Talented Heiress: A Rose With Thorns

The pile of gifts was staggering, nearly covering the entire room. Yvette stared at the mountain of presents, her lips twitching in disbelief. How long would it take to open all of them?

Wilson stepped forward at that moment, holding out a beautifully wrapped box. His deep voice was warm as he said, "Baby, I have something special for you. I designed it myself. I hope you like it."

She took the box, her curiosity piqued. Inside, nestled in silk, was a brooch-a stunning rose crafted from ruby gemstones so vivid it looked almost alive. Her initials were engraved with delicate precision at the base of the piece.

Seeing this, Jacob and Adam exchanged knowing looks, their fists clenching. Wilson had convinced them to pool their gifts into one massive pile for Yvette to enjoy, yet here he was presenting his own separately. The audacity!

Before Wilson could continue, Sean cut him off intentionally, saying, "Yvie, come have some cake! The birthday girl gets the first slice."

Wilson shot a sharp glare at the Murray brothers, his jaw tightening in frustration. He was moments away from throwing them all out.

Meanwhile, Jacob and the others shared the same sentiment-Wilson was an usurper, stealing away their beloved sister, and they would gladly see him gone.

After eating the cake, the evening began winding down. Martha and Irwin, along with the other older guests, retired for the night. But the younger group-Ellen, Nancy, and the rest-were just getting started.

Having indulged in one too many glasses of wine, Yvette wasn't loud or wild. She sat quietly on the couch, her cheeks flushed, her wide eyes glazed with a soft, tipsy warmth. She looked so serene that it tugged at Wilson's heart.

"Let me take you to bed," he murmured gently.noveldrama

She blinked at him, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, and nodded. "Okay." Wilson's expression softened even more as he scooped her up effortlessly into his arms. Cradling her like a princess, he carried her upstairs to her bedroom.

...

On the third floor, Wilson laid her down on the bed with care, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His intense gaze lingered on her, a blend of tenderness and passion. "Goodnight, my love," he whispered.

Her hazy eyes blinked at him, and her arms reached to loop around his neck, holding him in place. "You said there was one more gift," she mumbled, her voice soft but insistent.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, low and captivating. "Baby," he said, his tone dripping with teasing affection. "The last gift is right in front of you."

Her head tilted slightly, her tipsy mind trying to work through his words. After a beat, she pulled him closer, her grip tightening. "If it's my gift, get to decide what to do with it. And I've decided-you're staying."

Wilson let out a breathless laugh, his voice dropping as he gave in to her demand. "Alright. I'm not going anywhere."

He adjusted himself to sit beside her, coaxing her softly. "Now, let's get some rest, okay?"

Yvette's cheeks grew warmer, and

she seemed to muster up a

boldness fueled by alcohol. Her fingers, delicate yet daring, trailed along his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric. Her touch grazed his toned abs, moving lower as they wandered.

Wilson froze, his body stiffening as a

rush of heat shot through him. His breath came out ragged, and he caught her wandering hand, holding it firmly. "Baby," he rasped, his voice thick with restraint. "Do you even realize what you're doing?"

His dark eyes burned with dangerous intensity. It took every ounce of his self- control not to give in to the desire roaring within him.

"Yes," she answered simply, her tone unapologetic.

Wilson laughed, though there was a raw edge to it. His usual composed demeanor cracked, replaced with something mischievous and untamed.

"Baby," he murmured, his lips curving into a wicked smile. "If you weren't so young, I'd have no reason to hold back. But trust me on this keep this up, and you won't be leaving the bed tomorrow."

Her eyes gleamed as she met his gaze head-on, unflinching. "I'm not a kid anymore."

That single sentence was all it took. Wilson's resolve snapped like a taut string, and the last remnants of his restraint dissolved into the night.