In Love with my Mother's Sister

Jason Williams wasn't easily shaken. He had spent years building an empire, perfecting the art of control-over his business, his emotions, and his entire existence. Yet, in a single moment, everything inside him tilted.

It started with a presence.

He wasn't the kind of man who believed in fate, but something in the air shifted, sending a slow, tingling awareness down his spine. He had felt this before-an instinct honed by years of navigating ruthless corporate deals and power-hungry executives. It was the feeling of being watched.

His hand tightened around his glass of bourbon as he turned his head slightly, scanning the room. The bar was dimly lit, the atmosphere buzzing with quiet conversations and the clink of expensive glasses. Then, his gaze landed on her.

A woman sat at the far end of the bar, poised yet effortlessly relaxed, as if she owned the space around her. A half-filled glass of red wine rested between her fingers, and the deep green dress she wore clung to her body like liquid silk. It was elegant, seductive-but not in an obvious way. She didn't need to demand attention. She simply commanded it.

Jason had seen beautiful women before. They were drawn to him, some for his wealth, others for the challenge of taming him. But this woman... she wasn't like them.

She wasn't looking at him the way most did-there was no wide-eyed admiration, no nervous anticipation, no calculated seduction. Instead, her gaze was cool, assessing. Knowing.

As if she had already figured him out.

As if she was waiting for him to do the same.

A slow smirk touched her lips, just enough to be intriguing. Then, with effortless grace, she lifted her glass toward him in a silent toast before taking a slow sip.

Jason's breath hitched. A strange, unsettling heat curled in his chest.

Damn it.

He had spent years mastering control, yet in that single moment, he felt completely undone.

Without thinking, without hesitating, he stood. His movements were smooth, calculated-everything about him screamed composure, power, dominance. He had spent years in boardrooms, negotiating billion-dollar deals, facing men twice his age who underestimated him. This was no different.

Or so he thought.

She didn't flinch as he approached. Didn't shift in her seat or lower her gaze. She was waiting.

Jason slid onto the stool beside her, resting his elbow against the polished bar counter. He was close enough to catch the faint scent of something intoxicating-jasmine, maybe, laced with something darker, richer.

"Was that a challenge," he asked smoothly, tilting his glass toward her, "or an invitation?"

She turned her head slightly, those sharp green eyes studying him with quiet amusement. "Maybe a bit of both," she mused, setting her wine glass down gently.

Her voice was low, sultry, with an edge he couldn't quite place. It sent an uninvited shiver through him.

Jason arched a brow. "Dangerous game to play with a stranger."

She tilted her head. "Are we strangers?"

His pulse kicked harder.

There was something about the way she said it-like she wasn't just talking about this moment, but about something... more. Something just out of reach.

Jason studied her closely, searching for familiarity in the delicate curve of her collarbone, the way her fingers traced the rim of her glass absentmindedly. She wasn't nervous. She wasn't playing coy.

She was in complete control.

He smirked, lifting his bourbon to his lips. "You have me at a disadvantage," he admitted. "You seem to know me, but I don't know you."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, smooth as silk.

"Maybe that's the fun part."

Jason exhaled a quiet laugh, but inside, something in his instincts warned him to be careful.

This wasn't normal.

This wasn't *safe.*

"Then at least tell me your name," he pressed.

She leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Olivia."

The name rolled off her tongue like honey-sweet, but with something dangerously potent lurking beneath.

Jason repeated it in his mind. *Olivia.* It suited her. Mysterious. Enigmatic. Unreadable.

He wanted more.

"You're not from around here," he observed.

She took another sip of her wine. "Neither are you."

He smirked, accepting the game. "Fair enough. But I think I would've remembered meeting you before."

Another small, knowing smile played on her lips.

"Maybe," she murmured. "Or maybe you just weren't ready to see me."

The words landed heavier than they should have.

For a moment, Jason felt like the ground beneath him wasn't entirely solid. Like she had pulled something from his past and placed it right in front of him, daring him to recognize it.

Who the hell was she?

He wanted to ask. Needed to. But before he could speak, a soft chime echoed from her phone.

Olivia glanced at the screen. Whatever she saw, it didn't change her expression. Cool. Controlled. As if she had expected it.

Then, with the same effortless grace, she set the phone face down on the bar and stood.

Jason straightened slightly. "Already?"

She reached for her clutch, turning toward him one last time. Those emerald-green eyes locked onto his, and for a split second, he swore she was reading him like an open book.

"We'll meet again, Jason."

His breath caught.

*She knew his name.*

His entire body went rigid.

He never told her his name.

Jason's mind reeled, colliding with questions he had no answers for. Had they met before? Was she someone from his past? A business rival? A socialite who had studied him?

Before he could demand answers, Olivia had already disappeared into the crowd.

Jason turned, scanning the bar.

She was gone.

For a long moment, he just sat there, his fingers tightening around his glass.

Something was wrong.

Something about her felt... inevitable.

And for the first time in his life, Jason Williams had the unsettling feeling that he had just stepped into something he didn't understand.

A game where Olivia held all the cards.

And he had just become her next move.