My Fiancé's Uncle is Obsessed With Me!

Emily

I finished college on a Tuesday.

On Thursday, I became someone's fiancée.

No one asked how I felt about either.

The email confirming my graduation sat unopened on my phone while my stepmother stood across the kitchen island, smoothing imaginary creases from her blouse, already talking about dates and guest lists and what the Carter family would expect from us.

"They want something small," she said. "Family only. At their home."

Of course it would be at their home.

The Carters didn't come to people. People went to them.

I stared into my bowl of cereal, watching the flakes soften and sink. Milk always turned first, like it had given up. I felt a strange kinship with it.

"You should at least look excited," my stepmother added lightly, from where she leaned against the counter. "You've just finished college and you're getting married. Some girls would kill for that."

I didn't look up.

Some girls weren't me.

"Emily," my father said gently. "Did you hear your mother?"

"I heard," I said. My voice sounded calm. Detached. It always did.

What I didn't say was that this engagement had been decided long before I learned how to fake enthusiasm. Long before college. Long before Nathan Carter ever looked at me with polite disinterest and called it courtesy.

This wasn't romance.

It was inheritance management.

Everyone knew it, even if no one said it out loud.

The only real surprise was that I was the one chosen.

Not Lily.

Lily, with her perfect smiles and careful laughter.

Lily, who knew how to touch Nathan's arm just long enough to suggest something without saying it. Lily, who had been raised by my stepmother to understand exactly what beauty was meant to do.

But Lily wasn't Robert Brown's biological daughter.

I was.

And to families like the Carters, blood mattered more than charm. Paper mattered more than desire. Emily Brown was the correct choice, even if she wasn't the preferred one.

That was why the engagement had to be with me.

Not my stepsister.

Not the girl Nathan actually looked at when he thought no one noticed.

Nathan and I didn't fight the decision. There was nothing to fight for. He tolerated me. I tolerated him. We understood the assignment.

So when my father cleared his throat later that afternoon and said the Carters had also suggested I spend the night after the engagement dinner, I wasn't shocked.

I was tired.

"It's improper," I said, because someone had to say it.

My stepmother gave a thin smile. "It's generous. And refusing would look ungrateful."

My father avoided my eyes. "They insist, Emily. They don't want you traveling late. Especially now."

Now that I belonged to them.

I nodded once. "Fine."

If I was going to be handed over like a sealed package, I might as well stop pretending I had fragile edges.

The Carter mansion looked exactly like I expected it to-large enough to intimidate, expensive enough to remind you you didn't belong. Stone walls. Black iron gates. A driveway that curved just long enough to make you feel small before you reached the front door.

Nathan opened it himself.

He kissed my cheek lightly, careful, like we were posing for a photo.

"You look nice," he said.

So did he. Perfectly styled. Perfectly distant.

"Thank you," I replied.

Inside, everything gleamed. Marble floors. Tall ceilings. Voices that stayed just below a certain volume, as if loud emotions were forbidden by the architecture.

This was family only, but family meant something different here. Aunts. Uncles. People who shared DNA and money and very little warmth.

I was adjusting the hem of my dress when I felt it.

That uncomfortable prickle at the back of my neck.

Being watched.

I lifted my head slowly.

He stood near the staircase, one hand resting on the banister like he owned it-which, judging by the way the room subtly oriented itself around him, he probably did.

He was older than Nathan, but not in a way that made him look worn. Just... solid. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. No forced smile.

He didn't look away when our gazes met.

Something in my chest tightened.

Nathan noticed my pause. "Oh," he said, following my line of sight. His jaw tightened slightly. "That's my uncle."

"Uncle?" I repeated.

"Yes. Adrian Carter."

The name landed heavier than it should have.

Adrian Carter inclined his head, just barely. Not a greeting. An acknowledgment.

I didn't know why, but my pulse picked up.

Dinner was unbearable in the way expensive things often were-beautiful, controlled, and suffocating.

I sat beside Nathan, smiling when required, answering questions about college, about my "plans," about when we might set a wedding date. I lied politely and often.

Across the table, Adrian Carter sat at the head.

He spoke less than everyone else, but when he did, the room listened. Conversations bent toward him like iron filings to a magnet.

I caught him watching me more than once.

Not openly. Not rudely.

Intentionally.

Each time I noticed, I looked away, pretending my interest was in my wine glass, my plate, the empty chair beside me, from when Nathan excused himself to take a call.

I hadn't realized how quiet the room could get until Adrian stood.

"I'd like to speak with Emily," he said calmly.

Not if he could. Just that he would.

My father nodded too quickly. Nathan wasn't back yet.

I rose, smoothing my dress, and followed Adrian through a side door and down a quiet hall. The sitting room we entered was smaller, darker, meant for privacy.

The door closed behind us.

The sound echoed louder than it should have.

For a moment, he said nothing. He simply looked at me-really looked.

"You don't want to marry my nephew," he said.

It wasn't a question.

My breath caught despite myself. "You don't know what I want."

"I do," he replied calmly. "Because if you wanted him, you'd be nervous. You'd be trying harder."

I crossed my arms. "That's none of your business."

A pause.

Then-almost a smile.

"In this family," Adrian Carter said softly, "everything is my business."

Something cold and electric slid down my spine.

I should have been offended. I should have been afraid.

Instead, I felt seen.

And that scared me more than anything else.

Emily

Adrian Carter's words stayed with me long after I left the sitting room.

They clung to my skin, to my thoughts, slipping under the careful numbness I'd perfected over the years. I tried to shake them off as I returned to the party, but it was like trying to forget a hand that had already closed around my wrist.

I didn't want Nathan.

I didn't want this marriage.

And somehow, Adrian knew.

I reached for a glass of champagne. Then another.

No one noticed. No one ever really did.

The alcohol warmed me quickly, loosening the tight coil in my chest. Conversations blurred into background noise-laughter, clinking glasses, polite congratulations. I smiled when required, nodded when spoken to, but my thoughts kept drifting back to dark eyes and a voice that didn't ask permission.

By the time the party began to thin out, I felt... light. Not drunk enough to lose myself, but enough that the edges softened. Enough that my body felt louder than my conscience.

When I finally excused myself, it was with a polite lie about being tired.

A housekeeper pointed me down a hallway. "Guest rooms are on the right," she said.

I nodded and walked-slowly, carefully, heels quiet against the carpet.

The door I chose looked like any other.

I didn't realize my mistake until I was already inside.

The room was darker than I expected. Larger. Masculine in a way the guest rooms weren't-deep colors, clean lines, a faint scent of cologne and something sharper beneath it.

I should have left.

Instead, I sat on the edge of the bed.

My head felt heavy. My thoughts slow and slippery. I told myself I'd rest for a minute and then find the correct room.

That was when the door opened.

I looked up.

Adrian stood there, jacket already off, sleeves rolled back, as if he'd been expecting to end his night alone-until he wasn't.

His gaze dropped to me.

The silence stretched.

"You're in the wrong room," he said.

"I know," I admitted. My voice sounded softer than usual. Less guarded.

He didn't move to leave. Didn't tell me to go.

Instead, he closed the door behind him.

The click echoed in my chest.

"You've been drinking," he observed.

"A little," I said. Then, because the truth felt lighter than usual, I added, "You made me nervous."

That did it.

Something changed in his expression-not surprise, but decision.

He crossed the room slowly, stopping a careful distance away. "Are you asking me to take responsibility for that?"

I swallowed. "No."

I stood, a little unsteady, and he reached out-not to touch me, but to steady me. His hands hovered, giving me time. Choice.

I didn't step away.

That was when his fingers finally closed around my arm.

Warm. Firm. Controlled.

"You should leave," he said quietly.

"I know," I replied.

Neither of us moved.

Then his lips were on mine.

He kissed me like he'd been waiting.

Not rushed. Not desperate.

Claiming.

His hand slid to my waist, grounding me, anchoring me as the world tilted. I kissed him back without thinking, without planning-my body responding before my mind could catch up.

I was drunk enough to be honest. Sober enough to know exactly who I was kissing.

Adrian pulled back just enough to look at me.

"This doesn't happen if you don't want it to," he said.

I nodded. "I want it."

That was all it took.

His lips were back on mine. Deeper now, more aggressive, like he wanted to swallow me whole.

I responded as much as I could, moans slipping out of me before I could control them.

I clamped my mouth shut trying to stifle the moans, my knees going weak as I collapse onto the bed, his mouth traced down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin.

That would definitely leave marks, but I was too overwhelmed to worry about that.

His eyes moved slowly towards my hands covering my mouth.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Curiousity and something else...fear maybe, flicking through his eyes.

"There are people in the house" I replied, expecting him to get it. But he didn't.

"And?"

"They'll hear us."

He smiled, relief spreading across his face as he buried his face in my neck.

"I thought you changed your mind." he said, his hand moving along my back to unzip my dress, eyes locked into mine.

I place a kiss on his lips.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but I'm being so bold right now. This is so unlike me, but unshackle myself once in a while right?

"I didn't" I reply, dropping my arms and letting the dress fall down to my waist.

It was an armless gown and I didn't wear a bra underneath.

His gaze moved over me slowly, as if committing each part of me to memory. The desire and hunger in his eyes made my proud of myself in a way I'd never been.

It made me feel beautiful.

I stood up gently, letting the dress fall to the ground and kicking my heels away.

His eyes roamed over my body as he took me in, his desire for me burning in his eyes.

I loved it, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world made my heart race.

"We still have to be quiet" I reminded him as he took my hand in his and guided us back to the bed.

"Don't worry, this room has enough soundproofing" there was pride in his voice "you can scream as much as you'd like."

I flushed, my heart racing as he laid me back against the bed, his lips all over me again, this time harder and faster like he couldn't wait to taste every part of me.

My hands moved along his torso to undo the button on his shirt and I gasped at the feeling of his skin on my fingers.

He was fit. For an older man, I wasn't expecting much but he was muscular, his body packed with muscles in the right places, how could someone be this perfect?

My hands moved along his upper torso, fingers brushing him softly above his belt.

He flinched, his breath getting deeper as he grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head with one hand as he continued worshipping my body with kisses, his other hand tracing the lines around my breast, making me moan in anticipation.

I gasped as he took the breast in one hand, kneading it softly, his thumb rubbing my nipple in a way that made my toes curl, heat pooling in my belly. His mouth was on the other breast, bitting and sucking, his hand left mine, taking my other breast in it.

I screamed, my back arching forward as his tongue traced circles along my nipple.

His mouth left my breasts, tracing kisses down my belly. His hand stopped at the strap of my underwear and he looked up at me, his eyes begging for permission.

I nodded, once, and he smiled, the underwear gone in an instance.

"You're wet" his voice was tense, his breathing ragged, like he was trying to restrain himself.

His fingers moved along my inner thigh and I sucked in a breath, my eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Look at me" he commanded, his thumb tracing circles around me, my eyes flew open, insides twisting at the authority in his voice.

"Oh my God!" I sreamed, my body tensing as he slipped a finger into me, heat pooling low in my belly as I clung to him, my fingernails scratching into his back.

Another finger, and I came, screaming loudly as the heat rushed through me.

"Fuck" his voice was husky, eyes locked onto mine, "do you really want this? Can I?"

Why does he keep asking the same question?

I nodded.

His hands left me to unbuckle his belt and I watched as his pants came off, his eyes on mine as he took off his underwear.

I tensed, and he smirked, "don't worry it'll fit"

"It... it's my first time," I stammered, how am I supposed to survive that thing.

"I know" he replied, "I'll be gentle"

He moved closer, and I instinctively moved back, my eyes locked on the weapon between his legs.

He grabs me, pulling me closer as he settles himself between my legs.

"I'll be gentle, I promise" he reassured, lips brushing against mine.

But I didn't believe, how gentle could you be with that thing.

The kiss deepened and I felt myself melt in his arms, the tension leaving my body slowly.

His mouth left mine as his hands slipped between us, his eyes locked on mine as though reassuring me.

I winced as I felt him enter me.

He tensed, his eyes on me.

"Continue" I said, my teeth gritting in pain.

Another thrust and I cried out, tears pooling in my eyes, he paused, holding me in his arms as he soothed me.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm ok, is it all in?"

"This will do for now" he replied, "you can't take more "

I wanted to protest, but he shut me off with a kiss, withdrawing a bit and thrusting back in as slowly as he could.

The rest of the night unfolded in fragments. I don't know how many times we did it or how long we spent, but I loved every bit of it, his mouth tracing slow, deliberate paths; his hands learning me with patience that felt almost dangerous. He guided rather than took, watching my reactions like he was memorizing them.

I felt exposed in a way I never had before.

Desired without being dismissed.

Wanted without being compared.

The quiet sound of my name on his lips. Time blurred. Thoughts dissolved.

By the time I finally slept, it was with his presence wrapped around me, warmth enveloping me in a way that made me feel protected.

Emily

The sunlight hit my eyes first. Then, slowly, the reality of the night before came into focus.

I was naked. Not under a blanket, not half-covered. Naked. On my side of the bed. With Adrian Carter's arm draped across me.

I froze for a moment, holding my breath, expecting panic or shame to hit. It didn't. Not exactly. Not like I thought it would.

Instead, a surprising calm spread through me, like the kind you feel after surviving a storm.

I hadn't regretted it.

Not a single bit.

My mind had finally caught up to my body, the alcohol having worn off enough for clarity. I could remember everything-his hands, his voice, the way he moved over me-and even now, thinking about it made my pulse flutter and my stomach ache with a kind of familiar longing.

But calm came next, along with worry.

Consequences.

Not because I was ashamed-though I wasn't proud, either-but because we lived in a world where everything had repercussions. The Browns, the Carters, Nathan... the mess we could create if anyone found out.

I rolled carefully, careful not to wake him, and studied him. Adrian slept like he owned the world. Broad shoulders, the faint rise and fall of muscle beneath smooth skin. Dark hair falling across his forehead. Even in sleep, he radiated control. Command. Power.

And yet... last night he had been gentle. Careful.

I swallowed, sitting up slowly and wrapping the sheet around me, covering the barest hint of skin.

"Adrian," I said quietly, testing my voice.

He stirred, eyes half-lidded, just enough for me to see that sharp intelligence.

"Morning," he murmured, voice low, smooth, and... commanding, even now.

I didn't respond immediately. I couldn't. The way he looked at me-like he already owned this moment, like he had claimed me and didn't even need to touch me to prove it-made heat pool low in my stomach.

Focus, Emily. Focus.

"Last night..." I started. My voice steadied. "We need to talk."

He opened his eyes fully, sitting up slowly, revealing the hard definition of his chest and shoulders. I tried not to stare, tried to remind myself that we had to be rational now, that this was a mistake with consequences. But his gaze... it pinned me in place. Dark, intense, unwavering.

"What about it?" he asked, voice calm but heavy with intent.

I took a deep breath. "We need... rules. Boundaries. What happens in here stays in here."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You mean... you don't want the world to know are mine?"

"I mean," I clarified, cheeks warming, "I don't want anyone else involved. I want you to be considerate. And... I'm not... yours. I'm engaged to your nephew!"

He tilted his head, watching me like I was entertaining him. "Not mine?" His voice dropped lower, thick with amusement and something else-something possessive. "Emily..."

"Yes," I said quickly, trying to maintain my composure. "I'm level-headed now. I know what we did. But if anyone finds out, there will be consequences for both of us."

Adrian leaned back, stretching, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing with the movement. He looked at me with a slow, deliberate gaze, like he was deciding how much of me he could take right now and how much he wanted to wait for.

"Consequences?" he repeated softly, and the edge in his voice made me shiver. "I don't care about consequences."

I blinked. "What?"

"I said," he leaned forward, resting one hand on the bed near me, keeping me pinned by the weight of his presence, "you're mine now. My woman. And I don't intend to let you go."

I froze. Not with fear. Not with shame. But with shock.

"Yours? Adrian, we-" My voice caught. "We can't-"

"I said, you're mine," he repeated, flatly, almost casually, like he was stating the weather. "And if anyone-anyone-tries to take you away or interfere, I will make sure they regret it."

My stomach dropped.

He's crazy. How can he say that so easily when I just had my engagement party with his nephew?

Well, I'm also in bed with him so maybe I'm also crazy. But I can sort this out. I always did.

"So...wait-wait a second," I said, trying to gather my thoughts. "You want me to-what? Be... with you?"

He leaned back slightly, eyes dark, commanding. "I'll marry you."

The words hit me like a slap.

It's confirmed.

He's crazy.

I almost laughed, almost cried, almost shouted. "Excuse me? Adrian... I'm engaged. To Nathan. Your nephew!"

He smirked, unbothered, almost amused by my objection. "And?"

"And... and that matters. It's... I mean..." I stammered, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "I can't. We... you can't just-"

"I just did," he interrupted. His voice was calm, even teasing, but carrying that weight-that command. "You're mine. I will marry you. And if you refuse, Emily..." His eyes glinted, sharp, almost predatory. "...I will tell everyone everything that happened last night."

My stomach lurched. My pulse raced. The consequences I had tried so hard to avoid were suddenly all too real.

Was he being serious right now?

He's also involved, isn't he worried about his reputation?

"Wait," I said, my voice firmer now, trying to regain control, "we can't...get married."

"Why?" His tone was harsh "You'll risk ruining your reputation for Nathan?"

I sighed. "It's not that. It's just... I'm not ready to get married. But, I can be... with you. If you promise to keep it secret."

He leaned closer, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. He studied me, not like someone making a deal, but like someone who had already won.

"And why," he asked softly, dangerously, "would I ever want to keep it a secret?"

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain control. "Because... because I don't want anyone else involved. I don't want to complicate things. I want you to... be considerate."

He smiled slowly, predatory but amused, and leaned back. "Considerate. That's... cute. Fine. We keep it secret. For now."

"For now," I repeated, feeling the word like a shield. I swallowed the lump of desire and fear in my throat and tried to draw a line.

He'd probably get bored of me in a few days and I have my peace again.

I sighed in relief, it was a win-win.

He chuckled softly, a sound that made my pulse spike. "You really think this will last as just a relationship?"

"I... I hope you get over me soon," I admitted, trying to sound casual.

He tilted his head, eyes glinting with something like amusement mixed with obsession. "Oh, Emily," he said softly, almost reverently, "you think I could get over you?"

I looked away, gripping the sheet around me. I was still level-headed. I had to be. I had to keep some control.

But deep down, I already knew the truth: Adrian Carter didn't do compromise. He didn't do letting go. And I had already lost - terrifyingly, myself-to him.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against mine. His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me in place with gentle yet unyielding strength.

"Ok, let's keep it between us. For now," he murmured, lips brushing against mine in a whisper. "But don't fool yourself. You'll never be just temporary to me."

I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the weight of his gaze wash over me. I didn't regret last night. I didn't regret him.

But now I had to survive this. Navigate it. Control it-or try to.

"And if you break this," I said softly, opening my eyes, meeting his, "I'll... I'll make sure there are consequences."

His laugh was low and throaty. "I doubt you will. Because you're mine, Emily. And now, everyone else can just deal with it."

I pressed my lips together, swallowing the surge of desire and fear. I nodded once.

Fine, I thought. A secret relationship. For now.

But even as I said it, part of me knew the line I thought I was drawing between us didn't exist anymore. Adrian Carter didn't do compromise.

He didn't do letting go.

And I had already surrendered.