
My Stepfather’s Forbidden Desire
Moon Bunnie · Ongoing · 47.0k Words
Introduction
Roxy never wanted her mother’s new life.
She certainly never expected to find herself living under the same roof as Dorian Sinclair—the powerful billionaire who now calls himself her stepfather.
Calm. Controlled. Unreadable.
Dorian sees everything, including the secret Roxy wishes she could erase.
After he catches her witnessing something she was never meant to see, he doesn’t expose her. Instead, he quietly tightens his grip on her life. A driver follows her everywhere. Her movements are monitored. Every door seems to lead back to him.
The estate may be beautiful, but Roxy soon realizes it is a cage.
Then Evander comes home.
Her former love. The boy who once broke her heart. The one person who knows who she was before the Sinclair family took over her life.
Now Roxy is trapped between the man who knows her secret and the man who knows her past.
But the more she learns about the Sinclair family, the more she realizes that moving into Dorian’s house was never a fresh start.
It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.
And the man she was supposed to call Dad may be the very reason she can never escape.
Chapter 1
I woke up to sunlight on my face and a dull, heavy throb behind my eyes.
For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The ceiling was too white. The room was too quiet. Nothing in it belonged to me.
I sat up too quickly, and the room swayed.
My mouth was dry, and my skin flushed. My entire body felt heavy and sore, and my stomach turned before I could even understand why.
The spot beside me on the mattress was empty, and the sheets were cold to the touch.
I pressed a hand to my forehead and tried to piece together the night before. A glass of fruit juice. The room spinning out of control. A voice down the hallway. Strong arms lifting me up.
After that, everything dissolved into a fog. Just a strange, burning heat, and the sound of my own voice agreeing to something I couldn’t remember.
My graduation dress hung folded over a velvet chair, creased at exactly the right places. I never fold anything. Whoever did this had taken their time.
On the nightstand, my phone showed four missed calls: two from my mother, two from Anna. None from the person I’d believed was with me.
I told myself that didn’t mean anything. I didn’t believe it.
I made myself look. No note. No wallet, no watch, nothing left behind. A faint smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air, though the room had no ashtray and no one I knew smoked.
Then I dressed with unsteady hands and stepped into a quiet corridor. A man in a dark uniform appeared almost at once.
“Miss Sinclair. Your driver is waiting downstairs.”
I hadn’t called for a car. I hadn’t told anyone where I was. And no one had called me that name before.
Once, I would have demanded to know how they’d found me. I had believed that asking the right questions got honest answers. I’d learned better in that house.
So I asked nothing. I followed him downstairs, letting him think I was too dazed to wonder how they’d found me. If he was reporting back, I wanted to know who was listening.
I stepped out into the morning air, weighed down by the secrets of a house I barely understood, with no idea who had put me in that bed.
I knew only one thing for sure.
Someone had planned last night down to the last detail. And whoever it was, they were nowhere near finished with me.
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