MasukALISTAIR'S POV:I look at the invitation again. My mother's handwriting. Her careful loops and elegant curves. She has no idea what she is asking me to do. She has no idea that coming home is the most terrifying thing I can imagine."Just get through it," I tell myself. "One weekend. Then you can leave again."I arrange for a private jet. The best of everything, I have the money and also the resources. I can afford to fly in style.But none of it matters. None of it will make this easier.I do not sleep that night. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. I think about Elara. About the way she looked at me when I left. About the way she must have felt when I never came back. About the way she probably hates me now.I think about what I will say to her when I see her. What I will do when I am standing in front of her after seven years. How I will control myself.I think about her lips. Her eyes. Her skin. The way she smells. The way she sounds when she laughs.I want her.
ALISTAIR'S POV:Her name echoes in my head like a curse, like an obsession, like a wound that will never heal. Elara. My stepsister. The woman I have been obsessed with since I was fifteen years old. The woman I ran away from. The woman I have spent every single day trying to forget.I have not forgotten. I will never forget. She is burned into my soul, etched into my bones, woven into the fabric of who I am.I think about the day I left. The day I ran away from my feelings. The day I looked into her eyes and knew that I had to leave before I did something unforgivable.I was eighteen years old. She was twenty one. I had just won a scholarship that would take me away for years. A full ride to MIT. The opportunity of a lifetime. I grabbed it like a lifeline, like a rope thrown to a drowning man. I told myself it was for my career. I told myself it was for my future. I told myself that I was doing the right thing.But deep down, I knew the truth. I was running from her.I was running fr
BOOK TWO: HIS FORBIDDEN OBSESSIONA Dark Forbidden Stepbrother RomanceAlistair Ashcroft is the quiet genius who built an empire and always shows up for his family, except Elara, his stepsister. The one woman he's been secretly obsessed with for over a decade. The one he ran away from because he couldn't trust himself around her.Now he's home for his parents' anniversary, and the second he sees her again, nothing else matters.She's more beautiful than ever… and she still has no idea he's been dreaming about her for years.What he doesn't know is that she's been harboring her own secret crush on him just as long.Loving Elara is forbidden. Wrong. Dangerous.But when they're alone, Alistair pins her against the wall and growls against her ear, "You have no fucking idea how many nights I've stroked my cock thinking about burying myself deep inside you."Elara's soft, needy moan is all it takes.Years of running, hiding, and pretending are over.Some desires refuse to stay buried.And s
ELARA'S POV:My phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me out of a restless sleep.I reach for it blindly, my fingers fumbling across the wooden surface. The screen is bright in the darkness of my room, and I squint against the glare. It is an email notification. From the competition organizers which made my heart stops.I sit up in bed. My hands are trembling. My mouth is dry. I have been waiting for this moment for weeks, hoping and praying and trying not to get my hopes up. But now that it is here, I am terrified.What if I did not win? What if my designs were not good enough? What if Clara's lies have poisoned everything?I take a breath and I open the email.Dear Ms. Ashcroft,We are pleased to inform you that you have been awarded first place in the Fashion Design Competition. Your collection was praised for its originality, its emotional depth, and its exceptional craftsmanship. We are honored to have you as part of our community of designers.Congratulations. We look forward
ALISTAIR'S POV:I start working on Elara's case the night she comes to me.I do not sleep nor do I eat until I have found the truth. Elara's entire future is on the line, and if I fail, she loses everything. I will not let that happen.My room is dark except for the glow of my monitors. The screens are covered in lines of code, financial records, and communication logs. I have been digging through the digital footprints of the rival designer, looking for any trace of wrongdoing. I have been searching for hours, and I am starting to feel the exhaustion setting in.I rub my eyes and lean back in my chair. My neck is stiff, my back aches and my fingers are cramping from typing. But I cannot stop not until I find something.The rival designer's name is Clara Vance. She is a moderately successful designer who has been in the industry for a few years. Her work is decent, but not exceptional. She has never had a breakthrough. She has never been praised like Elara.I look at her digital footp
ELARA'S POV: They have witnesses who claim that I had access to their studio. They have a timeline that makes it seem like I stole their work. I know it is a lie. I know someone is trying to destroy me. But I do not know who. Or why. I spend hours in my room, going through my old sketches, trying to find anything that proves my innocence. I have hundreds of drawings, dating back years, showing the evolution of my designs. But the rival designer has similar drawings, similar timelines, similar everything. It is like they have been watching me. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I feel like I am drowning. Like I am being sucked into a whirlpool and I cannot find the surface. * My mother finds me in my room one night. I am sitting on the floor, surrounded by sketches, my face wet with tears. "Elara," she says. "You need to eat." "I am not hungry." "You also need to sleep." "I cannot sleep." She sits down on the floor beside me. She takes my hand. "Tell me what you ar
The forgotten anniversaries. There had been three of those. Three times she had dressed up nice and made dinner and waited and waited and waited until finally getting a text that said "working late sorry" with no exclamation points, no emojis, no nothing.The cruel comments. Those were worse."You
Celestine Valancourt stood in the bathroom of her penthouse apartment, her bare feet cold against the imported marble floor, staring at a little plastic stick that had just completely and utterly rearranged her entire universe. There were two little pink lines staring back at her. Two little lines
KIER'S POV:I pour myself a drink and I sit in the dark and I wait for her to come back.She always comes back.But she does not come back.A week passes. Then another. The penthouse stays empty. My calls go straight to voicemail. My texts go unanswered. I send messages through her email, through s
She watched from the window as her father walked out to greet him.August Valancourt shook Lysander's hand with both of his, the way he did with people he truly respected, and he said something that made Lysander nod solemnly. Then her mother appeared, and Isabelle kissed Lysander on both cheeks, t







