Trading My Ex For His Billionaire Uncle

Jocelyn pushed the heavy oak door of the lounge open just a fraction. The dim light from the wall sconce barely illuminated the room, but it was enough.

Her stomach dropped. The air vanished from her lungs.

Cam had Kiley pinned against the leather sofa. His hands were tangled in her blonde hair, his mouth moving aggressively against hers.

Kiley let out a soft, breathless moan. Cam chuckled, a dark, mocking sound that Jocelyn had heard a thousand times.

Jocelyn gripped the brass door handle. She squeezed it so hard her knuckles turned white. Her fingernails dug into her palms, the sharp pain grounding her as the room spun.

"I'll cancel the engagement," Cam murmured against Kiley's neck. "She's just a boring machine. All she knows is work."

A wave of nausea hit Jocelyn's throat. Her muscles coiled, screaming at her to push the door open and tear them apart.

Instead, she let out a slow, shaky breath. She took a half-step back.

The cold draft of the hallway hit her bare shoulders. She closed her eyes for two seconds. When she opened them, the vulnerability was completely gone. Her face settled into a mask of pure ice.

She turned away from the lounge. Her high heels sank into the thick carpet, making no sound as she walked toward the main banquet hall. Her mind raced, calculating every possible piece of leverage she had.

A waiter pushed the heavy double doors of the banquet hall open. The blinding light from the crystal chandeliers stabbed at her eyes. Jocelyn squinted, forcing her pupils to adjust.

The crowd naturally parted. Her gaze locked instantly on the man standing at the center of the room.

Hayes Cooper.

He was surrounded by Wall Street executives, but he looked completely detached. He swirled the champagne in his glass with a slow, deliberate motion. The oppressive aura radiating from him kept everyone at a safe distance.

Jocelyn's breathing slowed down.

A socialite in a red dress tried to approach him. Hayes didn't even speak. He just gave her a look so cold the woman physically recoiled and walked away.

Jocelyn's lips curved into a faint smirk. She had found her target. The most dangerous man in the room.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. She bypassed the crowd, walking purposefully toward the quietest side exit, betting that a man like him would prefer the solitude to escape.

Hayes set his glass down and headed for the door. Jocelyn timed her steps perfectly. She stepped out from behind the pillar and crashed directly into his solid chest.

The champagne splashed across the lapel of his custom suit.

His bodyguards instantly moved forward. One of them shoved Jocelyn back roughly. She stumbled, her heel catching on the carpet.

Jocelyn faked a gasp. She looked up. Her eyes met his.

Hayes's dark eyes were devoid of any warmth. He looked down at the wet stain on his chest. His jaw clenched.

"Get lost," he said. His voice was a low, dangerous rumble.

Jocelyn's heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn't step back.

She pulled a silk handkerchief from her clutch and stepped into his personal space. She pressed her fingers against his chest, wiping the fabric. She could feel the rigid, tense muscles beneath his shirt.

Hayes's hand shot out. He clamped his fingers around her wrist. The grip was brutal, hard enough to bruise bone. His eyes darkened with a lethal warning.

Jocelyn rose onto her tiptoes. She leaned in until her lips were a breath away from his ear.

"I know the real numbers behind the merger," she whispered.

Hayes's pupils contracted. His fingers loosened just a fraction of an inch. His gaze swept over her face, sharp and calculating, like a radar scanning for a threat.

Jocelyn stared right back. Her eyes burned with reckless ambition.

Hayes let go of her wrist. He shot a cold, dismissive glance at the bodyguards who were stepping up to drag her away. "Stay put," he commanded softly, the absolute authority in his tone freezing them in their tracks. He turned and walked toward his private elevator.

Jocelyn rubbed her throbbing wrist. She didn't hesitate. She followed him.

The elevator doors were sliding shut. Jocelyn slipped through the narrow gap just in time.

The small space was instantly suffocating. The scent of cedar and expensive cologne wrapped around her throat.

Hayes didn't press the emergency stop. He didn't tell his guards to drag her out. He just stared at the metal doors.

Jocelyn exhaled slowly. She had won the first round.

The elevator pinged at the penthouse level. The doors opened to a dark hallway. Hayes stepped out, his long legs eating up the distance. Jocelyn followed close behind.

He swiped his keycard. The heavy door clicked open.

He didn't turn on the lights. The moment the door shut, he grabbed Jocelyn's jaw. He forced her head up in the dark.

"What do you want?" he demanded, his voice dropping an octave.

Jocelyn didn't flinch. "I want a backer. Someone who can crush Cam."

Hayes let out a short, harsh laugh. "You don't have enough chips to play at my table."

Jocelyn reached behind her back. She grabbed the zipper of her silk dress and pulled it down.

The fabric pooled at her feet. The cool air of the penthouse hit her bare skin.

Hayes's breathing hitched. The sound was loud in the quiet room. The coldness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, consuming fire.

He slammed her against the door. His mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a punishment. It was possession.

Jocelyn gasped at the pain, but she kissed him back just as hard.

They stumbled through the dark, hitting the wall, knocking over a side table. Logic and reason were drowned out by pure adrenaline. Jocelyn dug her nails into his broad back.

The mattress dipped under their weight. Hayes's massive frame covered hers.

Jocelyn closed her eyes. The pain and the pleasure blurred together as she sealed the most insane contract of her life.

Jocelyn woke up. The morning sun stabbed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, blinding her.

She pulled the heavy duvet up to her chest and sat up. Her muscles ached, a sharp reminder of the violence and passion of the night before.

She turned her head. Hayes was standing in front of the full-length mirror.

He was already fully dressed. His suit was immaculate. His face was a mask of cold indifference. It was as if the wild beast from last night had never existed. The air in the room felt freezing.

Jocelyn opened her mouth to speak.

Hayes didn't look at her. He picked up his phone from the dresser, tapped the screen a few times, and set it down. A second later, her old phone on the nightstand chimed with a message. It was a digital transfer notification from his assistant, Julian, showing a seven-figure sum deposited into a proxy account.

"Leave," he said. His voice was completely flat.

The glowing screen illuminated the sterile white sheets. Jocelyn's chest tightened with a sharp, humiliating sting. She clamped her jaw shut. She refused to let him see her break.

Suddenly, the phone on the nightstand vibrated loudly.

The screen lit up. The name 'Cam' flashed across the glass. The buzzing shattered the dead silence of the room.

Hayes paused. His fingers stopped adjusting his tie. His eyes flicked to the mirror, staring at the glowing screen on the bed. The temperature in the room dropped another ten degrees.

Jocelyn picked up the phone. She swiped to answer it right in front of him.

"Where the hell are you?" Cam's irritated voice barked through the speaker. "Get downstairs. We have the family brunch."

Jocelyn kept her voice perfectly steady. "I slept over at a friend's house. I overslept."

"You're wasting my time," Cam snapped, completely oblivious. "Hurry up."

Jocelyn ended the call. She threw the duvet off and stepped onto the plush rug barefoot. She picked up her ruined silk dress from the floor and slipped it on.

She didn't even glance at the notification. She walked straight past the bed, heading for the massive glass window that overlooked the Manhattan streets.

She looked down.

A familiar black Porsche was parked on the street below. Cam was leaning against the driver's side door, smoking a cigarette, looking annoyed.

A dark thrill of revenge shot through Jocelyn's veins. She spun around and walked right into Hayes's path as he headed for the door.

She blocked him. She looked up at his towering frame. Slowly, she reached up and pulled the collar of her dress down, exposing the dark red marks on her collarbone.

Hayes's eyes darkened. "The game is over," he warned. He reached out to push her aside.

Jocelyn grabbed his tie. She wrapped the silk around her fist and yanked hard. Hayes was forced to lower his head. Their noses almost touched.

"Is the King of Wall Street scared of his own nephew?" she whispered.

A storm erupted in Hayes's eyes.

He didn't push her away. His large hands gripped her waist. He lifted her entirely off the floor and carried her toward the window.

Jocelyn's bare back hit the freezing glass. She gasped.

Cam's figure down on the street suddenly felt terrifyingly close.

Hayes grabbed her chin, forcing her to look down. "Is this the cheap thrill you're looking for?" he sneered.

Jocelyn's heart pounded so hard it hurt her ribs. She looked at Cam, completely clueless below them. She refused to back down. She turned her head and crashed her lips against Hayes's mouth.

He didn't stop her. He kissed her back with brutal force. He pinned her against the glass, taking everything she offered.

The glass was freezing. His body was burning hot. Out of the corner of her eye, Jocelyn saw Cam shift his weight. He was getting ready to look up.

Panic seized her throat. Her body started to tremble. She tried to pull back, but Hayes's arm was an iron band around her waist. She dug her nails into his bicep.

Cam tilted his head back. His eyes scanned the upper floors of the building.

Jocelyn squeezed her eyes shut in pure terror.

A second before Cam's eyes locked onto them, Hayes reached out and slammed his hand against the wall panel. The electronic blinds dropped instantly, plunging the room into shadows.

Hayes broke the kiss. He stepped back. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, his eyes unreadable.

He adjusted his tie, smoothing out the wrinkles she had made. "Don't ever play these stupid games with me again," he said coldly. "Or I'll ruin you."

Jocelyn leaned against the glass, gasping for air. She watched him walk out the door. A slow, victorious smile spread across her swollen lips.

She quickly fixed her dress. She walked over to the bed, picked up her phone, and ruthlessly deleted the transfer message, blocking the proxy account entirely. She tossed the phone into her purse.

Jocelyn opened the penthouse door and walked to the elevator. It was time to go downstairs and face the man she had just betrayed.

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.