"I don't care if you're a spoiled heir or a pawn in his twisted game—tonight, I will decide my fate!" AMIRIAM roars as her world collides with danger, desire, and scandal. In a sprawling mansion where wealth hides dark secrets, the fierce and determined AMIRIAM, a devoted nanny to sweet little JAMES, finds herself entangled in a torrid affair with the enigmatic LUKE ODEN. Torn between loyalty and lust, LUKE battles the oppressive expectations of his domineering father, JACKSON ODEN, whose ironclad control over his inheritance fuels a legacy of broken hearts. In searing, shock-filled exchanges—like LUKE's biting retort, "You want to see me stripped bare, not just physically but for who I truly am?"—the story exposes a raw vulnerability beneath the veneer of high-society indulgence. Family ties further complicate the passion: the ever-watchful AMA, the supportive yet embattled CHRISTIANA and RITA, and even FRANK and OSSIAN PETE, whose past romances and betrayals echo through every heated encounter. Meanwhile, the seductive STACY enters the fray, her allure both a promise and a threat, challenging every boundary in this forbidden game of love and money. Hot, sweet, and unapologetically scandalous, Reckless Desires: The Oden Legacy is a searing tale of passion, power, and betrayal—a world where every whispered secret and incendiary dialogue has the potential to shatter lives and redefine destiny.
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As Amiriam pulled up to James's residence, she scowled and studied the unfamiliar car ahead. It was a gaudy, red BMW, but she couldn't put a model name to it for the life of her. Her favorite six-year-old squirmed in the back seat, reminding her. Looking in the rearview mirror, she mashed her SUV into park and focused on matters more urgent. Like preventing urine from dripping onto her leather seats. "Do you need to go pee?" she asked James. She was his nanny for a couple of years, and it truly was the greatest job in the world. He had a sticky mop of dark, curly hair on his head, and two dimples that made him able to get away with murder. Most of the time, at least. With a quick motion of his head, James unfastened his seat belt and scooted over toward the back passenger door as if his pants were afire. That's what you get for not going while we were still at my sister's house, Amiriam had to think about saying, but she kept quiet. It made no difference how many times she instructed the boy to listen to her; if he didn't feel like it, he wouldn't. And reminding him of the fact that she was correct wouldn't do any good, either. Sprinting to catch up with the boy, Amiriam searched for the keys that would open his front door as she gazed upon the strange car suspiciously. James was the first to reach the front door and swung it open, making Amiriam put her hand, which contained keys, down to the side. If the door were open, then that would imply an older brother was home. Well, half-brother if they needed to get all technical. She didn't know much about enigmatic Luke Oden other than the fact that he and his little brother shared the same dimples—and the same disrespect for obeying the rules. The man had gotten under her skin at every meeting they'd ever had, and she'd learned to keep him at arm's length if she hoped to keep her sanity. "Yay, me," she grumbled to herself and then entered the humongous foyer. White and black marble tiles comprised the floor, and fresh-burning bleach permeated the air so that James's house smelled more of sterile museum than home space. Maybe AMA, the maid, had a new vehicle and bought it on sale because the douche Amiriam wouldn't deal with was out again man-whoring in the city. Then she remembered the make of the car, and her shoulders sagged. It was a BMW. AMA could never pay for a BMW. Dammit. In search of the blessed cool air to soothe her cheeks, Amiriam discovered it to be as hot as Hades inside, and her brows furrowed in puzzlement. What the hell? James's parents were away, and it seemed that she got to have a handyman come to repair the AC unit. Her ears perked up at the strange sound of rap music coming from deeper inside the house, startling her from the unusually warm accompanied in the foyer. Having heard it, she peeked into the dining room to find it empty before venturing farther toward the middle of the house. The family room was not occupied, nor was the kitchen. Curious, she inspected the study when James called her name over his shoulder and diverted her attention. "Hey, Amiriam. What's that?" Dangling from his six-year-old fingers was a crimson, lacy bra, and her eyes were about to come out of their sockets. Bending forward, she yanked the delicate stuff from him and then jammed it behind her back. "Where in the world did you get that?" she snarled, the face growing flushed with embarrassment and anger. "It was on the couch. Is that.?" Now his face was burning bright red. Reaching into her rear pocket, she took out her phone and nearly shoved it into James's chest. "It's nothing. Here. Take this, stay in here, and play some games for a bit, okay? Don't go outside till I come and get you. Get it?" The electronics-addicted kid didn't even let her finish before he opened her phone and dove into the first game his wee fingers happened to find. Stuff that he would be busy for a couple of minutes, Amiriam strode towards the rap music like a woman on a mission while the dumb bra swung back and forth. When girly giggles reached her ears—along with the stifling heat that seeped out of a crack in the back door—she gritted her teeth. Swinging it open with more force than she probably should, she walked towards the hot tub frothing along the side of the house. They didn't notice her at first. Clearly, the two people in the hot tub were both preoccupied. Nevertheless, that did not dissuade her from noticing their exposed position. Mr. Jerk was lounging in the hot tub and Ms. Lacy Bra was sitting on top of him—topless. His inked arms drifted up and down her spine at a slow pace as she left kisses down the curve of his neck. All she could do was keep her eyes from wandering or retreat inside before they noticed. But yet, somehow, she found that she had enough guts to hang on and yell, "Hey, Jerk! Can we chat for a sec?" The woman in his lap spun around in surprise before leaning her naked chest into Luke's. Her high-pitched voice could have shattered glass when she shrieked, "Who the hell are you?" "She's the nanny," replied Luke to her, his voice tinged with boredom before turning to Amiriam. "Is there a problem?" Amiriam complained. "Yeah. I'd say so. Your little brother just found his first bra on the couch. Thanks for that, by the way. The back door was open, so all the cool air got out, and your house is a freaking sauna. The music is so loud I'm surprised the cops aren't at the front door breaking it down for disturbing the peace, and don't even get me started on the profanity blaring louder than a foghorn. Do you think it's appropriate for a six-year-old to be hearing this crap?" Waving her hand at the topless bimbo, she went on, "And don't even get me started about your houseguest. What if James had happened to see this? Do you have any decency whatsoever?" She nodded to said bimbo. "And you! Do you have any self-respect at all? Do you know who this creep is? I'd wager twenty dollars right now that the guy doesn't even know your name. Yet, here you sit, straddling the guy and yelling like he's a freaking blessing' from the heavens. Get a break. Dress yourself up. And get the heck outta here before I force you." Amiriam's breast was heaving by the time she'd finished her little oration to discover that Luke's lips were twisted into a sneer. "Anything else, Nanny?" he sneered. Teeth gritted, Amiriam took the bra and cinched it up into a ball and hurled it at his head. Bimbo shrieked as the lightweight material whizzed past her and hit the side of the hot tub before splashing into the water. Luke's eyes turned dark as he uttered, "You missed." "Next time, I won't." Whirling on her heel, Amiriam ran inside, slamming the door behind her. Her blood was pounding as she leaned against the glass door and took a couple of deep breaths. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him, she told herself. "Everything all right?" James asked, startling her. "Yup," she gritted out. "Just peachy.”"You have no business being here," Amiriam started abruptly, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor behind her.Luke stood stock-still, caught halfway through a motion with a pile of patient charts held tightly in his arms. Slowly, he turned, as though perhaps she would not recognize the broad shoulders, tousled head, and that infuriatingly serene face that always seemed to make her want to shake him."Amiriam," he said, attempting to produce a disarming grin.Her eyebrows snapped together. "Assisting? Ten-thirty at night? With confidential patient material?"He set the files on the counter one by one, his hands raised as if in surrender. "Look, I wasn't trying to cross a line. I was just trying to catch up on the backlog. I've been volunteering here for some weeks. After dark."Her arms crossed, incredulous. "Without warning anyone? Without warning me?""Sort of the point," he said with a ridiculous shrug. "You wouldn't have.""You're goddamn right I wouldn't have," she snapped, mo
"But what do you mean someone donated fifty thousand dollars anonymously?" Amiriam asked, setting her mug of tea down with a soft thud against the edge of the front desk.Her assistant, Leah, blinked behind her glasses, the check trembling in her hand. "It arrived this morning. No signature. No return address. Just. that."She gave Amiriam the crumpled note. Pale cream paper, costly. The writing was neat, clean, and intimate in a way that constricted her chest.The note read:Because you kept showing up, even when nobody showed up for you.Just one sentence. No signature. No flourish. Nothing else.Amiriam stared at it.Rita entered from the break room, a granola bar clutched in her hand. "What's up?"Amiriam gave her the note.Rita read it, arched an eyebrow. "Anonymous donor with poetic inclinations? Must be a man with money and a guilty conscience.""I was thinking the same," Amiriam grumbled."You were thinking Luke."Amiriam didn't answer immediately. Rather, she turned the note
"Is it done?" Luke asked, glancing down at the phone in his hand. Morning light filtered into the kitchen of the Oden estate, weak gold on the marble counters.Victor's voice grated over the speaker. "She dropped the lawsuit late last night. Her lawyer filed an official notice of withdrawal. No settlement, no pursuit. Just. gone.Luke leaned back in the chair, rubbing the stubble on his chin with one hand. "Where is she now?""That's uncertain," Victor replied. "She checked out of the motel around three a.m. Paid cash. Took a rideshare to the bus station. After that, nothing concrete. My guess is she's headed somewhere quiet. Somewhere she can blend in."Luke looked up at the kitchen ceiling, absorbing it all. "She didn't say goodbye.""Would you have believed it if she had?" Victor asked.Luke didn't say anything.Hours later, after he had dropped James at the community center, Luke slid into the driver's seat of his car and paused. Something was different.A white envelope was perch
"There's a 'No Cell Phones' sign in the front, right?" Amiriam questioned, her voice drifting over the high shelves of the downtown library. Her voice was gentle, nearly playful—but her gaze never moved from the cart of returned books she was shelving.Luke glanced up from where he was standing, holding his buzzing phone uncomfortably, the screen still glowing with a message from Richard."Corry, red-handed," he said, silencing it and stuffing it in his jacket. "Didn't think I'd see you here."Amiriam pushed the cart in front of her. "And yet here you are again—showing up uninvited in spaces I come to find refuge in."He smiled sheepishly. "I didn't come by to impose. I came to ask something."She stopped and arched her brow. "You're asking now?"His expression turned serious. "I'm trying."Amiriam inclined her head and stepped along the row. Luke followed her at a deferential distance, his gaze wandering over the books coated in dust. The library smelled of old paper, oiled wood, and
"This better be a joke."Jackson Oden's voice cut the silence in the estate conference room as if with a knife. The huge wall monitor displayed a grainy video with the name of the clinic only barely readable in the background: Fertility & Hope Reproductive Center.There, on the screen, stood Stacy Royce.The tape wasn't salacious-looking—just her speaking softly at a front counter, filling out forms. But the date on the tape, the time stamp several months before she'd ever claimed to have been pregnant with Luke's children, contradicted all she'd ever said to them.Victor folded his arms from where he had taken up his position beside the table. "Anonymous leak. Presumably from the receptionist, or records. They were paid for it, but not by us. Someone else wished it to be publicized."Jackson snarled a curse. "She was never bearing his children. It was all a setup.""Yeah, she was shopping for egg donors," Victor went on. "And there's a consult transcript we were able to procure legal
"I didn't even bring flowers," Amiriam growled, kneeling at the headstone as the late sun sliced through the trees in the cemetery. Wind danced among strands of her hair and sent the scent of grass and dirt and something with a metallic taste on the breeze."Didn't think I'd be here again at all," she continued, her voice stronger than she was. "But here I am. Again."The grave was simple, unpretentious. The stone read:Evelyn Solomon. 1969–2020.She did what she could.Amiriam let out a sigh close to laughter. "You always hated sentiment. Even in death, you were honest."She sat down, the ground a bit moist under her jeans, and pulled out her journal from her backpack. Worn, leather-bound. The pages smelled of ink and lost sleep.She opened to a blank page and began to write.April 3rd.I always survived. Even when no one came back for me. Even when I screamed and no one ever glanced around. Even when I sat on the side of my bed, twelve years old, listening to your silence behind the
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