Trading My Ex For His Billionaire Uncle

Jocelyn walked out of the building's lobby. She pulled open the passenger door of the Porsche and slid into the leather seat.

As she buckled her seatbelt, something sharp dug into the side of her thigh. She shifted, her fingers brushing against the leather crevice. She pulled it out. It was a flashy, diamond-encrusted drop earring. Her blood ran ice cold. She recognized it instantly-it was Kiley's favorite piece, the one she wore to every major event. The implication of why it was wedged deep in the passenger seat of Cam's car was a sickening slap to the face. She clenched her fist around the sharp metal, letting the physical pain ground her.

Cam immediately wrinkled his nose. "What is that smell?" he asked, looking disgusted. "You smell like men's cologne. Cedar."

Jocelyn kept her face blank. She rolled down the window. "It's my friend's perfume. It's strong."

Cam scoffed and put the car in drive. He didn't care enough to ask more.

The car merged into the heavy Manhattan traffic. The sky above them turned a bruised purple. Thick, black clouds rolled in. A thunderstorm was about to break.

Cam's phone rang. A specific, customized ringtone filled the car. Jocelyn's stomach churned. It was Kiley.

Cam answered it. His annoyed expression instantly melted into absolute panic. "Kiley? Baby, what's wrong? Your heart again?"

Cam slammed his foot on the brake.

The Porsche jerked to a violent stop on the side of the road. The seatbelt locked, digging painfully into Jocelyn's collarbone. She winced, rubbing her shoulder.

Cam didn't even look at her. He pointed at the door. "Get out. Kiley is sick. I have to go to her."

Jocelyn stared at him. She looked out the window. The first heavy drops of rain were already hitting the windshield. "We're in the middle of the industrial district. There are no cabs here."

"I don't care!" Cam yelled, his face twisting with rage. "You're so cold-blooded! Your sister is dying and you only care about yourself!"

He reached across her lap and shoved the passenger door open.

The freezing wind and rain instantly whipped into the car. Jocelyn looked at his pathetic, desperate face. The last tiny shred of warmth she had for him died right there.

She didn't argue. She unbuckled her seatbelt. She stepped out into a deep puddle of muddy water in her expensive heels. She slammed the door shut with all her strength.

The Porsche's engine roared. Cam floored the gas pedal. The tires spun, kicking up a massive wave of dirty water that splashed all over Jocelyn's legs and dress. The car disappeared down the street.

Jocelyn stood alone in the pouring rain. Her silk dress clung to her freezing skin. The cold sank straight into her bones.

She pulled her phone out of her purse with shaking hands. The screen flickered, flashed white, and went completely black. Water damage.

The rain fell harder, blinding her. A massive delivery truck sped past, the wind from it almost knocking her off her feet.

Jocelyn retreated under the narrow awning of a closed warehouse. Her lips were turning blue. A fiery, consuming hatred burned in her chest, keeping her standing.

She reached down to take off her heels, preparing to walk.

Suddenly, two blinding headlights pierced through the heavy rain. The beams hit her directly.

Jocelyn threw her hand up to shield her eyes. A black, top-of-the-line Rolls Royce Phantom pulled up smoothly, stopping just inches from the curb.

The rear window rolled down silently. Hayes's sharp, god-like profile appeared in the shadows of the backseat.

The driver quickly got out, popped open a large black umbrella, and opened the rear door for her. He bowed slightly.

Jocelyn looked at the dry, luxurious leather interior. She gritted her teeth. She climbed in, bringing the mud and the rain with her.

The door shut. The sound of the storm was instantly cut off. The warm air from the vents hit her freezing skin, making her shiver violently.

Hayes turned his head. He looked at her dripping hair and ruined dress. A dark, dangerous emotion flickered in his eyes.

He didn't ask what happened. He opened the storage compartment between them, pulled out a thick cashmere towel, and threw it directly over her head.

The towel covered her face. Jocelyn yanked it off. She glared at him, her pride refusing to let her say thank you.

"Take us back to The Penthouse," Hayes ordered the driver.

Jocelyn's head snapped up. "No. I have a family brunch to get to."

Hayes let out a cruel laugh. "You look like a drowned rat chasing a bone that isn't even yours."

The words sliced through her like a knife. Her eyes stung.

She lunged across the seat. She grabbed the lapels of his expensive suit, her muddy hands staining the fabric. She glared right into his eyes.

Hayes didn't flinch. He didn't push her away. His large hand came up and clamped around the back of her neck. He pulled her forward.

In the dim light of the car, their breaths tangled. Jocelyn's hatred and ambition fed off the intense scrutiny in his eyes. She didn't pull back. She let him look.