เข้าสู่ระบบ“Tell me again,” he murmured, his bare chest a hot, dangerous brand against her back. His teeth grazed the shell of her ear, making her shudder. “How you want me to treat you.” She clutched the silk sheets, dragging them up to her chin, hating the tremor in her voice. “I—I want you to be professional.” A low, dark laugh ghosted over her damp skin. “Then stop looking at me like that.” His amused, arctic-blue eyes held hers captive in the bedroom mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what in the world she’d gotten herself into. ^ ^ ^ Isabella Rossi’s life shattered when she discovered her boyfriend’s affair with her best friend, Chloe. The happy couple were even expecting a baby, and she was supposed to be happy for them. Hah. Heartbreak was just the beginning. Drunk and deceived, she woke up in the bed of a powerful, enigmatic stranger—Vincent Sinclair. She thought it was a one-time, humiliating mistake. A secret she would bury forever. Until Monday morning, when Vincent Sinclair strolled into her office as the new, ruthless CEO. And she found out he was her ex-best friend Chloe’s half-brother. Flustered but confident, she met his eyes. Men like him didn’t remember girls like her. She was sure of it. He was most likely just an entitled playboy and the faces in his bed probably blurred. But oh, how wrong she was. Vincent Sinclair remembered everything. Finding his "one-night stand" playing the part of a forgettable employee was his new favorite amusement. First, he made her his personal secretary. Then, he made her life a living, tempting hell. Finally, he served her a contract. Not for a raise—for marriage. It was absurd. But with her life in shambles and his offer too lucrative, Isabella signed.
ดูเพิ่มเติมThe knocking came again—sharp, insistent, and impossible to ignore.Vincent’s jaw tightened. He cast one last glance toward the bed where Rossi had burrowed deeper under the sheets, then crossed the suite and opened the door just enough to step into the corridor. Vincent’s annoyance deflated somewhat.Julian stood there looking more harried than Vincent had ever seen him, even when he usually overworked him. Tablet in hand, expression professionally neutral, Julian’s gaze flicked once to Vincent’s bare chest—marked with faint scratches and the unmistakable signs of recent passion—before he quickly looked away thinking:'She didn’t look it, but Secretary Rossi was pretty fierce.'“We have a problem,” Julian said hesitantly.Vincent didn’t bother with Julian’s pressed expression. He kept his voice low. “Security cameras?”“Already checked. The hallway feeds were looped for twenty minutes last night. Professional work.” Julian paused, then added carefully, “But that’s not the main issu
The silence in the suite wasn’t empty. It pressed in, heavy with the sound of their breathing.Behind Vincent, the curtains stirred in the morning light, casting a faint golden edge over his shoulders. He looked composed, almost unfairly so.Isabella blinked slowly, his earlier words finally sinking in. “Wait. You’re firing me… because we slept together?”She gestured between them, her voice steadier than she felt.Vincent didn’t answer right away. He simply watched her from the edge of the bed, expression unreadable, like she was a problem he hadn’t yet decided how to file.Her pulse hammered, but she walked back toward him anyway. She was wearing his shirt now—it hung loose on her frame, the hem brushing her thighs. At least she was wearing his pants.“Say it clearly,” she said, stopping a few steps away. “Don’t make me guess.”Vincent swung his legs over the side of the bed in one smooth motion. The sheet slipped lower on his hips. “I don’t mix business with pleasure, Rossi.”The w
Warm sunlight spilled across her cheek. A low, hoarse groan escaped Isabella’s throat—more like a wounded baby deer than a person. She wanted to say something, but only a few monotone syllables fell out. Her head was pounding something fierce. Then she vaguely felt her head being lifted by a hand… followed by something touching her lips. Soft. Icy. Something thin and dry pressed snugly against her mouth, rubbing gently. Then a warm, moist pressure slid between her lips—a tongue, coaxing her teeth apart. Isabella’s mind was fogged to hell. She subconsciously followed the temperature, pressing her lips closer, sucking lightly at the tongue invading her mouth. The cedar-and-spice scent seeped into her senses, traveling along her tongue, her throat, her spine. And with every second, reality sharpened. Her eyes fluttered open and a vision came together. Her consciousness clicked in. And then— oh no. Vincent Sinclair’s face filled her entire field of view, close e
Julian's heart ricocheted in his chest for the hundredth time since Darling Sinclair arrived. She wasn’t someone he could refuse. Her words held actual weight and she was as much of a pain as the Old President Sinclair. He had to tread lightly with her. So, who could blame him for what he did next? Julian plastered on his most dazzling customer-service-approved smile, bowed with flair, and said, "Please, this way, Miss Sinclair." Clarisse Dubois, Vincent’s mother: "..." She sputtered for a few seconds, drawing enraged breaths. Julian avoided her eyes like a man with high-grade self-preservation lotion. But it couldn’t be helped. Who let Darling Sinclair be more important than Clarisse in Chairman Sinclair’s heart? In the grand, messed-up hierarchy of Vincent Sinclair’s world, the mega-star aunt with a direct line to the Sinclair family fortune outranked the perpetually disapproving mother. It was just facts. He was leading Darling upstairs when the rapid steps of the others s
“Enough!”Clarisse barreled between the two women and shoved Zoe back as if she carried a contagious disease.Her tone dripped venom.“Leave. Her. Alone. You dare lay your filthy hands on my daughter?”Zoe stumbled back, chest heaving, a clump of blonde hair clutched victoriously in her fist.Chloe
Chloe Dubois pressed the phone to her ear so hard the plastic creaked, her body turned away from the dying remnants of her engagement party.The ballroom was a ghost of its former self—a few stunned waiters, scattered rose petals, and the glaring evidence of a scandal.Her voice was a venomous hiss
The cab idled at the curb, its engine a low, impatient grumble that matched Zoe Finn’s mood perfectly. She tapped her freshly manicured nails against the window frame, her gaze fixed on the hotel’s glittering service entrance.“Two minutes, Bella,” she muttered to the night air. “Then I’m coming in
A tremor rippled through Vincent’s arms.Isabella kept holding his gaze—glassy, pleading, trusting—and something inside him snapped like overstretched thread.He inhaled sharply.“I'll call—” he started, but her lips brushed his jaw.Just a whisper of contact.Soft. Desperate.He clenched his jaw a












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