LOGINAbigail’s POV I stepped out of Abuelo’s study on unsteady legs. The hallway felt too bright, the voices too sharp, even though the worst of the chaos had passed.I had done my job. I had kept my hands steady, my voice calm, my face professional while I worked on the man who had become like family. That was what mattered.But the second I was alone, the adrenaline crashed.My chest tightened. Breathing turned shallow. The walls pressed in. I needed air. Real air.I walked quickly toward the balcony at the end of the east wing. Each step jolted through me, stirring memories I usually kept buried: another night, another car speeding through darkness, my father’s voice fading in the wreck.By the time I pushed open the balcony doors, my hands were shaking. Cool night air hit my face, but it wasn’t enough. I gripped the stone railing, knuckles white, and tried to pull in a full breath. It caught in my throat.“Breathe, Abigail,” I whispered. “Just breathe.”My body didn’t listen.Tires sc
Abigail’s POV My eyes flew open. A sharp breath tore into my lungs.My chest heaved with shallow, uneven inhales. Sweat clung to my skin, dampening the sheets as my fingers twisted in the fabric.I forced another breath, slower this time. Then another. My pulse still raced, but each second pulled me further from the nightmare that had chased me awake.The room slowly came into focus. The outline of my dresser. The faint glow of the bedside lamp. The soft curtains shifting with the night breeze.My room.A shaky exhale left me, the panic loosening its grip.It was still dark outside. I reached for my phone. The screen read 2:20 a.m.I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The cool floor grounded me. I padded down the hall into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and drank it in slow gulps.Sleep felt impossible now.I turned to head back to my room, but my gaze caught on the growing pile of gifts and letters stacked on the counter. They had been arriving for weeks. Yet I had ignor
Christian’s POV One thing had become painfully clear: I wanted Abigail by my side.No. I needed her.And yet I was terrified. Terrified that keeping her would open the door to every childhood demon I had spent years burying. Terrified that I would repeat my father’s mistakes after I had sworn I never would. I was scared of myself most of all.What I was doing was unfair to both of us.I should let her go.But every part of me craved her. Every part of me needed her.“Don’t drift off on me now, hijo,” Abuelo said, snapping me out of my thoughts.“I’m here,” I replied, straightening in the chair.He gave me a pointed look and took a slow sip of tea from the mug Martha had brought earlier. The party had finally wound down. Most guests had left after offering their congratulations. Now only family remained, and Abuelo had asked me to join him in his private sitting room.“You didn’t hear half of what I said,” he observed.I didn’t deny it. I hadn’t heard anything at all.Abuelo sighed an
Abigail’s POV He was so close that I could feel his warm breath pooling over my skin. The heat radiating from his body made my skin flush.I could feel the silent anger rolling off him. Directed at me or himself, I wasn’t sure. But I was seeing red and too furious to care.“You think I don’t want to claim you?” His voice was rough. “You think I enjoy hiding this? Every time I look at you tonight I have to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest room and reminding you exactly who you belong to.”My breath hitched. The air between us crackled, thick and electric. Even now, furious with each other, my body responded to his nearness—nipples tightening, heat pooling low in my belly. I hated how easily he could do this to me.“Then why don’t you?” I whispered, my voice trembling with anger and want. “Why do you keep pulling me close and then pushing me away? Are you scared, Christian? Scared that if you admit you want more than just my body, you’ll end up like your father?”His eyes
Christian’s POV I stood near the edge of the ballroom, only half-listening as Richard Harlan droned on about quarterly projections.His voice blurred into the string quartet and the low hum of two hundred guests in tuxedos and gowns.Drawing myself back into the conversation, I gave a clipped nod. “That aligns with our targets.”I hadn’t heard a word. My attention kept drifting across the crowd, searching for a flash of ginger hair.Nothing.The argument from earlier kept replaying in my head—my words, cold and cutting. I’d watched her face crumple, her eyes widening with that glassy flash of pain before she forced it away. The memory sat like lead in my gut.I regretted every syllable. Regretted not stopping her when she walked away. But regret didn’t change the truth I kept repeating to myself: I couldn’t want her. I wouldn’t. Wanting Abigail meant cracking open doors I had nailed shut years ago. It meant risking the same mess my father had made of every relationship he touched.
Abigail’s POV The music was louder down the hall, muffled by thick walls and distance, but I could still hear it—laughter, glasses clinking, the low hum of a party settling into itself.I knocked once before pushing Alberto’s door open.“Just me.”Alberto sat in his favorite armchair by the window, looking every bit the patriarch in his tailored tuxedo. A half-full glass of water rested on the side table beside an open book he had probably already skimmed three times.He looked up the moment I stepped inside. His expression shifted from relaxed to suspiciously amused, but the amusement faded almost instantly as his sharp eyes scanned my face.“There you are,” he said. “I was wondering how long it would take before you came to check if I’d escaped.”I shut the door behind me and moved toward him. My chest still felt tight from the hallway, from Christian’s words echoing in my ears. “It’s your party. Escaping would be a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”“For a man of seventy-five?” he sh
Christian’s POVThe last conference call ended at six-thirty.My shoulders ached. My jaw felt tight.Too many calls. Too many moving parts. Too many people expecting everything to run like clockwork.The Castillo way.I dragged a hand down my face and leaned back in my chair for a second.Silence n
Narrator’s POVCarmen rolled her shoulders as she stepped out of the private gym, tugging the elastic from her hair and letting the dark strands fall down her back. The night breeze was cool against her skin.Her muscles felt pleasantly loose after yoga.She glanced toward the parking area just in
Abigail’s POV“You can,” he insisted between licks. “And you will. Fuck, you taste like mine.”His hand came up, wrapping around my throat—not tight, just enough pressure to make my pulse race under his palm. I moaned, the dominance in his grip sending fresh heat pooling between my legs.“Yes,” I g
Abigail’s POVWarm hands wrapped around me.I should have stepped away. Said something sensible. Something firm that reminded both of us this was a terrible idea.That he wanted safe. Surface. No promises.He had said so himself.Instead I stood under the shower spray, heart thudding so loudly I co







