A Mistress For Aiden Creek

Marrying My Runaway Groom's Powerful Father

Temple Madison

I was sitting in the Presidential Suite of The Pierre, wearing a Vera Wang gown worth more than most people earn in a decade. It was supposed to be the wedding of the century, the final move to merge two of Manhattan's most powerful empires. Then my phone buzzed. It was an Instagram Story from my fiancé, Jameson. He was at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris with a caption that read: "Fuck the chains. Chasing freedom." He hadn't just gotten cold feet; he had abandoned me at the altar to run across the world. My father didn't come in to comfort me. He burst through the door roaring about a lost acquisition deal, telling me the Holland Group would strip our family for parts if the ceremony didn't happen by noon. My stepmother wailed about us becoming the laughingstock of the Upper East Side. The Holland PR director even suggested I fake a "panic attack" to make myself look weak and sympathetic to save their stock price. Then Jameson’s sleazy cousin, Pierce, walked in with a lopsided grin, offering to "step in" and marry me just to get his hands on my assets. I looked at them and realized I wasn't a daughter or a bride to anyone in that room. I was a failed asset, a bouncing check, a girl whose own father told her to go to Paris and "beg" the man who had just publicly humiliated her. The girl who wanted to be loved died in that mirror. I realized that if I was going to be sold to save a merger, I was going to sell myself to the one who actually controlled the money. I marched past my parents and walked straight into the VIP holding room. I looked the most powerful man in the room—Jameson’s cold, ruthless uncle, Fletcher Holland—dead in the eye and threw the iPad on the table. "Jameson is gone," I said, my voice as hard as stone. "Marry me instead."

Billionaires Revenge Kickass Heroine Revenge Female-centered Ex-wife

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ARTEMIS POV

I eyed the golden watch on the table, pretending to be interested in something else while inching closer to the table. I knew it was wrong to steal but I couldn't help it. I was hungry and I didn't want to die.

I imagined the funeral poster would read thus, 'Artemis Vincent, died of hunger because she didn't want to take a watch that some rich dude left behind.'

I shook my head. Gosh, I needed therapy. Why would I even think that? I eyed the watch again while cunningly looking around. When I got right to the table, I snatched the watch and shoved it into my pocket.

'You did it Artemis. You can buy burgers from Starbucks... you can....'

"THIEF!!" Someone shrieked and I turned to see a huge oaf of a man charging right at me. He was dressed in a black suit and wore dark sunglasses. My survival instincts kicked in and I beelined for the open window.

'If they catch you, you are dead. Fucking run, legs.'

I pumped my legs faster and easily slipped into the window and outside the shop. It was easy now, after weeks of practice. I heard the shouts growing louder and more voices, added with running feet.

'Keep running.'

I ran harder, with all I had but when I turned to look it seemed that they were gaining on me. There were five men now and they were alarmingly close.

'Damn it!'

I turned back to focus on running when I slammed into someone and I let out

I opened my mouth to let out a remark when I stopped. The person in front of me was scowling. He was blonde-haired and he wore dark shades. He held out his hand.

"Hand it over," he ordered, his voice was calm, but I could feel the warning in it.

"Hand what over?" I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I backed away but realized the others had caught up and were blocking any route of escape.

"You don't want my boss to deal with you," the blonde-haired fella said and I raised a brow.

"Wait! You are not the boss" I said, trying to avoid the subject. Blondie didn't take that well because he sort of growled and kept his hands outstretched.

"Hand it over lady," he said and I scowled.

"Like I said I..." I began but before I could complete my sentence or even blink, he grabbed me and pulled me to himself. I let out a scream and struggled aggressively in his arms but he didn't even budge.

"Give me the fucking watch and I'll let you go. If not, you'll rot in prison," he whispered in my ear, and for some reason, only the universe could explain, my body relaxed instinctively to the caress of his voice in my ear.

"No!" I managed to say and he growled. His hands suddenly landed on my thigh and I bucked into him.

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