DOMINATED THE IN-LAW
"Oh. God, Eli, please! I'm not on the pills," I gasped, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
"With a pussy as sweet as that?" he growled against my neck. "Jett was the loser. I'm not. I'm gonna fuck this pussy till the end. Afraid you're gonna have my child?"
My head dropped as a shudder ripped through me. "You're crazy!"
His voice dropped to a whisper. "You're mine now. My woman. And I'm gonna fuck you until this pretty body of yours only knows me."
---
Rowanne Steele thought she had it all. A perfect marriage to Jett Carter, heir to the Carter empire, and a future filled with love. But when Jett dies in a tragic car crash, her world shatters. Her mourning days aren't over, still clinging to his memory, drowning in grief and loyalty to the man she thought she knew.
Until one night, a hidden truth rises from his belongings and everything Rowanne believed about her husband was a lie.
Lost and heartbroken, she runs into the only arms that feel safe, Eli Carter, Jett's younger brother.
What begins as a moment of comfort in the rain turns into a mistake neither of them can forget. A mistake that feels far too much like fate.
Rowanne swears it can't happen again. Eli refuses to let go. Whether forbidden or not, he's determined to claim her. And this time, he won't lose.
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Chapter 7
ROWANNE'S POV
For a moment, I wanted to protest again but the way his hand rested on my back silenced me. It wasn't rough. It was possessive. It was steady, warm.
Like he commanded me silently... the kind of touch that said he wasn't asking.
Eli didn't look at me, didn't say another word. He just guided me through the restaurant like the world existed only in the inches between us.
The pressure of his palm against my spine made my pulse race far faster than it should have. My body betrayed me, remembering what it felt like to be pressed against his, to taste his breath when the lines blurred last time.
Outside, the night wrapped around us, soft and cool. The faint scent of rain lingered in the air.
"Get in carefully," he murmured.
He placed one large hand against the frame of the car, the other hovering above my head to shield it as I bent to slide in. His nearness sent a shiver down my skin. The air between us was thick with things we didn't say.
He closed the door gently. I watched him circle to the driver's side, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable, but his silence spoke louder than anything.
As we drove, I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances at him.
The sharp lines of his face caught the flickering light from the passing street lamps, the firm set of his mouth, the muscle in his jaw twitching and the faint vein that pulsed near his temple. His fingers gripped the steering wheel.
He didn't look at me once, but I could feel him. The tension in the air between us was alive, rolling off him like heat and crawling under my skin until I couldn't breathe properly.
When the car slowed down at my home. I said quietly, "You didn't have to."
He turned his head finally, his gaze meeting mine dark, steady, and devastatingly soft. "I'll walk you in."
And that's when it hit me how dangerous that would be. My control was already stretched thin. One touch, one second too close, and I knew I'd crumble.
"No," I said, but my voice came out fragile, almost pleading. "That's fine. I can walk myself in."
I wasn't sure if he even heard me. Eli's jaw flexed. Without a word, he stepped out, his tall frame moving around the car. He opened my door and stretched out his hand, waiting.
I just stared at him, knowing he wouldn't back down. His patience was its own kind of power, masculine and impossible to resist. I took a slow breath, ignoring his hand as I stepped out.
He shut the door behind me, and all I could feel was him. His presence towered over me, so magnetic. My pulse pounded in my ears.
I walked faster, desperate to reach my door. But just as I reached for the lock, his fingers wrapped around my wrist, strong.
"Eli-" He turned me sharply, and I stumbled back.
My spine hit the door, the cool metal pressing through my dress. My head nearly struck it too, but his hand caught the back of my skull, shielding me. His body was inches from mine, heat pouring off him in waves.
"Eli!" I breathed, though it came out softer, more like a moan than his name.
He leaned closer, his breath brushing against my cheek. I turned my head to the side, trying to breathe, but his scent filled my lungs intoxicatingly.
My heart hammered wildly. If he moved just a fraction closer, he'd feel it.
"I meant it," he whispered, his voice low and rough. "Every word, Ro. I want you. I want to love you. Touch you. Kiss you, and..."
I knew the next word. I knew it before he said it. But I stayed still, trapped in that sliver of heat and danger, waiting and wanting to hear it from him.
"Fuck you," he murmured finally, his lips so close I could almost taste the word as it slipped out darkly like a prayer meant only for me.
I swallowed, my throat tight and dry, fingers clinging to my purse as if it could ground me.
Eli's voice came low, steady, threaded with a dangerous kind of calm. "I can smell the hunger in you. You don't have to suppress every ache, Ro."
My breath caught. His words hit me. He took a small step closer with the faintest smile playing at his lips.
"When you stare at me with those blue eyes," he murmured, "I can tell how much you want to run your fingers through my hair just like you did that night. Even now, I can tell how much you're testing your control."
He didn't pause, didn't falter.
"I know you and Jett never clicked. Your marriage was arranged. I know he never loved you..." His eyes softened, the next words coming like a promise. "But I can. I can love you in ways that would leave you breathless."
The words sank into the air between us. He was seducing me. He was confessing.
I looked up at him, my pulse hammering so hard I thought I could hear it. His eyes were serious, darkened by something that felt too real.
He didn't stammer. Not once.
"I am your sister-in-law," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips. "Married to your brother. You would fuck your brother's wife?"
He smiled faintly at the way the word came out raw, shaken, almost like it burned my tongue.
His voice dropped. "You're all I want, Rowanne Steele."
That name. Steele.
It struck something in me. The devil, they said, was ugly. But the man in front of me was anything but. Brown-haired, blue-eyed, tall, too beautiful for someone who could sound so damn sinful. His tongue dripped with honey and each word coaxed me closer to temptation.
The name Steele hadn't left anyone's lips since my marriage to Jett. He'd made sure of it. That I changed everything. My passport, my ID, even my work files. I was Carter now.
But Eli had called me Steele to remind me of who I was before. Of how single, how widowed I really was. How free I was to crave another man.
He leaned back then, watching me quietly. "I just want you to be happy," he said softly, "and smile like you did at my apartment. You look radiant, Rowanne."
My chest tightened. I swallowed again, trying to breathe through the weight of his gaze. "That's... that's not your problem."
He smirked, his eyes trailing down my body, before rising to meet mine again. "Go in," he murmured. "And answer my calls, Ro."
I hesitated for a second, my heart slamming against my ribs. I couldn't stand those eyes any longer with the way they stripped me bare.
I turned away, reaching for the door, when his voice came again, deep and rough enough to still me. "You looked very beautiful today. As always."
My chest ached. I turned back. Our eyes locked, and for a brief moment, I couldn't breathe. Then, I tore myself away, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
As soon as I closed it, my body slumped against the wood. My breath came shallow, shaky and quick.
Was he still outside? Watching?
I forced myself upright, flicking on the lights. The mansion glowed in cold silence. It was too big and too empty. Every echo of my footsteps reminded me how alone I was.
Sometimes, it felt like Rapunzel was trapped in a tower. No one really saw her. No one understood her.
Except Eli and one look from him, and I felt seen. Exposed. Desired. Alive.
My phone rang suddenly. The sound sliced through the silence. I found it in my purse, and relief washed over me when I saw the name. Vivian. My sister.
I answered quickly. "Rowanne!"
"Oh, Vivian," I sighed, climbing the stairs, trying to steady my voice. "Is something wrong?"
"Don't tell me you forgot my wedding?"
I froze mid-step. My heart skipped. "What? No. I-" I swallowed. "I already arranged everything. I'll be in Thailand next week."
"Good!" she said cheerfully. "Better be early. I have a little surprise for you!"
She giggled, and before I could respond. The call ended.
I reached my room and sank onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The world felt too heavy.
Then it hit me, hard and clearer. I dialled her back immediately. When she picked up.
I said, "I'll be there in two days."
There was no hesitation in my voice this time. I needed distance. I needed to breathe again.
Maybe Thailand's waters would cool what Eli Carter had ignited. Maybe time away would make him come to his senses.
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7.4
I single-handedly saved my family's corporate empire from a hostile takeover, securing our market share for the next decade.
But my grandfather didn't see me as a hero. He saw me as a flawed piece of inventory.
To calm the board and fix the reputation I supposedly ruined, he forced me into an arranged marriage, auctioning me off to the highest bidder.
Desperate, I turned to my childhood friend, Egnacio, the only person who ever promised to protect me.
But instead of saving me, he publicly humiliated me. He used my desperation as a networking opportunity, pitching my arranged marriage as a business deal to a ruthless private equity king named Dexter Mathews.
Later that night, I caught Egnacio holding my cruel cousin in his arms.
"What man wants to be with a woman who looks at you like she's planning a hostile takeover?"
Hearing him mock my pain shattered the last bit of hope I had.
I realized I was never family to them. I was just a sharp knife, used to cut down their enemies and then traded for cash before I got dull.
The heartbreak vanished, replaced by a cold, violent rage.
I didn't break, and I didn't run.
Instead, I got into the back of Dexter Mathews's car. He had watched my family tear me apart, but he didn't see a broken pawn. He saw a queen.
And together, we were going to burn their entire empire to the ground.
7.5
On the morning of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I found a cream-colored document tucked inside my husband's suit pocket.
It was a twenty-million-dollar asset transfer for his former receptionist, Carmen. But what made my blood run cold was the contingent beneficiary: Leo, my newborn son who the hospital claimed was kidnapped twenty-three years ago.
When I confronted Devonte, he didn't even try to explain. He handed me a fake Cartier watch, canceled all my credit cards, and publicly called me delusional.
The next day, he moved Carmen into our mansion and emptied all our joint accounts into offshore trusts.
"If you don't sign these papers and walk away, I will have you committed," he threatened, his mother nodding in agreement.
They had orchestrated the kidnapping of my baby, hiding him with the mistress while I spent half my life sedated and screaming in grief. Now, to keep his secret, Devonte was going to lock me in a psychiatric ward and bury me in debt.
I didn't understand how the man I loved could be such a monster. Why did he steal my child? What else was hidden in that confidential adoption file?
Pushed to the absolute brink, I refused to be his victim.
When his goons came to my temporary apartment to drag me away, I turned to the rugged union electrician who had just fixed my lights.
"If you need a husband to keep you out of a psych ward, I'll marry you," he said, offering himself as my legal shield.
I took his hand. It was time to tear my husband's perfect life apart.
7.2
Blaire woke up in a Manhattan penthouse, her body covered in bruises and her innocence stolen.
Before she could process the terror, her adoptive sister Danita burst in, acting heartbroken and accusing Blaire of shamelessly seducing the powerful Kamryn Lane. Kamryn threw a one-million-dollar check at Blaire's bleeding face, calling her a calculating gold digger.
That night, Blaire overheard a conversation in the family study that shattered her entire reality.
"Once she gives birth to the Lane family's seed, we'll stage an accident, drain her blood, and transplant her healthy heart into your chest."
Her adoptive mother and Danita were celebrating the success of their trap. She wasn't an adopted daughter; she was a living organ bank and a disposable surrogate. Even her adoptive brother, Calhoun, knew everything, trapping her in the dark hallways with a sick, possessive obsession to ensure she never escaped.
The horrific truth suffocated her. The family that had taken her in had raised her like livestock for slaughter. How could they smile at her every day while planning to carve out her heart?
Terrified but burning with a desperate will to survive, Blaire swallowed a Plan B pill to ruin their surrogate plot and fled the estate. To get the money and power she needed to crush her adoptive family, she pulled out Kamryn Lane's business card. This time, she would make a deal with the devil.
9.5
Elsie was the Sutton family's perfect puppet, a sickly heiress locked away in a pristine manor and treated like fragile porcelain. Her only purpose was to be a pawn in her mother's corporate games.
Without warning, her mother ordered her to marry Duke Blake, a ruthless, cold-blooded billionaire known for destroying his rivals. Worse, her mother immediately handed over total control of Elsie's life to him, declaring she couldn't even step outside the gates without his explicit permission.
Desperate, Elsie met him and asked if she would be expected to perform wifely duties, praying for a marriage in name only.
"I have a very high sex drive."
He stated it bluntly, shattering her illusions. Yet, when he drove her into the city days later, a sudden swerve sent her tumbling directly into his lap. Instead of the desire he claimed to possess, his body went completely rigid. He violently shoved her away, slamming her hard against the passenger seat. His face was pale, his knuckles white, and he stared straight ahead with a look of absolute, terrifying revulsion.
Humiliation and sharp pain coiled in her chest. She couldn't understand. Why did he demand absolute control over her and boast about his desires, only to treat her accidental touch like a repulsive disease? Why did this all-powerful man secretly smell of hospital antiseptics? What exactly was the Sutton family forcing her to marry?
But she was no longer willing to be a lamb led to the slaughter. Thinking of the provocative black lace hidden behind her wardrobe's false wall, Elsie smiled coldly. She was going to find the fatal flaw in this ruthless billionaire's code, and use it to completely shatter her cage.
8.9
For seven years, I hid my MIT Ph.D. and my identity as a top haute couture designer to be the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Cornelius Lambert.
But on our anniversary, while I waited at home with a cold dinner, I found him at a Michelin restaurant with his childhood sweetheart, Halle.
My seven-year-old son sat between them, laughing loudly.
"Mom is too boring. I wish Aunt Halle was my real mom."
Cornelius didn't defend me. He just smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair.
When I finally packed my bags and left, I accidentally triggered an old AI robot prototype Cornelius had given me years ago.
A hidden recording played his voice from the very night he proposed.
"Why marry her? Because she's easy to control. Halle doesn't want to settle down yet, so Cassidy is just a perfect, temporary shield."
Later, when I caught them being intimate in a dark parking garage and snapped a photo, Cornelius watched with cold, dead eyes as his massive bodyguard shoved me against a concrete pillar.
My arm was torn open, blood dripping onto the floor, as they forced me to delete the evidence of his affair.
For seven years, I filed down every sharp edge of my brilliance for a man who saw me as nothing but a pathetic, disposable placeholder.
My heart turned to absolute ice. He thought I was just a weak, powerless housewife.
But he forgot who he was dealing with.
As his luxury car drove away, I pulled up the hidden command terminal on my phone and recovered the encrypted cloud backup of the photos.
I looked at my lawyer with a bleeding arm and a cold smile.
"Let's go. Now, we have a weapon."
9.3
After eight years in captivity, I was finally rescued. I thought it was the beginning of a new life with my mother.
But she didn't even look at me. She ran into the arms of a handsome stranger, her real husband, and I was treated like a dirty secret from her past.
They called me a contamination, a reminder of their trauma. My new stepsister set their Doberman on me, and as the dog's teeth sank into my arm, I looked up and saw my mother watching from the window.
She met my eyes for a second, then slowly closed the curtains.
In that moment, the last bit of hope I had died. The shallow bond of family was completely gone, and I finally gave up.
But they made one mistake. The family patriarch, suspicious after a car accident, ordered a secret DNA test.
The results came back on the day of my stepsister's birthday party, revealing a truth that would burn their perfect world to the ground.