Unseen Threads

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• Until Paperwork Do Us Part    Biceps and Desire

  Jack's grip on the back of the chair nearly splintered it.The way that dress draped over her body—it was cruel. Whisper-light fabric that clung where it shouldn’t, teasing with every sway of her hips as she moved away, oblivious to the war she’d just ignited inside him.His heart hammered, pounding like fists against the walls of a house on fire. His gaze followed the curve of her back as she disappeared toward the balcony, each step she took unraveling what little control he had left.He clenched his jaw. Forced his eyes shut.Don’t cross the line.Don’t break the rules.He’d repeated those words like a prayer ever since this arrangement began. But the line was a smudge now, barely visible, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to stop pretending. His hands, still damp from rinsing the dishes, clenched into fists. A curse slipped from his lips, low and ragged.He would rather be damned for breaking the rules than sit still and drown in these desires.Elena let out a breath sh

• Until Paperwork Do Us Part    Convictions

  Elena stepped out of the steaming bathroom, the faint hiss of the shower fading behind her as she wrapped the towel tighter around her damp frame. The memory of the dream still clung faintly to her skin like the moisture in her hair, unshakable and chilling. But now, dressed in a soft, sage-green sundress that clung lightly to her form and brushed just above her knees, she tried to focus on the present. Everything about this morning felt different, lighter, more fragile. Her bare feet moved soundlessly across the wood-paneled floor as she made her way down the hallway. The scent of freshly-brewed coffee curled its way toward her, warm and grounding. Her stomach tightened, not from hunger, but from something she couldn't quite name. At the threshold of the kitchen, she halted. And then she saw him. Jack stood with his back turned to her, shirtless, the morning light pouring in from the tall windows casting a golden outline around his silhouette. His muscles rippled subtly with each

• Until Paperwork Do Us Part    The Dream Beneath the Silence.

  Elena's sleep that night was not the deep, peaceful kind that brings comfort. Instead, it dragged her into a long-forgotten corner of her mind. A memory dressed as a dream. Vivid and twisted, blurring the lines between truth and nightmare. She was nine again. The manor had been dressed for celebration that day. White and gold streamers arched above the vaulted ballroom. Enormous floral arrangements framed the long buffet table. And a grand cake, stacked in four tiers, shimmered under the light of the chandelier. It was her ninth birthday. The guests clapped politely as she walked in, wearing a soft blue dress with tiny pearls sewn along the neckline. Her shoes had pinched her toes, and she remembered trying not to show it. Smiling was expected. Looking presentable was required. She had learned that early. Her father had stood near the head of the table, laughing with a few executives in sharp suits. Her mother was beside him, wearing a dark green gown and a smile that didn't qui

• Until Paperwork Do Us Part    Ashes and Fire

  The sky was still gray the next morning, when Layla arrived at the penthouse, wrapped in a trench coat, still damp from the city's relentless rain, she stepped inside, her boots clipping softly against the marble floor. Elena was already waiting, seated in the sunken living room with two mugs of untouched coffee on the table. She looked composed, but Layla saw the shadows under her eyes. They didn't greet each other like employer and assistant, not today. Today, they were allies. Layla removed her coat and settled into the armchair across from Elena. "You called." "Damien called." Elena said simply. The shift in Layla's expression was instant. "What did he say?" "He knows everything, or at least enough to start playing his game out loud." Elena took a slow breath. "He brought up the pregnancy everyone knows so little about." Layla's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't interrupt. Instead, she reached forward and slid one of the mugs closer to Elena. "That bastard." She whispere

• Until Paperwork Do Us Part    The Devil's Voice

  The rain returned that evening like a slow creeping storm, gentle at first, almost soft enough to ignore. Elena stood at the floor-to-ceiling window in her study, the city beneath her blurred by glass and water. Light shimmered through the droplet, fragmented like her thoughts. It had been three days since she made her first public strategic move against Damien, initiating a company-wide audit, locking down Vale Corp's cyber security systems, and freezing all unvetted fund transfers. Three days of silence until now. Her phone buzzed on the desk beside her, an unknown number. Her heart paused, the kind of pause, the one that felt less like stillness and more like the body, bracing for something catastrophic. She hesitated, her fingertips hovering just above the screen before she tapped to answer. She didn't speak first, neither did the voice on the other end. Not at once. Instead, a familiar hum filtered through. Classical music, a waltz, one she had not heard in years, her mother'

• Until Paperwork Do Us Part    The Trap is Sprung

  Morning arrived with the clarity of glass and the cool precision of loaded guns. Elena sat at her desk in Vale Corp's Executive wing, staring at the monitors arrayed before her. The footage from the past few days was playing in sequence, each time-stamped clip revealing just enough to confirm her instincts had been right. Gerald Wynn had been feeding information through Olivia, and Olivia, ever the polished analyst with flawless lipstick and fake sympathy, had been Damien's direct threat into the company. No longer. No more.She tapped her finger twice against the screen, freezing on a moment where Olivia stood too close to the freight entrance, phone pressed against her cheek, speaking with an intensity that betrayed her usual professional facade. The person receiving her whispered updates wasn't visible, but Layla's recovered messages confirmed that the man Olivia had been listening to wasn't just any reporter or insider.It was Damien's latest alias: M. Cresswell, a fictional e