saw her.Emily.She was a few feet away near the valet pickup, dressed in a fitted black jumpsuit that hugged her frame perfectly. A pair of strappy heels added to her height, and her long hair fell over her shoulders effortlessly. She looked… different. Not like the Emily I was used to. There was no sharpness in her expression, no guarded stance.She was happy.And it wasn’t because of me.She let out a laugh…a real one, as she jumped into the arms of a man I didn’t recognize. He caught her easily, arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground.Something hit me hard in my chest.Vanessa was still talking beside me, her voice laced with amusement. “Are you even listening to me, Cole?”I wasn’t.Be
Cole's POV.I stood outside, hands braced against the edge of the car, breathing hard. The night air did nothing to cool my temper.Lucas. That smug bastard. He was enjoying this.I ran a hand over my face, willing myself to let it go. It wasn’t working.Footsteps approached. I didn’t have to turn to know who it was."Man, you really let things get to you, huh?" Lucas strolled up beside me, slipping his hands into his pockets like we were old friends.I exhaled sharply. "Go away.""Why?" He smirked. "Emily’s in there, not going anywhere. Not yet, anyway."I clenched my jaw.Lucas leaned against the car, shaking his head. "You don’t like me, do you?""You’re annoying as hell," I muttered.He laughed. "Fair. But you know what’s funny? If Emily wasn’t my cousin, I probably would’ve married her."My head snapped toward him."Think about it," he continued. "She’s smart. Beautiful. Strong. A hell of a lot better than most women. Including the one you came here with."My fists tightened.Luc
Emily's POV.My brain short-circuited.Cole Grayson was kissing me.His lips were firm, demanding, pressing against mine like he had every right to take what he wanted. Like this wasn’t insane. Like I wasn’t Emily Hart…the same girl he had humiliated and torn apart seven years ago. The same girl he had looked at like trash beneath his feet.And yet, here he was. Kissing me.For a split second…just a damn second…my body betrayed me. My breath caught, my fingers curled into fists at my sides, and the warmth of his mouth sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. The night air was cool against my skin, but his touch was fire. My heart slammed against my ribs, confused, angry, dazed.Then, reality crashed over me like a sledgehammer.What the hell was I doing?I shoved him. Hard.Cole stumbled back a step, eyes flicking open in surprise. My palm stung from where it had pressed against his chest, but I didn’t care. My breath was uneven, my pulse out of control, and my entire body screamed w
Stevie-lou's POV.He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear again, like he always did when we were out together. A signature move. A gentle caress that screamed affection to anyone watching. And I smiled up at him, letting my eyes soften just the way he liked. My lashes lowered, lips parting slightly, the faintest curve playing at the corners of my mouth. I’d perfected it.I hated the way my skin tingled under his touch...not because I wanted him, hell no...but because I was so damn good at pretending, I could fool even my own body. It betrayed me every time, responding to his closeness like a lover’s would. It made my stomach turn."You look beautiful tonight, Petunia," Smith said, his voice low and deliberate, fingers brushing the small of my back like he owned me."You always say that," I teased, brushing my fingers lightly along his wrist, my nails just grazing his skin."Because it’s always true."His eyes held mine a second too long, just enough to tell me what was coming. His ga
Smith’s POV.It had been days.And I couldn’t get her out of my damn head.Petunia Monroe.That name had stuck in my brain like a thorn I couldn’t pull out. Everywhere I turned, she was there. Not physically. But in my head. In meetings. In the boardroom while numbers were being thrown around, projections, investments, power plays…I saw her face. The way she tilted her head. The way her eyes held mine when we spoke.I had tried to fuck her out of my system. Tried it with a blonde influencer who kept giggling every time I so much as looked her way. Then with a brunette who knew how to moan on cue and say all the right things. Nothing. It all felt like cardboard. Cold. Pointless.She was still there. Her black feathered leotard, the way it hugged her body like it was made for her. That ballet performance wasn’t just art…it was a goddamn message. I didn’t know what it said, but I felt it like a slap to the chest.And I couldn’t stop playing it in my head.During dinner, seated alone at m
Stevie-lou’s POV.My heart was still racing as I wiped the sweat off my forehead. That performance had eaten me raw. Every muscle in my body was still vibrating. The black feathered leotard I wore...designed with precision and attitude...hugged my skin like a second layer, still warm from the heat of the spotlight. I felt it in my bones. The music. The rhythm. The eyes. Especially his.I had seen the way Smith Hart looked at me.He was far back in the dark hall but there was no missing the way he leaned forward during the dance. The others might’ve been sipping their drinks, whispering among themselves or pretending to care, but not him. Smith Hart had been watching like I was the only thing moving in that whole damn room. His stare cut through the air, bold and direct, as if he had seen something in me nobody else had. It shook me a little. Not because I cared. But because I knew exactly who he was...and I despised everything he stood for.The man was ruthless. Sharp-suited, sharp-to
Smith’s POVThe Hart Enterprise 50th Anniversary Gala was perfect.Every inch of the ballroom screamed success. The walls, lined with art and gold accents, reflected the soft shimmer of crystal chandeliers. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and fresh flowers, the latter arranged in massive, white-topped vases at every corner. I surveyed it all…took it in from the balcony before stepping down to join the crowd below.It was a night that I had meticulously planned. Years of hard work, of seeing opportunities and risks like no one else, and now, it all led here. Every seat in the room was occupied. Every person invited was a mover, a shaker, an influencer. The type of people who understood what it meant to be at the top.I adjusted the cuffs of my black tuxedo…custom-made, obviously. Not a thread out of place. My watch gleamed under the soft lighting as I looked out at the sea of faces below. The night was unfolding as I had imagined. Every detail was perfect. Every piece in p
Stevie-Lou’s POVThree days.It had been three days since we lowered my father into the ground.Three days since I stood beside his casket, dressed in black, staring down at the man who raised me…silent and still beneath a polished wooden lid. Three days of hearing strangers murmur things like “He was a good man” and “So sorry for your loss,” as if their condolences could glue together the splintered mess inside my chest.They couldn’t. Nothing could.The grief was a living thing. It clung to me like a second skin, heavy and suffocating, curling around my lungs every time I tried to breathe. I sat curled up on the sagging couch in my apartment, wrapped in my father’s old flannel shirt, my knees tucked under me like a scared little girl. A single candle burned on the coffee table. Sandalwood…his favorite scent. The flame danced, throwing shadows against the walls, soft and flickering. It was the only light I could stand. The overhead bulbs were too harsh, too alive.Jeremy, my boyfrien
Smith's POV.I leaned back in my chair slowly, the leather squeaking. I didn’t speak. Just stared at James.His hands were twitchy. Fidgety. Like he didn’t know what to do with them."Is that all?" I finally asked.He blinked. Like he expected me to say something else. Anything else."Yes, sir. I just thought... you should know."I scoffed. "Why?"He flinched. "Well, he worked here since before you were born.""Exactly," I said, cutting him off. "Which means he had years to prepare. Retirement fund. Family. Friends. A damn GoFundMe if he wanted."James didn’t speak."You think it was my job to save him?" I asked, eyes narrowing.He shook his head quickly. "No, sir. Of course not.""Good. Because it wasn’t. This isn’t a charity."The silence in the room tightened. James looked at the floor."He was desperate," he mumbled.I stood up slowly. Walked around the desk until I was a few steps from him."Let me ask you something, James. If I give 1.3 million to a dying man with a bad heart, h
Smith POV.I was 27. Young. Cold. Successful. Ruthless.CEO of the Hart Enterprise.People feared me. And that was fine. Fear keeps people in check. I didn’t have time for emotions or second chances. Not in this world. Not in business. One mistake could bring it all crashing down.I sat behind my office desk…black, clean…just like everything else in my life. The skyline of New York stood outside my glass window. Everyone out there had a dream. I was already living mine. But it didn’t come easy.I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I wasn’t meant to exist.My father, Richard Hart, never wanted me. He wasn’t married when he met my mother, Lena. His first wife…Emily’s mother…had already left him. Walked away. No cheating involved. That chapter had ended.Eight years later, he met my mother. It was just a one-night stand. Nothing more. A stupid decision. When she found out she was pregnant and told him, he turned into a monster.He tortured her. Pressured her. Told her to get rid of me.But
Married To The Billionaire I Hate Part 2Synopsis:Stevie-Lou Parker’s world shattered the day her father, a loyal employee of Smith Hart, died after being denied a loan for his treatment. Smith Hart, the ruthless billionaire, refused to help, and her father paid the price. Consumed with rage, Stevie-Lou swore revenge on the man who caused her family’s downfall.To get close to him, Stevie-Lou went undercover, hiding her true identity. She lied about her name and used a disguise so Smith would never suspect she was the daughter of the man whose death he had caused. Using her beauty and talent as a skilled dancer, Stevie-Lou captivated Smith with a performance that left him wanting more. He fell in love, believing she was just another woman to add to his collection.But for Stevie-Lou, this was never about love…it was about revenge. She married him, planning to strip him of everything he held dear: his wealth, his power, his empire. What Smith didn’t know was that Stevie-Lou wasn’t alo
Emily's POV.Six years later.I couldn't believe how much everything had changedm..and how much I had changed. I used to be a woman who could take on anything with a smile, fighting tooth and nail for what I wanted, getting my way, keeping my guard up. Now, I was a wife, a mother to two wild kids who were way too much like me for comfort, and I was somehow still trying to find the balance. Cole and I had two little monsters. I meant that in the most loving way, of course. A five-year-old girl who thought she knew everything, and a three-year-old boy who was already calm enough to be mistaken for a mini version of his father.I looked over at Mia, our daughter, as she flipped through her book on the couch, muttering to herself. “Mom, you know you can’t just say things like that. The truth is like…” She paused, squinting up at me, “...it’s like a key. It opens doors. And if you don’t have the key, well, you’re locked out. Simple logic. Honestly.”I blinked, my fork halfway to my mouth