Chapter 1[The Betrayal]
Elowen's Pov
The yacht cut through the water toward the private island in the distance.
The ocean was calm—just soft ripples peeling away from the bow.
I sat on the cushioned bench, wind brushing my face, sunlight pouring down on everything.
It should've felt perfect.
But inside? I was a mess.
Because tonight, I'd decided to sleep with Felix for the first time.
Right now, he was stretched out with his head in my lap, a magazine covering his face so I couldn't see his expression.
But his crossed leg was bouncing, foot tapping air.
Yeah. He was excited.
Quinn lounged across from us.
Her skin had that rich, bronzed glow that made everything else look washed out.
Golden waves spilled over her shoulders, catching the light like something out of a shampoo commercial.
She swirled a champagne flute between perfectly manicured fingers.
Every movement screamed money.
Old money.
The yacht we were on? Hers.
The island we were heading to? Also hers.
Hell, even this whole trip revolved around her.
It was her birthday party.
"Your phone's going off again, Elowen."
Her tone was light, but there was an edge underneath.
"Your brother's fine. He's in the hospital like always. Relax."
I glanced at the screen. Another notification. I grabbed it without thinking.
"Milo promised he'd keep me updated."
Quinn let out this long, dramatic sigh.
"Oh my God. He's got professional staff. He's on a schedule. He's medicated. And it's all covered by my family's foundation."
"You really think he can't survive forty-eight hours without you hovering?"
Felix pulled the magazine off his face, his hand sliding to my lower back, fingers tracing slow circles.
"She's got a point, babe."
Easy for them to say.
But Milo wasn't just my brother.
He was the only family I had left. My entire world.
Especially after what happened on that highway...
No.
Not today.
I wasn't going there today.
"I just want to make sure he's stable."
Quinn tossed her hair with this exaggerated flourish.
"I didn't plan this whole party so you could play helicopter mom to your disabled brother."
"Drop the orphan guilt act already."
"Come on, Elowen." Felix's voice softened.
His warm eyes found mine through the messy strands of hair falling across his forehead.
"Milo's probably asleep right now. Everything's fine."
I looked away, swallowing down the heat rising in my throat—shame mixed with anger I had no right to feel.
Because that's how it worked with Quinn Lockwood.
You smiled. You nodded. You let it slide.
Everyone did.
She was the wealthiest heiress in our city, and my feelings about her were... complicated.
When I was about to give up on college because of money, Quinn pulled me in.
Told me her father was Nexus College's biggest donor. Board member. Head of the scholarship fund.
She'd get me covered—tuition, living expenses, everything.
Even Milo's treatment at the Lockwood family's private hospital?
That was her doing too.
She saved us from falling apart completely.
So when Quinn got cruel, when her words cut deep, when she reminded me—without saying it outright—who held the power...
I took it.
Because when you're drowning in debt, the line between gratitude and humiliation gets real blurry real fast.
And running from reality doesn't change the facts.
I owed her everything.
Up ahead, the island came into view, and I actually gasped.
Sleek white buildings scattered across the landscape.
Lush tropical greenery everywhere.
Glass walls glinting in the sun.
It looked like something out of a fairy tale.
Quinn grinned, smug satisfaction written all over her face.
"Welcome to Lockwood Island."
"Holy shit." Felix jumped to his feet, eyes wide. "This place... it's insane."
Quinn's smile didn't waver, but there was no real joy in it.
Probably because she'd heard that reaction a thousand times before.
"Dad values privacy."
Her dad.
Alistair Lockwood.
Chairman of the Lockwood Foundation.
The man who signed off on Milo's treatment plan.
The man funding my entire future.
I'd never actually met him.
But his reputation? Legendary.
Quinn pointed toward the highest building on the estate.
"You can go anywhere on the island. Just stay away from there. That's Dad's wing. Off-limits."
Felix looked ready to bolt.
If we weren't still a hundred feet from shore, I swear he would've jumped in and swam for it.
Quinn drained her champagne, tossed her hair back, and surveyed everything like the queen she was.
Maybe I stared at that building too long.
"Relax, Elowen. He's not even here this weekend."
Quinn's smile sharpened.
Heat rushed to my face.
"I just wanted to thank him in person. For everything the foundation's done for me and Milo."
"Right." Her laugh had a bite to it. "Every girl finds an excuse to meet my father."
Felix chuckled.
Quinn laughed too.
I forced a smile.
Pretended those words didn't sting.
The boat docked, and I was off it immediately, phone gripped tight.
Still nothing from Milo.
Damn it.
"Got our stuff," Felix said, slinging both bags over his shoulder.
Quinn appeared at my side and looped her arm through mine.
"Oh, by the way—you're bunking with Felix. East cabana."
My stomach dropped. "Wait, what?"
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What do you mean, 'what'?"
I couldn't look at her.
She burst out laughing. "Girl, please. You've been together six months. What are you waiting for—a marriage license?"
Before I could answer, she was already heading toward the main house.
Felix stepped closer, his shoulder brushing mine. "You freaking out?"
Heat crawled up my neck. "Maybe a little."
His voice dropped. "Don't worry. I've got you."
My face felt like it was on fire, but something in my chest settled.
Maybe this weekend would be... perfect.
My phone buzzed.
"Hold on—it's my brother."
I turned away and pressed it to my ear.
He'd been napping earlier, he said. Took all his meds on time.
Even ate real food—not takeout.
Told me to chill out and have fun.
Then made some joke about "protection" that made me want to die on the spot.
But it also meant I could finally stop worrying.
And start thinking about tonight.
About Felix.
About finally doing this.
By the time I wandered back, music was already blasting from the pool area.
Felix was gone.
I frowned, scanning the space.
No sign of him.
Maybe he'd gone ahead to the cabana. Getting things ready. Waiting for me.
My pulse kicked up.
Okay.
This was really happening.
I followed the stone path winding toward the east side of the property.
Small solar lights lined the way.
The first cabana was dark.
The second one had light spilling from inside.
I heard voices. Laughter.
Then... nothing.
I slowed down.
Something felt wrong.
You know that feeling? When your gut knows before your brain catches up?
Yeah. That.
But I kept walking anyway.
I moved closer to the window.
The curtains weren't closed all the way.
And that's when I saw them.
Quinn.
My best friend ever since I left high school.
Straddling Felix.
My boyfriend.
For a split second, my brain couldn't process it.
Maybe I was seeing it wrong. Maybe it was someone else.
But it wasn't.
She was moving on top of him, back arched, while his hands gripped her waist like he couldn't get enough.
"More," she breathed.
And he gave it to her.
Like stopping would kill him.
My vision blurred. My legs went weak.
Tonight was supposed to be my night.
He'd literally just looked into my eyes and said, I've got you.
And now...
This.
My chest felt like it was caving in.
Then—almost like she sensed me standing there—Quinn turned her head.
She saw me.
And she didn't stop.
Didn't even slow down.
She smiled.
What the hell...
She kept moving, kept staring right at me, like she wanted me to see every second of it.
Quinn Lockwood.
The girl whose essays I'd written for three years.
The girl I gave my mom's necklace to—the only thing I had left—because she said it would "complete her look."
"You've always wanted me, haven't you?" she murmured to him. "Not her. ME."
"Yeah," Felix groaned. "God, yeah."
"Prove it."
He flipped her onto her back in one quick motion and drove into her harder.
"You're even better than I imagined."
Quinn gasped, loud enough to make sure I heard every word.
"Bet she wouldn't even know what to do with you."
Felix just went harder.
My phone slipped out of my hand and hit the ground with a crack.
Felix's head whipped toward the sound.
His eyes locked on mine.
He stopped... for maybe half a second. His body went rigid.
"Don't you dare stop," Quinn hissed, digging her nails into his shoulders.
His face twisted—guilt, maybe. Or something close to it.
And then...
He kept going.
Like his body wouldn't let him quit.
She pulled him deeper, moaning like she'd won some kind of prize.
"I'm close," Felix grunted. "Fuck... Quinn..."
"Do it," she whispered. "Right now."
His whole body went tense.
And for one horrible, crystal-clear moment, his expression cracked wide open.
Pleasure mixed with shame, tangled up so tight you couldn't separate them.
His lips moved. "I'm sorry."
Then his hips jerked forward one last time.
And he finished.
Right there.
While staring straight at me.
I stood there, frozen, while my boyfriend came inside my best friend with an apology still hanging in the air between us.
Chapter 2
[Off Limits]
Elowen's Pov
"Elowen—wait—"
Felix scrambled backward, nearly losing balance.
His expression drained of color.
"Christ—I assumed you'd still be on the call—"
Quinn's laughter rang out. "So you were racing the clock?"
Genuine amusement colored her voice. "How considerate."
Felix whipped toward her.
"Stop talking, Quinn."
My respiratory system malfunctioned.
Felix transcended casual dating.
He'd been Milo's closest friend for ten years—since we parked our decrepit trailer beside his family's property.
A decade of watching him arrive for Milo while I nursed impossible feelings.
Six months ago, he finally confessed mutual attraction.
And Quinn possessed every detail.
Yet proceeded anyway.
Felix yanked his pants up frantically.
"This looks terrible, but it's not—"
"There's a used condom literally attached to you!"
My scream tore through my throat.
Everything burned—vocal cords, tear ducts, chest cavity.
Quinn slid off the furniture, adjusting her clothing like this was mildly inconvenient.
"Jesus." Heavy sigh. "Such theatrics."
I couldn't process her reaction.
"You had sex with my boyfriend!"
She rubbed her forehead. "Maybe I had too much to drink."
"You're... you're seriously gonna deny this? Blame it on being drunk?"
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks.
She gave this lazy shrug. "Honestly? I did you a favor."
She paused. "You almost gave yourself to a guy who clearly wanted someone else. Didn't you?"
"Elowen, listen—" Felix attempted approach.
I recoiled sharply. "Wait."
My stomach plummeted, eyes locked on Quinn.
"You specifically assigned Felix and me the east guesthouse."
"You calculated I'd arrive precisely then... Did you orchestrate this for an audience?"
Quinn's eye roll suggested maximum exasperation.
"I was drunk, Elowen. Stop making up some big conspiracy theory."
"That's not justification!" Quinn released an exhausted groan.
"God, you're so exhausting. It was meaningless physical activity."
There it was.
That dismissive tone.
Positioning me as unreasonable.
"He's in a relationship with ME!"
Quinn folded her arms deliberately. "And?"
I couldn't breathe for a second.
I actually wondered if I'd just imagined what she said.
"We're supposed to be best friends."
Quinn's shrug was elegant. "What explanation satisfies you? Men consistently prefer me."
Nausea crashed through me.
"You're supposed to have boundaries."
My voice splintered. "He should've been completely off-limits!"
She advanced deliberately, cold cruelty surfacing in her gaze.
"I'm Quinn Lockwood. Nothing—and nobody—exists beyond MY reach."
Something inside me shattered completely.
I shoved her.
Hard.
"You know society's term for women like you?"
I held her stare. "Women who'll sleep with anyone remotely interested?"
"Whore."
Her eyes instantly went arctic.
"You're standing on MY property," she hissed.
"Attending MY celebration."
"Your existence continues because I permit it."
Your brother survives because MY family finances it."
"Choose your next words extremely carefully."
I stepped forward until our faces nearly touched.
"GO. TO. HELL."
I spun and fled before total disintegration.
"Elowen, stop—"
Felix's voice chased me. I accelerated.
That space contained poison. The atmosphere itself felt contaminated.
I walked fast. Then faster.
Everything scorched—vision, throat, ribcage.
Escaping that room. Fleeing the images seared into memory. Through corridors. Out rear exits.
Following stone pathways away from celebration sounds.
Music faded into distance.
I desperately needed space. Oxygen. Anything except them.
I didn't stop until collision.
Impact against solid door.
Damn!
I looked up.
Everything inside me froze.
[PRIVATE ACCESS]
[Alistair Lockwood]
Oh god.
No no no no.
My heart didn't sink—it went into complete free fall. Stomach followed.
Lungs next.
Total internal collapse.
[PRIVATE ACCESS: Alistair Lockwood]
Engraved right there.
Quinn's father's restricted penthouse.
The absolutely forbidden zone.
It shouldn't be unlocked. But was.
I don't recall deciding entry. My body simply moved.
Suddenly I'd crossed the threshold.
Tears flowing. Heart hammering. Skin feverish.
I should reverse course.
I understood that intellectually.
But my mind still replayed what I'd witnessed—and my legs had different priorities.
They carried me up seemingly endless stairs, into a space constructed from glass and dark timber and silence that screamed extreme wealth.
Returning wasn't possible.
Departing this island required Quinn's yacht.
And she'd confirmed Mr. Lockwood's absence, so…
I just needed somewhere to collapse.
My feet continued moving.
Through the living space.
Toward the glass wall opening onto an expansive terrace.
Doors stood open.
Ocean wind pouring through.
And there—positioned on the outdoor table like destiny—a wine bottle.
French label, probably worth more than my entire year's expenses.
I didn't hesitate.
Grabbed it. Twisted the cork free.
Drank directly from the bottle, liquid burning down my throat.
Fuck Quinn.
Fuck Felix.
Fuck everyone.
Fuck my parents for abandoning us.
Fuck the drunk driver who destroyed Milo's mobility.
Fuck me for trusting anyone ever.
Fuck me for remaining this naive!!
I paced back and forth on the terrace, wine sloshing in the bottle with every step.
Why do I always let her get away with this?
But then the guilt kicked in.
Remember that winter when the storm nearly collapsed your trailer?
She opened up one of their guest houses.
Let you and Milo crash there as long as you needed.
When Milo's hospital bills skyrocketed after the crash, the Lockwood Foundation took care of everything.
Without her, college would've stayed a fantasy.
Without her, my brother wouldn't be walking.
I owe Quinn Lockwood everything.
I remind myself of that every single time she tears me apart.
But how many times does someone get to rip your heart out before you're allowed to hit back?
I'm human too, aren't I?
A splash cut through my spiraling thoughts.
I stopped mid-step.
Bottle frozen halfway to my mouth.
I should get out of here before whoever's down there spots me lurking like some creep.
But my feet didn't listen.
They moved toward the sound instead, pulled by something I couldn't name.
The terrace overlooked an infinity pool that seemed to melt right into the ocean.
And there, slicing through the water—
Alistair Lockwood.
Wait.
Quinn said he wasn't here. Said he was traveling.
He surfaced, water streaming down his shoulders, and even from this distance I could see every line of muscle, every deliberate movement.
God.
No.
"Hot" didn't cover it.
Dark hair slicked back.
A jaw that could cut glass.
The same sharp features I'd seen in magazine photos—but those photos lied. They softened him. Stripped away whatever dangerous thing this was.
Because this?
This was something else entirely.
Breathe, Elowen.
He reached the pool's edge and hauled himself out in one fluid motion.
Reached for a glass sitting nearby and took a slow sip.
My eyes dropped to the bottle in my hand.
His wine.
I was drinking HIS wine.
My throat went dry.
Water traced lazy lines down his chest, over ridges of muscle, disappearing into the waistband of his swim shorts.
Now I understood why every woman wanted him.
"My father's off-limits. Especially to you."
Quinn's words echoed in my head, and I almost laughed out loud.
Because suddenly... I didn't give a damn.
Not about Quinn Lockwood.
Not about her rules.
If nothing I owned had ever been sacred to her... why should anything of hers be sacred to me?
My gaze climbed back up—and locked with his.
Shit.
He caught me staring!
But he didn't look away.
Everything stopped. Even my breathing.
His expression was stone-cold, like he was one second from doing something I'd regret forever.
I should run.
Right now.
Instead, I lifted the bottle and took another long drink.
What the hell are you doing, Elowen??
Liquid courage.
Then I moved.
Down the steps. Across the deck.
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched. Waiting.
I stopped close—close enough to see droplets still clinging to his skin, pooling in the hollow of his throat.
And his eyes... up close they weren't just blue.
They were layered.
Storm-blue mixed with ice, sharp enough to cut.
His mouth curved slightly.
Not quite a smirk. More like a threat.
"You've got about ten seconds, little girl," his voice came out low, dangerous.
"To give me one good reason I shouldn't have security haul you off my island in handcuffs."
A pause.
"—And I'd think real carefully if I were you."
And somehow... through all the rage, humiliation, and wine buzzing in my veins...
The thought surfaced anyway.
Dark. Reckless. Wrong.
What if Quinn's father isn't actually off-limits?
Chapter 3
[Stripped For My Best Friend’s Dad]
Elowen's Pov
His gaze raked across my features.
I'd pictured this moment countless times—meeting Alistair Lockwood, expressing gratitude for everything his foundation provided Milo and me.
Now he stood before me, and every prepared word evaporated.
"Spare me the innocent act with those weird eyes. I've dealt with your type."
My type?
Whatever that meant.
I'd certainly never encountered anyone like him.
Though I'd heard rumors.
"Alistair Lockwood is pure evil."
"You either desire him or dread him. No middle ground."
I blinked slowly at him. Deliberately provocative.
They're unusual. One emerald.
One sapphire. Heterochromia.
Medical professionals called it exceptional.
Classmates called it disturbing.
Quinn called it "intriguing" when she first decided I was worth her time.
I've never mastered this. Seduction. Manipulation. Playing these games.
Felix was my only serious relationship—clumsy encounters.
That's my entire romantic history.
But right now?
Something feels reckless.
Unmoored.
Like some internal wire snapped and I stopped caring about consequences.
My fingers hooked the hem of my dress and pulled up, slipping it off, letting the fabric pool at my feet.
Alistair went completely motionless.
His attention descended. Methodically.
Consuming every inch like he possessed unlimited time to dismantle me with his stare.
His pupils expanded until barely any blue remained visible.
Standing there in black lace, I'd never felt simultaneously more vulnerable and more powerful.
"What the hell are you attempting?" He ground out.
I entered the pool.
Water temperature was perfect, rising up my calves, waist, chest until I was submerged to my shoulders.
My pulse hammered audibly, but I didn't hesitate.
I moved toward him.
He remained stationary.
Simply observed like he was calculating me or determining my fate.
Up close, he was devastating.
Dangerous in subtle ways.
Wet hair swept back.
Sharp jawline shadowed with stubble.
His mouth was rough-edged, fuller below—the kind that looked incapable of losing control. Ever.
And those eyes that didn't blink normally.
"You've got audacity."
I raised my chin. "Seems like I'm overflowing with it tonight."
His gaze descended again, more deliberately.
"You're trespassing on MY territory."
"Feels like it's MINE currently."
He advanced.
Water displaced between us, and I sensed the heat emanating from him even through it.
"You genuinely don't comprehend who you're confronting."
"Alistair Lockwood," I said quietly. "A ruler."
His mouth barely shifted.
Not a smile. Just heightened focus.
I possessed Alistair Lockwood's complete attention now.
"You're not scared?"
He moved closer. Dangerously close.
"Here isolated on my property." He rasped softly. "Completely at my disposal."
My throat constricted.
Alistair Lockwood was the most influential man in the region...
He could destroy me effortlessly and nobody would question it.
Yet I advanced.
"What could you possibly do to me," I breathed, "that I wouldn't permit?"
One moment space existed between us.
The next, his hand wrapped my throat.
His thumb pressed against my pulse like he wanted to feel it betray me.
It pounded against his thumb.
"Careful," he murmured near my ear, his breath ghosting my skin.
"Do you comprehend what I'm capable of right now?"
The words penetrated my skin, twisted my stomach.
"You don't frighten me."
"You should be terrified."
"I'm not."
His grip intensified slightly. Not painful. Just possessive.
"Then what are you?"
"Furious." The word scraped out. "Devastated."
His thumb traced my jaw. That minimal contact inflicted more damage than the grip.
A tear escaped.
I despised it.
His thumb captured it and froze.
For a moment, something almost gentle flickered in his eyes. Then vanished.
His hand left my throat, shifting to my jaw and angling my face upward.
"Who deployed you?" he demanded, colder now. "Vincent?"
"I don't know that name."
His eyes searched mine. "Then how did you access this?"
"Do you want me gone?"
His body angled into mine.
One hand settled at my waist beneath the water—firm, commanding, like it belonged there.
"What do you want?" His voice roughened.
"Because my patience is evaporating. And I don't possess much."
The words escaped before I could prevent them.
"You."
His grip intensified on my jaw. "That's not an answer."
My heart hammered against his hand. "I want you to take me."
His eyes went dark. Not blue. Not cold. Just black.
"Your age?"
"Twenty one."
His jaw flexed violently. "Christ."
"I am completely legal."
"You're still too young."
"I don't care."
"You should."
I moved closer, pressing against him.
His body went rigid, like he was battling internal resistance.
I felt every solid plane. The wall of his chest. The tension coiled in his shoulders.
And lower.
Against my stomach, through the water, I felt him pulse.
Oh god... was that his—
"I want this."
"So you calculated what?" His voice dropped dangerously low.
"You'd infiltrate here, undress, and I'd just fuck you because you asked?"
I held his stare. "Yes."
His eyes burned into mine. "Why."
Because it's agony.
Because I need something—anything—to kill it.
"Because minutes ago," I said, voice fracturing, "my boyfriend was fucking my best friend."
His expression didn't shift, but his grip loosened fractionally.
"I witnessed it." The words scorched my throat. "They wanted an audience."
Another tear slipped. I hated it.
"So this is retaliation," he murmured, thumb catching it.
"No." I shook my head even though partly it was. "I want you because I want you."
I touched his chest, fingertips ghosting over the wet hair there.
His muscles contracted beneath my touch.
"You looked at me and didn't look away. Nobody does that."
"And what does that signify?"
"That I'm visible."
My finger traced his collarbone, and I felt his breath hitch.
"Make me forget. Please."
His hand slid into my hair, gripping enough to tilt my head back.
The pull sent heat directly between my legs.
"I'm not damage control, little girl."
He said roughly, and the nickname did something to me.
"I'm not a quick remedy. I'm the worst possible thing for you."
"Perfect." I leaned into him, flush against him.
"I'm already shattered," I whispered. "What's additional destruction?"
Oh.
That pulse against my stomach was... his cock, rigid and substantial, pressing into me.
My breath caught.
So that's what a man like him feels like.
His grip on my waist intensified, fingers digging into my skin.
Holy shit.
He desires me.
The ruthless mogul who terrorizes the city desires me.
Then he released me and retreated.
"Leave."
"No!"
His eyes darkened, pupils expanding to swallow the blue.
"This isn't negotiable."
"You want me." I advanced, eliminating the distance he'd created. "I felt it."
"What I want and what I take are separate things." Another retreat. "Exit my pool."
"If you want me gone, Alistair Lockwood..."
I closed the gap again, and his jaw clenched audibly.
"You'll have to force me."
That landed.
His expression went dark.
Dark in a way that made my thighs clench painfully.
And I realized I might've just pushed Alistair Lockwood past his limit.
