Filed to story: Quinn Lane and Julian Sterling Book PDF Free
Two miles down the road, his phone rang. He answered it, “What?”
“Well, well. Someone’s in a good mood.”
Julian raised an eyebrow, asking, “You can tell?”
Zeke Croft laughed, replying, “No one else could, but we’ve known each other since we were in diapers.”
“Cut the crap, Zeke,” Julian said, his voice cool. “Get to the point.”
“It’s about you. What else? It’s your own fault for being so damn handsome. All these women are dying to throw themselves at you, but you won’t give them the time of day. So now they’re trying to get to you through other channels. My grandmother just got another request to set you up on a blind date.”
Julian’s eligibility was off the charts, and countless heiresses and debutantes were vying for his attention. But he was naturally dominant, arrogant, and cold, impossibly hard to get close to.
Julian said nothing.
“I know you’re not interested,” Zeke continued, “but at least show my grandma some respect. You have no idea what they say about you behind your back.”
“Not interested.”
“With that personality of yours, I have no idea what they see in you,” Zeke grumbled. “Anyway, they’re all gossiping that you must be… you know… huge. That you look like you would be incredible in bed. They’re practically fantasizing about ripping your pants off to measure you…”
“What is this nonsense?” Julian cut in, his brow furrowed. “I’m hanging up.”
“Wait!” Zeke said quickly. “Your new yacht!
When are you going to invite me to see it?”
“This weekend,” Julian said. “Bring a few people.”
It took Quinn two days to make the comforters for Rosalie.
In this day and age, you could buy any kind of bedding imaginable. But Rosalie always insisted that the ones Quinn made were different, warmer, lighter, and infused with the “scent of home.” Elaine, of course, had eaten it up, immediately decreeing that Quinn would make new ones for Rosalie every year from now on.
Quinn looked at the finished comforters, and a sad smile touched her lips. If onlyRosalie had truly been my sister. If only she didn’t hate me.
From the moment Rosalie had returned, everything had changed. Her parents were different. Her friends had vanished. To the outside world, Quinn had gained a sister who adored her, and her adoptive parents’ love remained unchanged. She was the luckiest girl in the world.
But she finally understood the truth. From the day Rosalie came back, Quinn hadn’t had a home at all.
These two comforters would be the last she ever made.
After dropping them off, Quinn was driving home when a call came in from Chase.
“Saturday afternoon, you’re coming with me to a party on a yacht,” he said, his tone clipped. “Make sure you look stunning, understand?”
“I’m not going.”
“Quinn, what the hell has gotten into you lately? If this is your little game to get my attention, then fine, congratulations, it worked. Happy now?”
When you cared about someone, their every word was a weapon.
But when you stopped caring, it was all just noise, like a dog barking at nothing.
For the first time, Quinn realized how liberating it was to finally let go of this dead-end love.
“Think whatever you want,” she said. “Chase, I wasn’t joking about the divorce.”
She hung up before he could reply.
She must make her intentions crystal clear to Chase. Next, she would have to convince Elaine and her husband. But before that, she needed to focus on the design competition she had entered. Once that was over, she would sit down with her parents and have the talk. They were obsessed with appearances, but if she was resolute, surely they would respect her decision.
As she got out of her car, a new message popped up on her phone. It was from Chase.
“Saturday’s party is important. As long as you are Mrs. Sterling, you will fulfill your duties as my wife.”
Quinn didn’t reply. She went to her room to work on her competition entry.
She sat for a long time, her mind a blank. Frustrated, she opened her phone, scrolling through old videos for inspiration. A clip of a singer appeared on the screen, something Lucy had sent her. He was one of those pretty-boy teen idols Lucy was obsessed with, constantly raving about his “divine looks.”
It was an exaggeration. If a man like that truly existed, he would look more like the man she had seen at the tailor shop.
His tall frame and deep-set, handsome features flashed in her mind. She jolted back to reality, shocked that she had been daydreaming about a stranger’s face. She patted her cheeks, took a deep breath, and looked back at her sketchpad. Suddenly, a novel idea sparked in her mind.
Inspiration flooded her, and her pencil flew across the paper.
Her phone was on silent. It lit up several times with an incoming call, but she was too absorbed to notice.
Unable to reach Quinn, Rosalie was so furious she almost threw her phone against the wall. Then Chase called again, whining that Quinn was serious about the divorce and asking what he should do.
Rosalie fumed. What should he do? How should I know?The man was completely useless. He couldn’t even handle one little Quinn!
She was suddenly incredibly grateful she had pushed him to marry Quinn all those years ago. Otherwise, he would still be clinging to her. She would never stoop to being with a man like that.
The man she wanted was someone better.
Just then, her phone pinged. She snatched it up.
At the very top of her chat list, a pinned conversation with the single-letter nickname “J” had a new message.
It was from him.
Rosalie sat up straighter, her heart pounding sweetly as she clutched the phone. It had taken her almost three years to get him to add her as a contact. She had spent two and a half of those years slowly breaking down his defenses. It was only in the last six months that they had started chatting intermittently.
But in the last month, he had become noticeably warmer.
Her hard work was paying off. All the effort she had poured into crafting the perfect persona, the ambitious, innocent, beautiful girl, through her texts, her photos, and their conversations was about to bear fruit.
The head of the Sterling family, Julian, would be wrapped around her little finger soon.
The boys who used to follow Quinn around, as successful as they were, were nothing compared to Julian. Once Rosalie was his girlfriend, it would be the perfect time to make her triumphant return to the country.
But the moment wasn’t quite right. She could sense he was starting to fall for her, but she needed a catalyst, something to push him over the edge and make him confess. She would have to think of something.
Back in Lakeshore City, in the Apex Tower, Julian put down his phone, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He pressed the intercom button.
“Have a gift prepared for…”
He paused, frowning, and changed his mind.
“Never mind.”
It wasn’t the right time to send a gift. And when he did, he should choose it himself.
The yacht party was tomorrow. Julian had left the planning to Zeke, who excelled at this sort of thing, like parties, galas, and art shows. He had a passion for all of it. A trip out to sea was a minor affair for Zeke.
Many of the invited guests were surprised. It wasn’t that they had never been on a yacht, but they were shocked that Julian was the owner. Though he was the head of the powerful Sterling family, managing generations of accumulated wealth, he was famously private and reserved. He had given interviews to financial magazines, but only as text; he never allowed his photo to be taken. A global survey of the ten most mysterious billionaire families had ranked the Sterling family near the top.
And he was throwing a party on a yacht? What a surprise!
The combination of sun, sand, yachts, and heirs conjured images of powerful men surrounded by a sea of bikini-clad women. But picturing Julian’s face in that scene sent a shiver down many a spine. They looked down at the thick, formal invitation in their hands.
Was this really a party or a G7 summit?
Charles personally called Quinn to ask about her attendance. She couldn’t refuse an elder. Though she and Chase didn’t live with his parents, Charles had always been kind to her. Now that he was asking directly, she couldn’t bring herself to be rude.
After hanging up, Quinn tried to console herself. It was just a party. She would make an appearance and leave.
She had no idea that Chase had hired a professional styling team, who spent two hours on her hair and makeup before dressing her in an elegant evening gown.
Chase was very pleased with the result.
“You are my wife,” he said, looking her up and down. “When you’re out, you represent my family’s image. Don’t you dare embarrass me on that yacht. If you were half as sensible as Rosalie, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”
Quinn ignored him and silently got into the car.
When they arrived at the marina, the sight of the colossal white vessel took her breath away.
She couldn’t have known that on this yacht, an event was about to unfold that would change her life forever.
The ship was a marvel of engineering, nearly 650 feet long and over 130 feet wide, a floating palace displacing almost twenty thousand tons. It boasted two helicopter pads, a hangar for a submarine and speedboats, luxurious guest suites, multiple dining halls, and even a massive aquarium.
Its security was something out of a spy film, equipped with a missile detection system, bulletproof armor, and a laser shield that could automatically detect and jam cameras.
No wonder they called it a superyacht.
More so than women, men have an innate desire to conquer the seas. When Chase gazed at the world-class vessel, his eyes gleamed with envy. “When will I ever own a yacht like this?” he breathed.
“We should get on board,” Quinn reminded him.
Boarding required passing through three layers of security.
The first checkpoint was the invitation. No invitation, no entry. You were escorted away, no questions asked.
The second was a dress code inspection. Anyone dressed inappropriately was politely denied access.
The final checkpoint required all guests to surrender any sharp objects or flammable items. Just like on a plane, lighters were forbidden.
Chase was bewildered, asking, “You can’t smoke on the yacht?”
A staff member replied with impeccable politeness, “Good afternoon, sir. This is a smoke-free vessel. We believe in protecting the environment.”
Chase wanted to curse. What the hell? Protecting the environment?
He had never heard of a party where you couldn’t even smoke. But then he remembered who the host was, and the words died in his throat. Who would dare question a rule set by Julian?
After passing all three checks, they were finally allowed to proceed.
Zeke was in the middle of greeting guests. He wasn’t the host, but he and Julian were close, and his family was powerful in its own right. Since Julian would never deign to personally welcome everyone, Zeke was playing the part. He didn’t mind; he enjoyed this sort of thing. He would chat warmly with the people he knew and graciously accept the fawning compliments from those he didn’t.
