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Chapter 46 : The Wager 1
publish date:
2026-03-11 19:35:47
Latest chapter
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 70 : THE SILENCE OF THE DEAD 1
DianeThe silence after the gunshot is a living entity. It settles, dense, heavy, replacing the very air. It absorbs the last echo of my own broken voice, the guards' grunts, Volkov's breathing. It clings to the padded walls, the silk drapes, making everything deaf, muffled, unreal.My knees are embedded in the implacable cold of the marble. The sensation, sharp and clear, is the only real thing. It anchors me to this moment, prevents me from tipping into the void where my mind wants to flee. Before me, Liam's form. I don't look at him. I can't. If I look, it will be true. So I stare at the join between two tiles, a fine line of gray mortar.The blood, however, doesn't ask permission. It advances, slow, inexorable, tracing a sinuous path in the white veins of the marble. A dark, shiny ribbon seeking its way into the void. Soon, its edge touches my skin. A viscous, intimate warmth spreads against my knee. The contact is an electrocution. Reality str
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 69 : THE EXECUTION 2
DianeThe blows rain down, methodical, professional. They aren't aimed at knocking him out right away, but at hurting. At humiliating. A knee to the stomach. A kick behind the knee that makes him collapse onto the marble floor. They pull him up only to strike him again. Liam's head sways back and forth under the impacts. The sound of fists on flesh, of bones cracking, is horribly intimate.— Please! Stop! I beg you! I scream, I cry, I writhe in Volkov's embrace. My cries echo in the immense suite, mingling with the dull grunts of the blows and Liam's raspy breathing.Liam doesn't scream. He takes it in silence, eyes half-closed, his gaze sometimes lost, sometimes finding mine in a flash of consciousness. And in that gaze, through the pain, I see something that finishes tearing me apart: not reproach. A strange pity. As if he could see that my suffering, at that moment, was worse than his own.— You see? murmurs Volkov, his mouth
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 68 : THE EXECUTION 1
DianeVolkov's violence is methodical. It's not passionate, it's punitive. Each thrust is a punch, each withdrawal a tearing away. He twists my wrists, bites the skin of my shoulder until it bleeds, turning my body into a silent battlefield. I don't cry. I don't scream. I count the seconds in my head, I take refuge in the cold accounting of horror. I am the marble he's trying to crack.When he finishes his work, with a grunt that sounds more like a groan of anger than a cry of pleasure, he withdraws brutally and gets up from the bed without a glance at me. He puts on his silk robe like armor.— You thought he gave you a gift? he says, his back turned as he pours himself another cognac. He only gave you a reason to suffer more deeply.I remain lying on the rumpled, stained sheets, limbs heavy, flesh bruised. I feel the blood drying on my shoulder, the dull ache deep in my belly. But worse than anything, I feel the seed of hatred he has
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 67 : THE PROOF 2
DianeHe joins me on the bed, his weight insinuating itself beside me. His hands begin their exploration again, more insistent now. They knead my flesh through the silk of my panties, then slide beneath. His fingers find me, begin their work with the same expert precision as his lips. I feel my body, traitor, react. It's a physiological response, disconnected from me. A closed circuit he has activated. I let him. I look at the ceiling adorned with gold moldings, I count the rosettes.His mood, until now controlled, satisfied, seems to heat up as my body, despite myself, betrays a certain form of receptivity. His breath grows rougher against my neck. His kisses become less measured, more eager. There's an eagerness emerging, that of the man who wants not only to possess, but to consume.— My wife, he growls in my ear, parting my legs with his free hand.He positions himself between my thighs. I feel the weight of his body, the pressure
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 66 : THE PROOF 1
DianeThe suite is too silent. A cathedral silence, heavy, where every sound from the city below seems muffled by the thick silk curtains and deep carpets. I remain standing before the picture window, my palms still pressed against the cold glass, until the heat of my skin leaves two fleeting halos of mist.Time stretches, elastic. I could stay like this for an eternity, a statue of satin and diamonds in its jewel box. But I know this is only a respite. Waiting is part of the ritual.The sound of the key in the lock is discreet, but it tears through the silence like a gunshot. I don't start. I don't turn around immediately. I wait for the door to open, for the space to fill with his presence.Volkov enters without haste. He has taken off his jacket, his tie is loosened. He holds a cognac glass, which he sets down with a small click on the gilded console. His gaze travels over me, from the impeccable chignon to the train of the dress spread o
Désiré Me 2 CHAPTER 65 : THE ICE WIFE 2
DianeThen comes the dress. It glides over my skin like a second skin, colder than the first. The satin molds to every curve, encases me, transforms me into a statue. The tiara is placed on my forehead, a cold that radiates to my temples. The diamonds of the earrings catch the light, throwing tiny, cold flashes.When it's finished, I stand and turn to the full-length mirror.The transformation is absolute. I am magnificent. Frightening in my perfection. A princess from an ice fairy tale. No trace of the woman who screamed and sobbed on a parquet floor a few hours earlier. No trace of Diane.Madame Alia steps back, a rare gleam of approval in her eyes.— Perfect. They are waiting for you downstairs.I descend the stairs, one light hand on the banister so as not to trip on the too-long hem. Each step is measured. I feel the weight of the tiara, the tension of the satin on my shoulders. I focus on these physical sensations s
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