Chapter 1

I was not invited to Timothy Jones' birthday party. My messages went unanswered, so I had to scour the guest list and contact mutual friends to find the address.

When I arrived, the private room was buzzing with energy. Timothy was on the leather couch, locked in a passionate embrace with someone else. The woman was lying on his chest, slightly blushed. Looking closer, I realized it was Willow Lambert, my father's illegitimate daughter.

"Should we tell Olivia?"

"Can't you read the room? Tim has clearly moved on."

…

As the few men whispered by the door, I walked in. The lively room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

I smiled and said, "Go on. Why did you stop? Did I interrupt you?"

All eyes turned to me as I continued, "Tim, we've known each other for 20 years, and you didn't even invite me to your birthday party?"

I moved closer, effortlessly popped open a bottle, and poured myself a drink. As I locked eyes with him, I saw a look of irritation flicker across his face.

"Olivia, can't you act like a lady for once?" Timothy snapped.

Before I could retort, Willow whimpered with teary eyes, "Tim, please don't fight because of me. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have…"

She looked so pitiful, like a wounded little bunny begging for sympathy. I could not stand the sight of her and slapped her hard across the face without thinking twice.

"At least you're self-aware. Your mom seduced my dad, and now you're after my boyfriend? Does being a homewrecker run in your family?"

"Olivia, that's enough!" Timothy shoved me away and pulled Willow into a protective embrace. If I had not known better, I would have thought it was a scene from some tragic love story.

Then, Timothy turned to me and stated coldly, "Olivia, since you've seen everything, let's get it over with. We're done. I'm bored of this relationship."

I laughed bitterly. "What's this? I'm not 'womanly' enough for you, but some blushing little kiss is what gets you going? When we were making out in the car last night, you said you wanted to marry me. Why didn't you say you're tired of this relationship then? Tim, you're nothing but a monster!"

Before he could respond, the door opened, and a handsome young guy walked in with more drinks. I seized the opportunity and pulled him toward me, crushing my lips on his. His lips tasted faintly of citrus, and the room fell silent except for the pounding of my heart.

When I finally pulled away, the guy looked stunned. I turned back to Timothy, who was glaring at me. "Perfect timing. I'm tired of you too. We're through, you trash."

As lousy as my father was, I was grateful he had at least given me a stubborn streak. It helped me regain some ground in the private room, even if it meant pretending everything was fine.

When I left the room, it finally hit me that a three-year relationship was over.

"Wow, you've got a pretty firm grip," the young guy said, his soft voice snapping me back to reality.

I realized I had dragged him halfway down the hallway. I quickly let go and apologized, preparing to leave, but he grabbed my arm. However, he held onto me.

"You can't just kiss a guy like that and leave. You owe me now."

Suddenly, the autumn air felt much hotter than it should have. His stare was so intense, it felt like he was undressing me with his eyes. I could not help but wonder if he was planning to use this incident to leech off me.

I was wearing designer clothes, so it would not have been surprising if he had figured out I came from money. Unfortunately for him, I was definitely not in the habit of keeping men, and the action in the private room was just so that I was not on the losing end.

The thought of such a handsome man after my money only heightened my disgust with men. I fished a few hundred-dollar bills out of my purse and handed them to him, but the confusion on his face seemed to imply that the money was not enough.

"It's just a kiss. Don't push it," I commented, reaching for more cash.

However, the guy stopped me and said, "I don't want your money. How about we settle this another way?"

I ended up spending the night with this stranger, and he was my first intimate encounter besides Timothy. The memory of last night burned vividly in my mind—his firm arms, smooth muscles, and the way he moved like an insatiable beast, keeping me up until late.

"Say my name," he had murmured in the dark. "It's Ian."

I was barely conscious, lost in exhaustion, and when I hesitated, he would drive into me with more force until I finally moaned out his name, and only then did he relent.

Leaning down, he whispered, "Forget him."

It had all happened so fast that I barely had time to process the breakup, let alone feel sad about it. Staring at the messy sheets and scattered clothes, I realized the reckless thing I had done.

Just then, Ian Baker's slender hand pulled me into his arms. Unlike last night's wild passion, this time, he seemed more like a gentle puppy—obedient and affectionate.

"Since we've slept together, I'm yours now," he said softly. "From now on, there can only be one person in your life—me. And as for Timothy, you can forget about him. He's just my cousin, and it won't affect anything."

My hands froze as I was getting dressed.