/1/110585/coverbig.jpg?v=eee99a3eea1a64864e4f5fbb1418a1a2)
They say you can't have it all. I'm about to prove them wrong-or destroy myself trying. When my struggling mother married billionaire Richard Stone, I thought I was gaining a family. Instead, I found three stepbrothers who became my obsession, my downfall, and my salvation. Dominic, the eldest, cold and commanding, who kisses me like he's claiming his kingdom and looks at me like I'm the only thing he can't control. Julian, the charming playboy who hides a vulnerable soul beneath his perfect smile, making me feel like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen. Asher, the brooding artist who paints me like I'm his muse and touches me like I'm his masterpiece, seeing parts of my soul I didn't know existed. They're forbidden. They're dangerous. They're everything I shouldn't want. But when I discover my father didn't die by suicide that he was murdered by the very man who now calls himself my stepfather, these three powerful men becomes my unlikely allies. First it was a forbidden attraction, now it's an arrangement that defies every rule. The rules are simple: I'll give each of them a chance. I'll take everything they offer. And in the end, I'll have to make the hardest decision of my life: Choose one of them. Choose all of them. Or choose myself.
Contents
Claimed By My Billionaire Stepbrothers Chapter 1 THE COFFEE SHOP ENCOUNTER
The espresso machine hissed like an angry snake, and my hands shook as I twisted the portafilter into place. Three hours of sleep. That's all I'd managed between closing the diner at midnight and opening Lumineux Café at five a.m.
"Grande oat milk latte, extra hot!" I called out, my voice cracking.
The customer-a woman dripping in diamonds at seven in the morning-wrinkled her nose as she took the cup. No tip. Of course.
My feet screamed in my worn sneakers. Two more hours until my break.
"Excuse me."
The voice cut through the café noise like warm honey. Deep. Smooth. Dangerous.
I looked up.
My breath caught.
He sat in the corner booth, perfectly positioned in morning sunlight that made him look like something out of a magazine. Dark hair, artfully disheveled. A jawline that could cut glass. And eyes-God, those eyes-watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
How long had he been there?
"Can I help you?" I asked, proud my voice came out steady.
He smiled. Slow. Devastating. "I hope so."
He stood, and my brain short-circuited. Tall. Broad-shouldered. A suit that probably cost more than my rent.
"I've been watching you," he said, reaching the counter.
"That's creepy," I shot back before I could stop myself.
His laugh was genuine, surprised. "Fair. Let me rephrase. I've been admiring how you handle the morning rush."
"Is that what we're calling it? Because I call it survival."
"Then let me buy you a coffee. When you're off shift. Or dinner. Or both."
My heart hammered. Men like this didn't ask girls like me out.
"I don't even know your name," I said.
"Julian." He extended his hand. "And you're Maya. Your name tag."
His hand was warm, his grip firm. The touch sent electricity up my arm, and from the slight widening of his eyes, he felt it too.
"So, Maya." He leaned against the counter. "Dinner?"
"I have another job after this."
"Tomorrow then?"
"I work doubles most days."
Something flickered in his expression. Concern? Pity? My defenses slammed up.
"Look, I appreciate the offer, but-"
"What time do you get off? Tonight. I'll wait."
"It's one a.m."
"I'm a night owl."
I stared at him. He was serious.
"Why?" The word slipped out.
Julian's expression softened. "Because the moment you looked up and told me I was creepy, I knew I had to know you better."
Despite myself, I smiled. "You're insane."
"Probably." He pulled out his phone. "Your number? I promise I'm not a serial killer. You can Google me. Julian Beaumont."
Beaumont. My fingers froze. That name was familiar. Why was it familiar?
"Grande iced Americano!" someone shouted from the line.
"That's me," Julian said, still holding my gaze. "So? Take a chance, Maya. What's the worst that could happen?"
Everything, my brain screamed. But my traitorous mouth gave him my number.
His fingers brushed mine as he took his coffee, and my stomach flipped.
"Until tonight then." He started to walk away, then turned back. "And Maya? Wear something comfortable. We're not going anywhere fancy."
He left, and I stood frozen.
"Girl, you better give me details."
I jumped. Shanice had materialized beside me, eyes wide.
"Who was that?"
"Some guy named Julian Beaumont."
Shanice's jaw dropped. "Beaumont? As in Beaumont Hotels? As in billionaire Beaumont?"
The world tilted.
No. No, no, no.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
Looking forward to tonight. And Maya? I meant what I said. You're extraordinary. -J
My hands shook. I'd just given my number to a billionaire.
My phone buzzed again.
BTW, your coffee art is incredible. The swan you made for that little girl? Made her whole day. Made mine too, watching you. -J
He'd been watching me that long?
My chest tightened. This was wrong. Men like Julian Beaumont didn't date baristas. They used them, played with them, broke them.
But God, the way he'd looked at me.
"I'll be fine," I said to Shanice, not sure if I was lying.
The door chimed.
I looked up automatically, customer service smile ready.
And froze.
A woman stood in the doorway. Late forties, elegant, with the kind of beauty that came from expensive maintenance. She wore a cream dress that probably cost more than my car.
Our eyes met.
Her expression shifted from neutral to shocked recognition.
"Maya?" she whispered.
The world stopped.
I knew that voice. Knew that face, though it had aged, hardened.
"Mom?"
View More Comments on App
Other books by Triple C
More/1/112946/coverbig.jpg?v=58671b9e01b39c28cab10dd7e3ccb86a)
Veiled Submission
RomanceChapter 1 The blindfold slipped over my eyes, and the world went black just as his deep voice brushed my ear. "Relax, little spy. Let us show you what The Veil really is." My heart slammed against my ribs. The masked party in the Brooklyn warehouse had been loud with moans and music only seconds ago. Now everything narrowed to the heat of three bodies surrounding me in the private room. Strong hands guided me backward until my thighs hit the edge of a leather bench. Fingers-long and confident-traced my collarbone, then dipped lower, brushing the swell of my breasts through the thin black dress. I sucked in a sharp breath as cool ice suddenly pressed against my neck, melting instantly against my flushed skin. A second set of hands slid up my thighs, pushing the hem of my dress higher, exposing lace panties already damp with traitorous arousal. "Who are you?" I whispered, even as my nipples tightened painfully. The man behind me chuckled low, the sound vibrating through my chest. "Tonight, we're the ones asking questions." The ice trailed down between my breasts, leaving a wet path that made me shiver. Then warm lips replaced it, sucking gently on the sensitive skin just above my bra. A soft moan escaped me before I could stop it. My hands were gently pulled behind my back and secured with something soft-silk, maybe. The restraint wasn't tight, but it sent a rush of heat straight to my core. Another hand-rougher, more commanding-cupped my ass and squeezed. "So responsive already," the voice murmured, approval thick in his tone. "Good girl." The praise hit me like a drug. My knees weakened. I hated how much I loved it. The ice moved lower, circling my navel, then lower still until it pressed against the lace covering my clit. I gasped, hips jerking forward involuntarily. The cold burned deliciously against my swollen flesh. Fingers hooked into my panties, pulling them aside. Hot breath ghosted over my exposed pussy right before a warm tongue replaced the ice, licking one slow, torturous stripe from entrance to clit. "Oh fuck-" My head fell back against a hard chest. Strong arms wrapped around me from behind, holding me upright as the tongue between my legs circled faster, sucking lightly. Pleasure coiled tight in my belly. My thighs trembled. I was supposed to be gathering evidence, not melting under their touch. But God, the way they played my body-like they already knew every secret I'd never told anyone-made my mind spin. The man behind me pinched my nipple through my dress, rolling it between his fingers. "Let go, beautiful. We've got you." I came hard, sudden and shocking, a cry tearing from my throat as waves of pleasure crashed through me. My legs gave out completely, but they caught me, holding me between their bodies as I shook. The blindfold stayed on. My breathing was ragged. Then a calm, authoritative voice cut through the haze. "Take it off." The silk was removed. Three devastatingly handsome men stood before me-tall, powerful, radiating raw dominance. The one with icy blue eyes and sharp features stared at me like he could see straight into my soul. The playful one with warm brown eyes and a dangerous smirk licked his lips slowly. The third, broad-shouldered and intense, watched me with barely restrained hunger. The blue-eyed man tilted his head. "Your real name isn't Elena Voss, is it... Nova Kane?" My stomach dropped. They knew. Before I could speak, the door to the private room clicked shut behind us. The blue-eyed man stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "We have a proposal for you, little journalist. One that involves a 90-day contract... and your complete surrender." My pulse thundered in my ears as his fingers brushed my still-sensitive clit, making me jolt. "Or we can ruin your career right now."
/1/112048/coverbig.jpg?v=d7caf8676a37975c85c0d1e678537d78)
His Anonymous Obsession
RomanceI've been hiding my face from the world for seven years. He's been hiding his heart for just as long. When Grammy-winning musician Dante Rivers offers me $150,000 to be his fake girlfriend for six months, I should say no. I'm Veil-the anonymous digital artist with millions of fans and a face no one has ever seen. I don't do cameras. I don't do crowds. And I definitely don't do fake relationships with devastatingly private men whose studio walls are covered in my artwork. But my father's last dream is slipping away-and this contract is the only way to save it. The rules are simple: No real feelings. No crossed boundaries. No falling for Dante Rivers. Except nothing about him is simple. Not the way he shields me from paparazzi like I matter. Not the way his music sounds like secrets meant only for me. Not the way he looks at me like he sees through every wall I've built. What he doesn't know is that I'm already part of his life. I'm the anonymous artist behind his album covers. The one he's trusted with his most private thoughts. The ghost he's been searching for without ever meeting. And now I'm falling for him twice- once as the girl in his guesthouse and once as the mystery he doesn't know he's already holding. When the truth comes out, it won't just break the contract. It might break us.
