Hot daddy's best friend
"You shouldn't be here, Fiona," his deep voice rasped against her ear, his hand still pressed against the wall behind her.
"Then tell me to leave," she whispered, her lips trembling inches from his. He didn't move. He didn't breathe. And in that moment, she knew he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
Fiona Harry has lived her whole life in a golden cage of wealth, reputation, and suffocating rules. University was supposed to be her escape, her first taste of freedom. But nothing could prepare her for the moment she came face-to-face with Professor Jalen Hart, her father's best friend. One reckless night changes everything. A drunken mistake turns into an irresistible obsession, pulling her deeper into Jalen's forbidden world. But secrets don't stay hidden forever. Between Jude, her possessive friend who knows too much, Marian, Jalen's wicked wife, and the dangerous power of desire, Fiona is about to risk not only hers and her family's reputation but her entire future.
And what happens when the truth comes out especially to Marian?
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Chapter 5
Her loud laughter interrupted my fading thoughts.
"You sounded like you were being fucked so hard! And did I hear you call Jalen? You don't come close girl-It's past school hours, and you're still in bed?" Kelly snapped, her thick, sluggish voice echoing through the room.
If only she knew how right she was about her assumption. And thanks to her, she had ruined the beautiful moment - right at the same spot where it always stopped. I was so close, I wished she hadn't shown up.
My eyes flew open at her words. I immediately grabbed my phone and checked the time.
10:00 a.m.
"Oh my God," I muttered under my breath, leaping out of bed and rushing to the shower. Kelly's laughter didn't stop until she finally stormed out of the room - a relief that felt like fresh air. I was still terrified of her, even though we hadn't spent much time together yet.
After a few minutes, I hurried out of the room and made my way to my first class - technically, the second one of the day already. But my legs froze halfway through the door when my eyes landed on him.
There he was - Jalen.
He looked as gorgeous as the image that always appeared in my dreams. His grey cotton turtleneck hugged his broad, tailored chest perfectly. The scent of his cologne drifted through the air - strong yet calming - and my body reacted before my mind could stop it. The memories of last night's dream flashed through my head - the heat, the pleasure, the teasing.
I swallowed hard, feeling a shiver crawl down my spine. My body trembled slightly. Then his voice pierced through the silence.
"Fiona... are you coming in, or planning to camp by the door?" he said casually, his eyes briefly lifting from his iPad.
"Oh-uh, sorry, sir. I was just... coming in," I stammered, quickly stepping into the classroom and heading straight for the last seat by the window.
As I settled beside my new seatmate, she leaned closer and whispered, "You're lucky he's the one teaching today."
"Why?" I whispered back, glancing at her. Her soft curls framed her pretty face, and the loose black blouse she wore hung slightly off her shoulder as if she'd rushed out without care.
"Because he's the nicest of all the professors," she said. "Stick around for a while, and you'll see."
"Obviously," I murmured sarcastically, earning a grin from her.
"I'm Paris," she whispered. "We could talk more over lunch later."
Before I could reply, his voice echoed through the room.
"Miss Paris and Miss Fiona - save your conversation for after class, alright?"
The way he said my name made my heart skip. It didn't sound like a scolding. It sounded like a warning - or maybe a reminder of something I couldn't explain.
Our eyes met for a brief moment before he looked away. My pulse quickened, and I tried hard to focus on his lecture. But I couldn't. Every time he moved, my gaze followed. When he turned his back to the class, my eyes lingered - watching the subtle clench of his little butt cheeks and the way his shirt stretched across his structure.
I bit down on my lower lip, hardly hearing a word he said until a folded note slipped under my hand.
"You happened to be in my class, hun?" I read.
I looked around and caught sight of Jude sitting at the far end of the class, his rough brown hair dropped over one side of his face, slightly messy but suiting his cute face. I flipped the paper and wrote back:
"Hi, Clumsy." I felt him roll his eyes.
The class went on for what felt like forever before Jalen finally ended it.
"Alright, see you all in the next class. All assessments should be submitted to my email by the due date," he said, gathering his things before leaving the room.
I began packing my books, but my mind was already elsewhere - planning to trail him to his office once the hallway was clear. That was the last class of the day, and I wasn't ready to end it without seeing him again.
Paris turned to me with a grin and stretched out her hand.
"Hi, I'm Paris," she repeated cheerfully.
"You mentioned that earlier... during our whispered conversation," I said with a small smile, my eyebrow arching slightly before I turned back to my books.
"Oh-right," she laughed awkwardly. "Well... would you like me to show you around the cafeteria? Though, I'll warn you - the food there isn't great."
I hesitated, then stood up. She followed beside me eagerly. I didn't mind her company, even though her timing had completely ruined my secret plan to follow Jalen. But I didn't really have a choice either.
"Sure," I said casually.
After a long walk filled mostly with her endless chatter, we finally reached the cafeteria. The place was crowded, buzzing with students and chatter. We grabbed our trays and found a quiet corner away from the noise.
She was right - the food looked terrible, barely appetizing. I picked at something that seemed edible enough not to upset my stomach.
"Why bring me here when you know how bad it is? How have you survived this?" I asked, squinting at her.
Paris leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I usually sneak out to grab real food," she whispered.
My eyes widened. "You what?"
"I know it's against the rules," she said quickly. "But considering what's on your plate right now... wouldn't you do the same?"
I couldn't help but laugh softly. "You have a point."
"If you don't mind, we can go later. It'll be fun," she murmured, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
Just then, a familiar figure approached our table. The air shifted, and I knew who it was. I rolled my eyes before he could open his mouth.
"Did I just hear sneaking out?"
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8.2
For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room.
Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her.
At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister.
When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death.
Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop.
Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed.
"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused."
She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear.
"My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened."
As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.
9.8
When Dawn Collins agrees to marry a stranger, love is the last thing on her mind.
All she wants is to protect her siblings and give them a better life. But fate leads her into the arms of Adam Manchester-a man whose heart belongs to a wife lying in a coma.
As Dawn slowly melts the ice around Adam's heart, she begins to believe that maybe, just maybe, love can bloom from sacrifice.
But on the night she's ready to claim her happiness, Adam's wife wakes up.
Now, caught between guilt, love, and heartbreak, Dawn must decide whether to fight for the man she's grown to love... or walk away from the life she risked everything to build.
Because some hearts never let go-and some love stories were never meant to have an easy ending.
9.7
Gemma expected the tearing agony of the bullet wound that had just ended her life.
Instead, her trembling fingers met the cool, smooth friction of heavy silk.
She stared into the mirror. Her face was flawless, completely devoid of the jagged scar that had marred her cheek for the last five years.
It was exactly ten years ago. The day of her engagement party to the ruthless billionaire, Brion Hubbard.
In her past life, her "best friend" Katelyn convinced her to run away with a scheming scumbag.
Katelyn claimed Brion was a heartless tyrant who would ruin her. Gemma had foolishly believed those fake tears.
That choice led to her family's bankruptcy, her brutal disfigurement, and ultimately, a fatal bomb explosion.
The only person who tried to save her was Brion, his blood-soaked body shielding hers from the blast.
She even realized too late that the strawberry cream cakes she always made for him were full of dairy.
He wasn't leaving to cheat on her. He was locking himself in a medical bay, fighting fatal allergic shock, just to accept a tiny scrap of her affection.
Gemma had been so incredibly blind. Why did she trust the venomous snakes who destroyed her, while hating the man who died for her?
Hearing Katelyn frantically knocking on the dressing room door, urging her to run away again, a towering hatred surged through Gemma's veins.
This time, she wasn't going to run.
She was going to expose the traitors, take back her family's wealth, and claim the tyrant for herself.
9.0
Carli followed an anonymous text to a dark garage, only to find her fiancé of seven years tangled with another woman in his Porsche.
She smashed his window, threw her engagement ring at his face, and walked away.
But the betrayal didn't stop there. Her own family sided with the cheater. Her father slapped her across the face so hard she bled, demanding she hand over her late aunt's trust fund.
"If you don't do exactly as you're told tonight, I will freeze every credit card in your name," her father roared.
Forced to attend the exclusive Gutierrez family gala, Carli watched her ex-fiancé parade his cheap mistress to humiliate her, while her stepsister tried to publicly ruin her.
Suddenly, a violent screech echoed as the massive crystal chandelier above them snapped from the ceiling.
In a split second of pure instinct, Vaughn shoved his mistress to safety and threw himself to the ground, completely abandoning Carli to be crushed.
Staring up at the plummeting glass, Carli felt the crushing reality that her entire life had been surrounded by monsters.
But the fatal impact never came.
A massive force yanked her into a hard chest, shielding her body entirely from the explosive shrapnel.
Carli opened her eyes to find Fletcher Gutierrez—the ruthless billionaire king of Wall Street and the masked stranger from her reckless one-night stand—bleeding heavily over her.
Feeling his warm blood on her hands, Carli knew the game had just changed.
8.9
My family's company went bankrupt, and my biological father was lying in the ICU, kept alive by machines that cost tens of thousands a day.
I thought it was just a tragic business failure, until I caught my mother in bed with my stepfather.
They had secretly transferred all our assets months ago, deliberately bankrupting the company and leaving my father to die.
To pay the hospital bills, my stepfather forced me to a private club, trying to sell me to a sleazy investor.
When I refused, he slapped me across the face, and my mother just looked at me with cold, dead eyes.
"Be realistic, Jaelynn. A woman's body is a tool. Use it to get what you need."
Later, right before my father's emergency surgery, my stepfather signed a Do Not Resuscitate order and froze the medical accounts.
"If you don't get on your knees and spread your legs for him, I will tell the hospital to pull your father's plug."
Standing in the freezing rain, covered in mud and blood, I stared at the astronomical hospital bill in my hand.
My own family had plotted to murder my father and sell me to the highest bidder. The betrayal shattered every ounce of sanity I had left.
I didn't cry or beg them anymore.
Instead, I pulled out a water-stained, gold-embossed business card.
It belonged to Dolph Valentine, the most ruthless billionaire in New York and my ex-fiancé's uncle.
If they wanted to destroy my life, I was going to sell my soul to the biggest monster of them all and drag them straight to hell.
7.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."