zeeintheworldの小説

At one point she complained dramatically about how difficult he had made the last two days for her. “You ignored me at work like I stole money from you.”“You were hiding things from me.”“That doesn’t mean you should’ve acted like I was invisible.”Reagan cut another piece of food calmly. “You survived.”“That’s not the point.”“It usually is.”Rivera shook her head with exaggerated disappointment. “You know, one day somebody is going to humble you badly.”“I doubt it.”“The confidence is actually irritating.”“You’ve mentioned that before.”“Yes, because it’s still true.”Reagan took a sip of water, completely unmoved. She stared at him for a long second before laughing helplessly again.“You’re impossible.”“And yet,” he said smoothly, “you’re still here.”Rivera opened her mouth to reply but stopped. Something about the way he said it lingered strangely in the air between them.It wasn't flirtation exactly. It felt more dangerous than that. She looked away and immediately changed

Reagan did not say anything immediately after stepping out of the car.The evening air carried the faint smell of rain even though the sky remained clear. The headlights cut across the driveway before fading as the engine died.Rivera stood near Luke, one hand loosely around the strap of her bag, her attention fixed on Reagan even though she tried not to make it obvious.He looked tired. Not weak though. Reagan Royce would probably collapse before he ever allowed himself to appear weak.His gaze moved briefly to Luke before returning to Rivera. “I need to speak with my wife.”Luke’s expression shifted. It was small enough that most people would have missed it, but Rivera noticed. His jaw tightened slightly before he relaxed again.“Sure,” Luke said after a second. “I’ll finish unpacking.”Rivera hesitated. She did not know why she hesitated exactly. Maybe because things between her and Reagan had felt unstable for days now. Maybe because she still did not fully know what was happening

The room was deliberately plain. A single table stood at the center, its surface clean and unmarked. Two chairs faced each other across it. The overhead light was not harsh, but it was focused enough to leave the corners of the room in a quiet, watchful dimness.Reagan preferred it that way. No noise, no clutter, and definitely no unnecessary details. Just truth or whatever version of it a man could be pressed into giving.He stood near the far wall, his hands resting loosely in his pockets, his gaze settled on the man seated across the table.Robert Banks did not look like a man who had just been chased and captured. There was no visible panic in him, no restless shifting, no immediate attempt to speak his way out of the situation. He sat with a kind of worn stillness, his shoulders slightly hunched, his hands resting against his knees.Age had touched him, but not gently. There were lines carved into his face that spoke less of time and more of consequence. His hair had thinned and

The next workday carried on without him. It was a strange thing how quickly his absence changed everything. It made the atmosphere feel so off.When she came in, she paused briefly by her desk as her eyes drifted toward his office. The glass doors were closed, and the lights inside were off. He was not there.Rivera swallowed faintly and forced herself to sit. It shouldn’t have mattered. He had missed an office day on her first day here and she had been relieved by his absence. Besides, he was not the kind of man who needed to explain his movements to anyone, and certainly not to her.Still, there was something about the timing that made it feel different.She tried to focus on her work, but her attention drifted more often than she would have liked. What could he still be doing with her father until now, to the extent of missing work? The thought simply won't leave her mind.“Okay, this is weird.”Rivera looked up at the sound of Chloe’s voice. Chloe stood near her desk, a cup of cof

“Or are you looking for an excuse to go back to him?”Rivera did not answer immediately. She simply looked at him. Her gaze held his as though she was trying to understand not just the question, but the intention behind it.There was something in his expression she had seen before, but never like this, and not this direct or intense.This was his possessive side, and she knew that for men like Reagan, owning someone completely and not having to share them with anyone else mattered a lot for their ego.For a moment, it almost felt like she had misheard him, not because the words were unclear, but because of how naturally they had come from him, as though he had every right to ask such a question.“What does that mean?” she asked finally.“It means exactly what it sounds like,” he replied after a moment.Rivera let out a small laugh, but there was no amusement in it. “No,” she said, shaking her head faintly. “It doesn’t. Because you’re implying something, and I’d rather you say it clear

Rivera came back to herself in fragments. Sound returned first, the low hum of voices around her, the distant clatter of glasses, the faint rhythm of music that no longer felt light or inviting but intrusive, almost mocking.Then came the awareness of her own body, heavy and unsteady, her fingers trembling faintly where they rested against the edge of something solid.And then, him. Reagan stood directly in front of her. He was not touching her or speaking to her, he was just watching her, as though nothing had happened.Rivera gasped again as everything rushed back at once. Her father.They’ve got him, she realized. She pushed herself upright and immediately demanded.“Why are you here?” Her voice was strained with something deeper than confusion.Reagan did not answer. His face looked completely guilty. She took a step closer and looked him in the eyes in a confrontational manner.“And who did they get?” she pressed. “Who were you talking about?”Still nothing.“Reagan, I’m talking