~~Alejandro~~

I don't know anything about my mum. She died while giving birth to me–or so I heard. Some said she was a mistress, others claimed she was the real wife. The truth behind that, I don't know, and I don't care either.

I lived with my dad during my childhood, and I had watched countless women try to play the stepmother role, just because my father was wealthy. Growing up, many of them used tricks and schemes to get my attention, but every single one of those games was already familiar to me.

Last week, my assistant informed me that my father was planning to find a wife for his grandson.

Another woman in the house, I thought with disgust.

Fifteen years ago, my stepsister barged into our lives with her son, claiming Rodriguez blood. I was certain it was a scam- another woman clawing for fortune. But the truth proved otherwise. She was one of us.

And in those fifteen years, she has reminded me of one thing: women will sell their souls for money. They'll trade dignity for power, blood for wealth, even family for survival. I've seen it. I've lived it. And I'll never forget it.

I did some research about the Ramos, and I found out they only have just one daughter. So why are there two now? Someone clearly thinks they can outsmart the Rodriguezs.

"Find out more about her," I told my assistant on our way home.

As we passed one of the Rodriguez clubs, I noticed a family figure standing outside. My eyes narrowed immediately. "Stop the car," I instructed, my gaze fixed on the scene. I leaned back, calm but calculating, as I observed.

She stood there for minutes, frozen, like she was afraid to go inside. That was my niece-in-law. I needed to know why she was here, because I don't waste time on questions without answers. People always bend to me, either with money or with their dirty little scandals. That's how I get results. So I decided to step in.

Inside, I spotted her among a cluster of girls her age. Teenagers. I couldn't help but wonder who allowed kids like them to drink themselves stupid in a place like this.

I took a seat at the bar counter, ordered a glass of whiskey, and observed.

Then she came closer. Bold. Too bold. Her words hit me like a strike: she asked how much she would pay for a night with her. For the first time in years, I was shocked. Women usually chase my money, not flip the game on me.

There was something about her,dangerous and magnetic. She grabbed my tie, pulled me in, her beauty undeniable but cloaked in something I couldn't read. And that's rare for me. I can read any woman... but not her.

Then she did the unthinkable. She kissed me. I had come here to uncover a scandal, but instead, I lost control. For once, I wasn't the man pulling the strings. I kissed her back.

After that night, I knew one thing-I wanted her. Not for a moment, not for a taste. I wanted to own her. To spoil her, to claim every inch of her, to make her mine in ways no one else ever could. I had been gentle before, only because I understood pain comes with a woman first time. But deep inside, I wanted to break through her fear, to see her unravel beneath me. I always get what I want. That's who I am. But now... I was breaking my own rules. This little forbidden bunny was making me forget my morals, and I hated how much I craved her.

I never liked going home. My stepsister's whining about her son joining the company was unbearable. But the moment my assistant mentioned she would be moving into the mansion, everything changed.

I went back. I watched as the maid led her through the hall, her steps quiet, her presence fragile. She looked lonely, and there was fear in her eyes-fear I wanted to erase and replace with something else.

From the balcony, I stayed in the shadows. I don't chase women. I never knock on doors. They throw themselves at me-I don't make exceptions. I took out a cigarette and clicked my lighter, but quickly stopped as I heard footsteps.

She appeared on the balcony, her golden hair glimmering in the moonlight, her nightdress clinging to her slim waist and soft curves. My chest tightened. Every movement of hers reminded me of last night-her surrender, the way she melted under my touch.

She was dangerous. She didn't even know what she was doing to me. And yet, all I wanted now was simple: to make her just as addicted to me as I already was to her.

I watched her staring up at the sky, whispering words I couldn't quite catch. She looked so fragile in that moment, as if the night was the only one listening to her secrets.

I lit my cigarette, and the sharp sound broke the silence. She turned quickly, startled, her eyes locking with mine. As I walked closer, her fragrance hit me citrus, floral... the same scent that clung to me from last night.

I came closer, She stepped back until her body rested against the balustrade, nowhere else to go. I closed the distance, taking the last drag from my cigarette before tossing it aside. Leaning in, I let the smoke drift past her, my lips close to her ear. I could hear her heartbeat fast, uneven. I whispered, low and certain,

"Are you regretting your decision?"

I caged her in, both hands gripping the balustrade on either side of her, leaving her trapped in the middle.

"Alejandro..." She breathed my name so softly.

I turned my face toward hers, so close our noses brushed, our breaths mixing in the cold night air. My restraint was slipping, but my pride held me there, wavering on the edge.

Gradually, I leaned in for a kiss, controlled, careful, watching her eyes. She knew the truth now-I was her fiancé's uncle. That knowledge should have made me stop. But it didn't. I wanted her too much. I wasn't a man used to hesitation, yet in that moment, I hoped that she wouldn't push me away.

At first, she hesitated, her lips trembling against mine. But then, slowly, she responded. That alone was enough to ignite the desire I'd been restraining. When her weak arms curled around my neck, I pulled her closer, lifting her effortlessly, as our height differences were making it hard for her to keep her balance.

I carried her to the darker corner of the balcony and sat back on the couch, pulling her into me. I wanted to give her a night she would never forget now and here, but at the same time, I wanted her to feel safe, comfortable...

Her lips trailed from my cheek down to my neck, and I tilted my head, giving her the access . When she sucked at my bump I groaned. She was driving me insane.

I cupped her face, pulling her eyes back to mine. "We're home," I murmured,

"Are you sure about this?",Because right now... I'm losing control

For a second, she just looked at me. Then she pulled away, adjusting her nightdress, and walked toward the balustrade. I sat there, silent, watching her, trying to read her thoughts.

"Uncle... I think we should stop."

My chest went still. My jaw clenched.

Wait.

What?

Did she just call me-Uncle?

~~Elena~~

I need to stop this. No matter how much I crave his touch, nothing will change the fact that he's my fiancé's uncle. This complication isn't just about me, Grandma's life is entangled in it too.

"We need to stop this, Uncle," I said, forcing courage into my voice. I had to draw the line, to remind both him and myself of who he truly was.

Silence filled the night air as he said nothing.

I wondered if he was still here.

I quickly turned, and there he was, his figure standing tall in the shadows.

Then he moved. Slowly. Each step echoed like a warning, deliberate and unhurried.

his hands buried in his pockets, his crisp white sleeves rolled to the elbows, three buttons undone at his collar.

We have to stop," I repeated, my voice barely steady, as if he hadn't heard me the first time. Or maybe I was trying to convince myself more than him.

There was no trace of emotion in his face.he felt so unbothered as if my words meant nothing.

"Is that what you wanted?" he asked, his voice cold yet husky.

My heart sank. That wasn't what I wanted, not truly. But the moment I tried to reply, the words stuck in my throat, and I knew if I spoke, I might regret it forever.

"Alright. I'll stop," he said.

The words cut through me like a blade. They were mine-I had suggested them-yet hearing them from his lips broke something inside me. Because deep down, I craved him more than I could ever admit.

He was a powerful man, Desired, Respected, and surrounded by beautiful women willing to bend to his will. I am sure to him, I was just another temptation easily discarded.

I watched his back as he walked toward the door, every step pulling him further away from me. I could hear my body screaming , at this moment I wanted to run to him, hug him from the back and beg him to stay, to tell him I was just joking.

But I couldn't. Grandma's life still hung in the balance.

I have to let him go. Meeting him was a mistake to begin with.

*****************

I felt the warmth of the morning sun brushing across my face. My eyelid was so heavy as I tried to open it slowly. It's Morning already. I must have cried myself to sleep, because the ache in my chest was still fresh,

"Good morning, ma'am," the maid's voice broke softly into my thoughts. She stood by the door, her tone polite but cautious, as if she could still sense the storm in me.

"The Elder asked you to join the family for breakfast," she added.

For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling. Breakfast with the family?I just hoped I wouldn't meet him at the dining table.

With trembling hands, I pushed myself up. Instead of heading straight downstairs, I went in to freshen up. The cold splash of water against my face did little to wash away the puffiness of my eyes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to piece together the version of myself that everyone expected to see, Composed, and Untouched.

I stepped down and noticed he was not there. I sighed in relief.

I walked closer, studying their expressions. The old man had a big smile on his face, warm and welcoming as always. The woman, just like before, made it clear she disliked me, every glance sharp, every movement dripping with judgement.

My fiancé didn't even spare me a glance, as if I care.

"Elena, how was your night? Hope you slept well," the old man said, his wide smile filling the room.

I gave a small nod in response, a simple gesture of greeting, though my mind was spinning. My eyes scanned the dining table-five chairs arranged neatly: two on the right, two on the left, and one at the edge. The old man and his daughter were already seated on the right side, so I decided to join my fiancé on the other side.

The table was a display of wealth and refinement. Golden cutlery, fine porcelain plates were set with delicate patterns, and crystal glasses shimmered. Freshly baked croissants, flaky pastries, and warm bread baskets were placed alongside small dishes of butter, jam, and local Madrid cheeses. A carafe of freshly squeezed orange juice and a steaming pot of café con leche completed the spread.

"You are such a well-behaved girl," the old man added, his voice warm, almost approving.

"She's well-behaved... and she kept us waiting," the woman muttered coldly, her tone dripping with disdain.

"Grandpa, I'm sure you didn't call so early for breakfast. Hope there's some good news," Carlos said, trying to lighten the mood.

"You left your fiancé all alone last night," the old man said, his voice calm and cold.

"Starting from today onward,You have to come home every day because, both of you have to cultivate feelings, so I can see my great-grandson," I almost choked at the old man's voice.

"Wait... what? A child? With this man? Never!"

"Grandpa, I'm not ready to be a father," Carlos said, his tone sharp and disrespectful.

Thank goodness he doesn't want to have a child with me either.

"Uncle!" Carlos said excitedly. My heart sank into my stomach.

Wait... what? He's still around?