Making Her His - A Singular Obsession Book One_Sample

Making Her His - A Singular Obsession Book One - chapter 1,2,3

Prologue

A horn blared to his right, letting Alex know he'd gotten too close to a neighboring car. "Fuck," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel to adjust, accelerating through a narrow gap between two trucks.

The wind whipped across his face through a crack in the open window. He really shouldn't drive so fast when he was in this bad a mood, but he couldn't help it. Brunch with his father's new family was more than enough to set off his temper, but on top of that, he was running late. He'd procrastinated at home so long that he barely left himself enough time to get there before they sat down to eat.

Gritting his teeth, he gunned the engine of his vintage Shelby Mustang, whipping through the lanes as fast as the heavy traffic allowed. His father's estate outside of London wasn't much farther, but he was still going to be late. Which meant he was going to get another lecture from his father on trying harder to accept his new stepmother. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.

He didn't need this right now. He was planning a big business deal with a new Chinese partner, and this was a distraction. Not that he didn't want to see his father. But the additional presence of Mary and her kid was going to drive him crazy. Attending his father's wedding to the American gold-digger had been bad enough. Now he had to waste an entire Sunday afternoon on them: the new wife and her nonentity of a daughter, a chubby and quiet teen he'd only seen once shortly after Costas had announced his engagement.

He glanced at his watch as he pulled the car into the long drive of his father's house. Only ten minutes late. He ran into the large mansion, taking the steps two at a time, and stopped in the foyer to make sure his mother's watercolor painting was still hanging on the wall. They'd lost his mother, Elena, when he was eleven after a long illness. At the time, his family had been living in New York, after relocating from Greece so she could have the best medical care available. In the end, it hadn't made a difference, and she'd died. Needing a change, his father had moved them to the UK a few months after she passed.

He had honestly believed his father would remain a widower for the rest of his life. Costas probably had, too. For so long, it had just been the two of them. But that changed when Costas met Mary.

Sighing, Alex conceded that, since his remarriage, his father seemed far more youthful and energetic. The change was so obvious that Alex hadn't had a choice—he had stopped fighting him over the marriage. At least until they had started arguing over the prenup.

Alex had insisted Mary sign one, but Costas hadn't seen a need. The series of arguments that followed ended only when Mary, an attractive brunette in her mid-forties, intervened and told Costas she would sign anything his son wanted because they weren't going to get divorced. Just like that, the fight was over.

Satisfied that the painting hadn't gone anywhere, his mood was somewhat improved when he was shown to the terrace, where he joined the two people already at the table partaking of a light and elegant brunch. He greeted them hastily and sat down in the seat opposite his father at the head of the table.

The clicking of heels alerted him to Mary's approach. She stopped short of the table and raised her hand in a brief and awkward wave.

"Hello Alex," she said with her habitually friendly smile, hovering close to his chair.

His father cleared his throat, "Wouldn't you rather sit next to me, Alexandros?"

"Why?" Alex asked absently as he reached for a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Picking it up, he noticed a smudge of lipstick on the rim. "Oh, sorry," he said, but rather than change seats, he simply switched glasses as all the other flatware appeared untouched.