I Slept With My Fiancé’s Uncle

The distant Alps wore a crown of snow, and the fir trees stood like soldiers on parade. But inside, the air was thick with tension and chaos.

Simone Brooks rolled out of bed, snatched the slip dress off the floor, and slipped it on. She padded to an old wooden table and plucked a cigarette from the man's pack, turning it over in her fingers. "This stash any good?"

The man's voice came out like velvet, huskier than usual, and all the more seductive. "Why don't you try and see?"

Simone hesitated, then shook her head.

He lay on his side, propping his head in one hand, a towel wrapped low on his waist and his toned body on display. His brows lifted with lazy arrogance. "Scared?"

Simone nodded, placing the cigarette back. "Terrified I'd get hooked. Cigarettes aren't cheap."

He gave a low, mocking chuckle. "Weren't you scared of getting hooked on me?"

Simone chewed on the thought for a beat, then grinned. "I was. But you don't cost a thing."

The man held his easy posture, but his smile slowly faded, replaced by a probing look that carried a quiet edge. "You've got a lot of nerve playing games with me, Simone."

A knot of anxiety twisted in her gut, laced with guilt—he was Houston Martinez, her fiancé Phoenix Robinson's uncle after all.

Phoenix...

Her smile vanished, and a rare seriousness settled over her face. "Let me ask you something. You knew all along that Phoenix and his mom aren't actually blood-related?"

Houston seemed to have seen the question coming. His expression didn't flicker. "Of course. I'm a Martinez. She's a Miller."

In the suffocating silence that followed, Simone's voice came quiet. "I always thought they were mother and son, but I walked in on them..."

Just the memory brought tears to her eyes, but she battled them back in front of Houston, nothing but a sniff escaping. "Please don't tell me you think it's normal for Phoenix to be making out and sleeping with a woman old enough to be his mother. Stepmother or not."

Houston didn't answer right away. After a pause, he asked, "Is that why you came to see me?"

Simone neither denied nor confirmed it, sidestepping the question entirely. "Just answer me first."

Impatience sharpened her tone. She was hungry for an explanation from Houston, but he clearly had no interest in feeding her. "I'm just his uncle. His business is none of mine, and I don't give a damn. As for who he sleeps with, everybody's got their kinks. Don't you have a thing for older guys yourself?"

The implication was obvious: if Phoenix had a thing for older women, that was nothing out of the ordinary.

Simone let out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping. But she pulled herself together quickly, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. "I'm not into younger guys. I'm into you."

"Hah." Houston had zero desire to waste time on someone irrelevant. Unfazed, he delivered a clean dismissal. "Take my car for a spin. Catch the morning flight back. Leave the car at the airport—I'll have someone pick it up."

Simone's face tightened. "You're kicking me out?"

Houston raised a brow, unbothered. "Got a problem with that? This isn't where you belong, and I'm not some plaything you can toy with."

His voice was low and commanding, laced with a threat that sent a shiver rippling down her spine despite the calm delivery.

"Why didn't you say all that before we hooked up? Now you're just being an ass." Her voice dropped to a mutter on the last two words, but he caught them all the same.

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her gaze up. "Don't use me as your revenge tool. Or else."

Just the narrowing of his eyes made her tremble involuntarily.

"Or else what?"

A cold laugh. "Try it and find out."