Dorothea Caddel, is born into a wealthy family that can easily give her a plane or a planet to her wishes but what if something deep is hidden in the mask of a perfect family, a devil that she fears but soon learns to accept as love. That story chan...
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Jasper lounged on the couch, a game controller casually gripped in one hand as he effortlessly dominated the screen in front of him. Emmet, seated beside him, was losing spectacularly, his frustration growing with each passing round. Jasper, however, appeared utterly bored, his eyes flicking around the room as he waited for Dorothea to join them.
She had gone upstairs with Rosalie, something about trying on dresses Rosalie insisted she needed to see. Dorothea had never been one for dresses or anything too flashy—her usual aesthetic leaned toward old-money, cottage-core vibes, a stark contrast to anything Rosalie might pick. But, in the end, it was harmless.
Just as Jasper was about to wrap up his fifth win, his thumb hovering over the final button, he froze. A voice called out his name, a sound like music to his ears. Dorothea's voice.
He didn't even need to turn around to know she was entering the room. But when he did, his breath hitched in his chest. She stood there, framed in the doorway, wearing a dress that had all of Jasper's attention in a single, electrifying second. It wasn't at all what he expected—Rosalie had somehow managed to transform Dorothea's usual soft, elegant style into something sleek, bold, and undeniably sexy.
His eyes swept over her, drinking in every detail. The dress clung to her in all the right places, a bright shade of white that contrasted with the pale glow of her skin. The lack of straps left her shoulders exposed, drawing his gaze downward, making his pulse quicken. She was holding the chest area of the dress, trying to keep it in place as it threatened to slip.
Jasper straightened up on the couch, his mouth going dry. His eyes stayed locked on her, unable to look away, even as Emmet, in his desperation to get at least one win, fumbled and lost the round.
Emmet threw his controller down with a groan. "Well, guess I'm out of luck today."
Edward, sitting across from them, let out an exasperated sound and threw a pillow at Jasper. Jasper caught it instinctively, but his eyes never left Dorothea, now walking toward them, a soft giggle escaping her lips.
Dorothea's usual aesthetic was old-money, cottage-core—soft, understated, with a touch of elegance. But this? This was Rosalie's influence. The biker-chic, sexy vibes were a stark contrast to Dorothea's usual self, and Jasper couldn't help but admire how Rosalie had managed to pull it off in a way that made her look entirely different—but somehow still her.
As she made her way over, Dorothea's gaze flickered briefly to her family, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief. Jasper's gaze remained fixed on her, his expression unreadable, but the slight tightening in his jaw and the way his hands gripped the pillow in his lap betrayed just how much he was trying to maintain his composure.
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