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CHAPTER 28 : THE OFFERING AND THE FORTRESS
publish date:
2026-02-26 00:34:48
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Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 79 : THE SHADOW OF STONES 2
DianeHe continues, arriving at a double door at the other end of the corridor.— My quarters.He pushes them open. The space is even vaster, but slightly darker. The tones shift from white-gray to anthracite gray. The bed is a low platform. An immense wall-to-wall bookshelf is filled with uniformly bound books—law, finance, history texts—arranged by size, creating a hypnotic pattern. A massive mahogany desk sits facing a panoramic window. It's the only room that bears a vague imprint, not of a personality, but of an activity: that of the predator planning.He closes the doors without inviting me to enter further.— And here is your room, he says, stopping before a door, two further down.He opens it.It's a near copy of the guest rooms, slightly larger. The same white bed, the same dresser, the same picture window offering a dizzying view of the park. The only difference: the bathroom has a frees
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 78 : THE SHADOW OF STONES 1
DianeThe front door, a massive block of dark wood and brushed metal, vanishes into the wall without a sound. The entrance that opens steals the breath from my lungs. It's a cathedral hall, of calculated coldness. The floor is polished mirror-gray marble, reflecting the glass and steel structure of the ceiling, ten meters above. White, bare walls rise toward this vault. The space is so vast, so stark, that our twin silhouettes standing within it seem an intrusion, a stain of imperfection.He stands slightly ahead of me, silent, letting the impression swallow me. He watches my face, I can feel it. I strive to show nothing, but my skin must be paling further under the raw, diffused light falling from the glazed skies. The air smells clean, neutral, a scent of air conditioning and cold stone. No smell of life, of wood fire, of wax, of cooking. Nothing.— There, he finally says, his voice echoing slightly in the void. The Glass Sphere. My lair.He begin
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 77 : THE ENTRANCE
DianeLanding is a controlled fall ending in a jolt, a groan of brakes, then the slow roll of the plane on the taxiway. The implacable blue of the sky has been replaced by a uniform gray, typical of northern skies. Through the porthole, I see hangars, other private jets, and in the distance, the silhouette of a ultra-modern terminal. We're not at a commercial airport. It's a private airfield, one of those places where money buys invisibility.He seems to have pulled himself together during the flight. The distraction, the contemplation I perceived in his silence have disappeared, replaced by an implacable concentration. He packs his documents, turns off his computer, and his gaze, when it rests on me, has become an evaluation tool again, cold and precise.— We're arriving, he announces, as if I could ignore it. Straighten up. You look exhausted.Another order. I put a hand to my chignon, check that not a hair is out of place. I straighten my back, e
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 76: THE SHADOW AND THE PREY
Dimitri VolkovThe jet slices through the azure with the precision of a scalpel. I should be working. Reports from my captains in New York and London await. The night's financial flows need analysis. Yet, the file remains open, the numbers dancing meaninglessly before my eyes.My gaze is drawn, again and again, to her.Diane.Sitting on the other side of the teak table, she stares at the nebulous view through the porthole. She hasn't moved since she finished eating. Her profile is spectrally pale, sculpted from cold wax. The shadows under her eyes, purple on skin too fair, are like bruises left by the night. Her hands, placed flat on her knees, are absolutely still. She looks like she's no longer breathing.So fragile. The thought imposes itself, as unwelcome as a blade.I've crushed financial empires. I've broken men as hard as granite. I've watched rivals disappear from the face of the earth without flinching. Fragility has n
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 75 : THE ICY ASCENT
DianeThe shower is a space of cold, impersonal marble. The water is too hot, almost scalding, but it can't pierce the cold that has settled within me. It runs over my skin like over porcelain, without penetrating. I soap myself mechanically, erasing the last traces of the hotel room, of its sheets, of that endless night. I wash my hair, the neutral shampoo scent replacing the heady scent of the places of my defeat.I dry myself with a thick, rough towel. I put on the clothes left for me on a bench: a soft wool trouser suit, anthracite, an ivory silk blouse, simple cotton underwear. Undeniably quality clothes that don't belong to me. Each piece is another layer of the uniform he assigns me.When I emerge, my hair still damp tied in a strict chignon, he waits for me in the private lounge. He looks up from his laptop. His gaze, as efficient as a scanner, travels over me from head to toe, checking the outfit, the bearing, the attitude.—
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 74: THE ICE FACTORY
DianeThe night stretches on, a desert of salty tears and cold sheets. I cry until exhaustion, until my eyes are burning and dry, until my throat is a raw wound. I cry for Liam. I cry for my father, somewhere, knowing nothing. I cry for the woman I was before being brought here, a woman whose face is beginning to blur in my memory.Dawn finally filters through the heavy curtains, gray and weak. I'm lying on my side, eyes open, staring at the wall. Fatigue is a lead weight in every bone, every muscle. A dull torpor has replaced the storm. I have no more tears. Only a residue remains, an emotional limescale weighing on my eyelids.The bedroom door opens without a sound.I don't move. I don't even turn my head. I hear his muffled steps on the carpet, approaching the bed.He stops beside me. I feel his gaze on my back, on the nape of my neck I offer him, a passive target.— Get up.His voice is neutral, morning-like. T
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