Peter Weber came into my life when I was rebelling and on a path of destruction. My life collapsed a few months before my eighteenth birthday. Back then, I had thought my life over, and the only thing I had was my love for coding and the boundless opportunities the dark world web presented to me.

My life didn’t fall apart slowly. It simply shook the very foundation of my being by taking everything I had, everything I held dear, in one blasted tragedy. My wife of five months was pronounced dead thirty minutes after giving birth. My daughter, Penny, a stillborn. In a heartbeat, they were taken away as if their lives had meant nothing. We married because of accidental pregnancy, but I loved her either way, so it mattered little to me. After a month of having her in my life, I had cemented my fate, never wanting to leave her side. But fate had bigger plans that didn’t include them.

Shocked and forsaken, I felt the entire world crumble upon me in one swooping fit of madness.

Had I been cautious and not gotten her pregnant, she’d have been alive. I murdered her. I killed them both. How could I forgive myself? How could I even fathom living knowing I destroyed their lives? I was in shambles, left with nothing, with nothing to go on. Therefore, I locked myself out of the world, drowning myself into a stupor while I spent most of my time doing what I enjoyed the most—hacking and wreaking havoc wherever possible. All the pain, all the helplessness I felt was channeled into something profound. It changed me. It altered my view of reality. Behind the screen, I felt powerful, untouchable, and very much in control of what was to take place. The pure unadulterated joy that possessed your mind, your body when you were about to key the enter button, knowing that a meltdown was about to take place—I reveled in that adrenaline-charged feeling by taking down companies just because I could. I enjoyed causing panic and sending people into a tailspin. It was the only sensation that made me feel alive. Weak folks sought drugs; I pursued a sophisticated remedy, one that transformed the society, one that shaped the world’s stock markets.

Then one day, someone knocked at my dingy apartment door in Melbourne, altering my life forever.

The famous computer genius Peter Weber was right on my doorstep, clearly not amused I hacked into their system less than three days ago and almost succeeded in taking it down, too.

That happened almost ten years ago, and yet, I could recall every single detail of that life-changing meeting. I was too entrenched in my own pain to figure out my life. Had it not been for Peter proposing a job, I didn’t know what would’ve been made of me. I was eternally grateful that instead of alerting the Australian Federal Police, he offered his help. He undertook a reckless teenager who was bent on a mission—disruption.

Peter became this constant, encouraging figure, motivating me, continually trying to draw me out of my shell, and guiding me in honing my skills for the better good. He presented a path to me, a new purpose—evolving technology as we pushed for the impossible, reaching new heights, leading a new era of technology-oriented evolution. And in less than a year, I thrived under his thumb because of his unyielding faith in me. He believed even though I had no hope left. He became my mentor as well as the father I never had.

I owed him my life…and it was high time I repaid that debt.

Setting the tumbler down, I peered at the warm father and daughter interaction. Gisele was bidding him goodnight, and together, we both watched her gracefully strut away, turning in for the evening.

“My daughter’s exactly like her mother—well, with a little bit of myself, too.” Peter chuckled, his haggard face lighting up a fraction. “You two are equally matched. Wait and see, she’s perfect for you, son.”

If he only knew what his daughter and I agreed upon…but there was no need to enlighten the old man of our real understanding. As long as he was content and at ease, it was all I could hope for.

“While the world thinks you’re her guardian, you two can secretly build on the marriage until you’re both comfortable to announce it. I know you never planned on marrying again, so you have no idea how delighted it makes me that you’re ready to take care of Gisele.”

I snickered. “You knew I didn’t have the heart to decline a man’s dying wish.”

“That, too, but I believe you two will be good for each other. It also helps that I don’t have to worry about fortune hunters. They’ll be surrounding her like vultures. She’s a smart girl, but she’s also young and very naïve when it comes to a man’s manipulation. As much as I’d like to think the world’s changing, it’s not changing fast enough for Gisele. Our industry is packed with wolves and vultures. Without your protection, she’ll get trampled on…I fear someone will marry her only to take everything I’ve worked so hard for. This marriage solves everything.”

“I’m not one for business marriages, but I think Gisele and I will manage fine. But I also think you underestimate her. She’s a Weber. She’s your daughter, after all…She’ll learn how to swim with sharks, Peter.”

“I suppose you’re right. She’s just like her mother, and with you by her side, you two will be a force together.”

Gisele…bloody. Fuck. Needing to change my thoughts, I focused on the frail man. “How are you feeling? You’ve lost more weight.”

“I have two months left, three at most,” he informed me without remorse, without any feeling. He simply stated it like he was mouthing off the grocery list.

“Bloody hell.”

“Yes, there isn’t much time left. I’m glad everything is set before I die.”

I couldn’t imagine working on projects without brainstorming and arguing with Peter. He was the company’s life, and it was a demoralizing thought that I’d even try to fill his shoes.

There was so much to be done. The lawyers were busy drawing up contracts and wills. The death of the company’s founder and leader would surely affect the company’s brand. I prayed I would be enough to navigate it into a new chapter without having investors panicking and consumers losing faith.

“I haven’t announced my sickness yet, but I’m hearing David Burg began to spread rumors the other day.”

David Burg. To this day, it baffled me how he was once a close friend of Peter. The man was heinous. “Are you going to make an announcement soon?”

“Next month. I want to enjoy having a little peace. David can be erratic. Watch out for him. He’s not really your biggest fan.”

“It’s time to rest, Mister Weber,” Nurse Anita announced.

I made a solemn nod. “Take care of the old man, will you, Anita?”

“Always, Mister St. James.” She chuckled.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Peter.”

“Weddings, what fun!” He exclaimed before he shooed me away.

I entered my bedroom and noted that the sheets were gone. The bed was stripped bare without even a pillow in sight. “I’m not amused, Thomas,” I muttered under my breath.

Moving into this house when I had one in Pacific Heights was madness. But as Peter pointed out, it was minutes away from work, and he’d rather not want Gisele to be living in this massive house all by herself. Sure, she’d have Thomas, security on the grounds, and the help, but she’d basically be alone.

Apart from my mother, I didn’t really have anyone else. As a result, I understood what being alone meant. My mother brought me up on her own since her family had long abandoned her after getting pregnant at such a young age. As did my father since he realized being with her entailed having to give up the fun partying lifestyle, and he wouldn’t have that. Therefore, he, too, left.

I let out a groan as I raked a hand through my hair before stepping into the scalding hot spray of water.

It was frustrating enough to be dealing with work, the legalities of the impending transition of power, and Peter’s terminal illness. Gisele Weber was another problem altogether.

The woman liked to rouse me.

She could switch from demure to a sizzling nymph in the blink of an eye. It was startling. But none of it mattered. I could handle her coquettish nature. Sure, she was utterly gorgeous, but I would never touch her. She was too young for my own liking. Her attempts would go unrewarded.

Rose, on the other hand…was more than enough to cater to my passionate appetite.

Instead of heading back to work, I should’ve seen her today. It would’ve been nice to alleviate all this bound stress in that tight, willing body of hers. It had been five days since I had sex. I was beginning to feel the effect of the unplanned sacrifice was doing to me.

So, when I saw Gisele’s naked body earlier, I almost lost it. Almost. She might be pregnant, but that didn’t deter my manhood from responding to her. My cock did an involuntary twitch, recalling that moment my eyes caught sight of her almost perfect cunt. Her bare kitty was the prettiest I’d ever seen. It looked untouched, unused, as if it hadn’t been broken in. But I knew better. She did her trysts secretly, resulting in her present state.

Instead of cowering behind embarrassment, the minx didn’t even have the audacity to shut her legs. She deliberately kept them apart, exposing me to that pretty little tight cunt of hers. Daring me to look, as if she wanted me to touch her—taste her.

Any man would lose it. Her body’s made for a sinner.

Those endless toned legs, long golden mane, stormy gray eyes, a smile that melted hearts, and with firm large tits that were made to be fondled and suckled... She was a bloody fucking sexpot, and it was mighty distracting.

I may be a lot of things, a wicked playboy being one of them who loved to indulge in debauchery, but I would never touch Gisele. Not only was she too young, but she was the kind a man married and respected. Not to be made into a mistress and have her brains fucked out of her. Apart from amazing sex, I had nothing else to offer her. My heart had shut off when the love of my life died.

Although I admitted the matter was rather tantalizing, but alas, my imagination should suffice. That was where I’d draw the line. It should remain in the deep gutters of my mind. I respected Peter too much to cross that sweet treacherous line. Gisele Weber was and always would be off limits. I had trained myself since the beginning not to sexually objectify her, and I wasn’t going to fail now.

Coming out of the shower, I casually walked into the closet. The marble felt cool under my feet as I paced, my eyes busy searching for something to wear. Thomas functioned efficiently, coordinating with my household staff the moment he learned I was to live here. The closet was filled with my color-coordinated clothes. Sleepwear situated at the very end, right next to a set of five drawers that were filled with go-to daily favorite Frigo no. 1 athletic black boxer-briefs. Under normal circumstances, I’d have favored sleeping naked, but I best get used to wearing something while living under Peter’s roof.

Grabbing navy blue Hermès woven boxer shorts, I put them on before running a quick hand over my wet hair. I took a deep breath then chastised myself to get a move on since tomorrow was a big day. Images of my wedding to Paige tried to surface, and it took every ounce of my will to push it out of my mind. Tomorrow, after the ceremony was concluded, maybe…maybe I’d let myself wallow and recall my late beautiful wife. But until then, I had to get a good grip on my emotions.

With my phone secured in hand, I strolled out of my bedroom and headed straight to the room across from mine. Without pausing to knock on the door, I simply let myself inside. I was immediately greeted with darkness. The only source of light came from a candle. It was situated across the room on a glass table, across from her comfortable white linen sofas. The fragrance infiltrated my nostrils, my senses. The scent was unusual—sweet, flowery, but foreign. What was it? I’d been with so many women that I’d likely know all the scents by now…but this particular one escaped me.

I took a few steps before I finally set my gaze on the sleeping form in the bed donning only a robe once again. Instead of Japanese silk, she chose a softer color, a pale blue. Gisele looked peaceful and utterly enchanting. Her long, wavy blonde hair framed her stunning face as she slept on her side. Her breasts pressed against each other, showing an ample view of her cleavage.

My cock jerked again. Behave, you savage fucker. My manhood began to painfully strain in my briefs. But I chose to ignore it as my hand grasped the end of the comforter and I grudgingly slid into bed.

I was on my back with my hands behind my head, blankly staring at the ceiling, loathing every second my body and mind clashed on what action to take next. My body implored to sheathe itself in her wetness, while my mind fought for much needed sleep.

“Mmm,” a soft, low moan escaped from the woman next to me.

My body stilled as I slowly twisted my head to the left, wondering if I had woken her. Her eyes remained closed; her soft pink full lips appeared to have parted. I watched in agony as she lightly bit into her bottom one, as if she was being pleasured.

She was dreaming…of Jack Yates.

Something feral emerged from my chest. It was violent, and it absolutely shocked me.

Bloody hell. It had to be due to the impending wedding tomorrow. It had to be. I mean, what else could it be? Any man would react in such a way. After all, she was to be my wife, even if she’d be a secret one. It didn’t bode well with me that I was sharing her bed while her dreams were filled with her getting fucked by another man.

My eyes acutely gazed at her. The candle’s reflection softly glowed on her skin. It had been forever since I was awestruck by a woman’s beauty. She didn’t need makeup or anything else to enhance her beauty. She simply was exquisite. True, I only dated the cream of the crop, one beautiful woman to the next. I’d had stunning, gorgeous, sexy, off the charts sex appeal, but never exquisite.

My heated eyes brushed about her delicate face, wondering if her being off-limits made her all the more alluring to me.

Unconsciously, my thumb rose to meet the bottom of her lip, softly tracing it. It felt soft, inviting…and deliciously forbidden.

Exquisite, the word floated again in my mind.

So, when my drastic gesture dawned on me, my thumb hastily detached from her lip as if scalded. After Paige’s death, kissing another woman was out of the question. And after nine years, the urge to suddenly taste Gisele’s luscious lips troubled me greatly.

It had to be the thought of her becoming my wife, even if in name only. It aroused something primitive in me.

This couldn’t go on, my mind raced. Something had to be done.

Tomorrow…I had to see Rose first thing in the morning, or I’d go bonkers. My cock needed to unload all the frustration Gisele stirred in me.