All Chapters of Tempting Uncle Alaric: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

ELARA POV The guest room was as cold as the man who owned it. I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, my fingers tracing the hem of the silk robe I had found in the marble bathroom. Everything in Alaric Vance’s penthouse was shades of slate, charcoal, and glass. It felt more like a gallery than a home, and certainly not a place for someone who had just lost everything. My damp funeral clothes were folded neatly on a chair, a stark reminder of the mud and the graveside I had left just hours ago. I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. 3:14 AM. The silence of the penthouse was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the city seventy floors below. I was exhausted, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw the mahogany caskets and the cold, unyielding expression on Alaric’s face. Restless, I stood up and padded softly toward the kitchen. I needed water. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. I didn't turn on the lights. The moonlight streaming through the floor-to

ELARA POV The silence between us after the blowout in his office was thick, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was the kind of silence that felt like a held breath. Alaric didn’t apologize for his coldness, and I didn’t apologize for my outburst. Instead, he simply left a garment bag hanging on my door the following afternoon with a note: Be ready by seven. The dress was emerald silk, floor-length, and probably cost more than my entire first-year tuition. As I stood in front of the full-length mirror, I felt like a fraud. I looked like a Thorne—polished, wealthy, and untouchable. But underneath the silk, I was just a girl living out of cardboard boxes in a stranger’s penthouse. When I stepped into the living room, Alaric was already waiting. He was dressed in a black tuxedo that fit him with agonizing precision. He was checking his watch, but he stopped when he saw me. His gaze travelled from the hem of my dress up to my face, lingering for a second on my lips before his expression smoot

ELARA POV The morning light in the penthouse was unforgiving. It hit the white marble floors and the glass walls with a brightness that made my head ache. I had spent most of the night staring at the door, half-expecting Alaric to walk in and apologize, or at least explain why he had almost kissed me before throwing my status back in my face. Neither happened. I walked into the kitchen, my footsteps sounding too loud in the quiet apartment. Alaric was already there. He was sitting at the breakfast bar, a tablet in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. He was already fully dressed—charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, tie perfectly knotted. He looked like the gala and the elevator ride hadn't happened at all. "There’s breakfast in the warmer," he said, not looking up from his screen. "And your schedule for the month is on the counter." I walked past the food and picked up the printed sheet. It was a rigorous block of time. Classes, library hours, gym sessions, and a strictl

ELARA POV Saturday morning arrived with a silence that felt like a physical weight. I stood in the kitchen, staring at the notification on my phone. The SAT prep course was scheduled for 9:00 AM. It was a clear, calculated move to keep my weekends occupied and my world small. Alaric was already at the breakfast bar, his shirt sleeves rolled up, looking through a stack of legal documents. He didn't look like he had slept much, but he still held that annoying air of being completely in control. "The car is waiting downstairs," he said, not lifting his gaze from the papers. "You have five minutes." "I’m not going," I said. I set my phone down on the marble counter with a sharp clink. Alaric paused, his pen hovering over a signature line. He slowly looked up, his eyes cool and level. "We discussed this last night, Elara." "You talked at me last night. That isn't a discussion. I’m already halfway through my junior year. I don't need a prep course to tell me how to take a test I’ve al

ELARA POVThe drive back from the estate was different. The silence wasn’t a battle anymore; it was heavy with the finality of what had just happened. I held the tin box of letters in my lap like it was made of glass. Alaric drove with his eyes fixed on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tight enough to make his knuckles white. When we entered the penthouse, the air-conditioned chill felt sharper than usual. Alaric went straight to the bar and poured himself a drink, the clinking of ice the only sound in the room. "I have a dinner meeting in an hour," he said, his back to me. "There’s a list of tutors for your economics course on the tablet. Pick one by tomorrow." I set the tin box on the coffee table. "I don't want a tutor, Alaric. I want to talk about what you said at the house." He took a long sip of his drink before turning around. "I said I didn't want you to watch it rot. It’s a practical stance, Elara. There’s nothing more to discuss." "You said you did it for me," I