Marrying My Ex's Ruthless Billionaire Uncle

you want to kiss me? Do

hangover. She remembered blinking up at the man in the dim, amber light of

ough the edge of his right eyebrow that gave him a dangerous, untamed edge. "I'm Alastair's unc

d abruptly dumped her via text the very momen

predator of Manhattan's elite, the

ive. "If I can't be his wife, becoming his aunt to piss him off soun

th a savage intensity that erased every coherent thought in her brain. They fit together perfectly, a collision of heat and desperation.

pes. She was in his bed. The thousand-thread-count Egyptian silk was tangled around her bare legs, carr

lpted ridges of his broad back and the tight muscles along his spine. He walked toward a floating mahogany console, picking up

rows. But instead of the cold, flawless statue she expected, he looked rugged,

she started, trying to mask her vulnerability with a forced, sassy smirk. "Abo

as he pulled on a crisp

hing but a drunken mistake. A one-off. He buttoned his cuffs, trea

f humiliation in her throat, forcing a bree

out," he said, grabbing his tailored charcoal jacket a

crumpled navy cocktail dress, the delicate satin ruined and creased. She sl

rough the bag, pulling out her cracked phone. The screen fla

nswered, her s

e for her cardiac care is fifty-two thousand dollars. If the account is not settled in full by

ears burning hot behind her eyelid

iss Knight." The

e hailed a yellow cab and headed straight to the Upper East Side, to the Hayes

y let her in. Alastair came out to the marble foyer, looking effortless

my mother's hospital bill. I know we're o

"Ema... let me see what I can

awing room, she froze. Sitting on the velvet settee with Ala

He didn't say a word, just took a slow drag from his cigar