เข้าสู่ระบบSophia’s voice wouldn’t leave his head. Two weeks. We’re doing it now. The words just bounced around the empty chambers of his skull like loose coins, heavy and annoying and completely loud. A strategic marriage. A quick fix to get his signatures back. A shield to block the woman currently sleeping just two hallways down from him.It was all supposed to make perfect sense on paper. He was supposed to feel relieved, or maybe a little bit powerful, or at least like he had a plan. Instead, he just felt sick. The kind of deep, oily nausea that settles right into your bones after you realize you’ve sold the last piece of yourself to a machine that doesn't even care about your name.The main villa was completely suffocating tonight. Because of some stupid, drawn-out board retreat his father insisted on hosting for the weekend, Marcus had been forced to take his old bedroom on the second floor. He couldn't remember the last time he’d stayed here overnight. The air in the room felt thick,
The hotel room smelled of expensive travel leather, heavy London rain clinging to wool, and the sharp, clinical bite of Sophia’s signature perfume. It was a suffocatingly upscale suite tucked away in the hills above Cannes, the kind of place where the thick drapes were specifically designed to block out the Mediterranean sun, keeping the world permanently dim and quiet.Sophia didn’t look like someone who had just spent four hours trapped on a private flight. Her hair was pulled back into a flawless, severe twist. Her tailored traveling coat was neatly draped over the back of the sofa, entirely devoid of wrinkles. She looked like a woman who had everything under control.Until she looked at him.The moment Marcus stepped through the door, her eyes locked onto his wrinkled linen shirt. She tracked the faint, sticky bourbon stain near his cuff, then moved up to the raw, bloodshot look in his eyes.She stopped dead in the middle of the plush cream carpet. "You look like a corpse someo
He did not remember walking down the driveway. He just suddenly found himself gripping the cold steering wheel of his car. His knuckles were completely numb. The engine was roaring way too loud in the silent estate. He tore down the winding coastal roads blindly. He was going way too fast. The tires shrieked violently against the asphalt on every single tight hairpin turn. He didn't even try to tap the brakes. A sick part of him actually wanted the heavy car to just lose traction completely. He wanted it to launch right over the low stone retaining wall. A quick, brutal plunge into the freezing black Mediterranean water below seemed like a fantastic idea. It was certainly a hell of a lot better than going back to his empty, silent apartment to choke on his own disgusting thoughts.The image of that green satin robe was permanently burned into his retinas. He kept seeing the pale swell of her chest. He kept hearing that wet, heavy sound her voice made when she told him she was goi
He froze in his steps. The voice wasn't loud. It was soft. Almost casual. But it completely paralyzed him. He didn't want to turn around. He really didn't. His brain was screaming at him to just keep walking down the stairs and pretend he didn't hear anything. Just walk away and get in the car. But his body betrayed him. It always did when it came to her. He rotated slowly on the balls of his feet. The thick carpet felt like quicksand pulling him down.And then he saw her.The breath actually left his lungs in a sharp, pathetic wheeze. He almost choked on his own saliva. She was standing right there in the doorway. The warm golden light from the master bedroom was spilling out directly behind her. It framed her like some sort of cruel, untouchable painting in the dark hallway. Her hair was a complete mess. It was pulled up into this loose, scattered bun, with dark strands sticking to her damp neck and falling haphazardly across her collarbone. She looked completely wrecked. She l
The clock on the dashboard of his car was glowing a harsh blue. It said 3:42 AM. The heavy leather folder sitting on the passenger seat next to him felt like it weighed fifty pounds. Marcus dragged a shaking hand down his face. His eyes were burning like someone had poured sand directly under his eyelids. He had spent the last seven unbroken hours cross-referencing the new Vandermeer routing codes just like she demanded. Every single number was perfectly aligned. Every column checked twice. He had skipped dinner. He hadn't even had a glass of water since 2 o'clock.Damien wanted the finalized manifests on his desk before the early morning executive meetings. He didn't have a choice. He had to deliver them tonight.The security gates of the estate hummed open with a low mechanical whine. Marcus drove his car up the winding path. The gravel driveway crunched loudly under his tires. It sounded way too loud in the dead of the night. The massive villa was mostly dark. Just the low secu
The clock on the dashboard of his car was glowing a harsh blue. It said 3:42 AM. The heavy leather folder sitting on the passenger seat next to him felt like it weighed fifty pounds. Marcus dragged a shaking hand down his face. His eyes were burning like someone had poured sand directly under his eyelids. He had spent the last seven unbroken hours cross-referencing the new Vandermeer routing codes just like she demanded. Every single number was perfectly aligned. Every column checked twice. He had skipped dinner. He hadn't even had a glass of water since 2 o'clock.Damien wanted the finalized manifests on his desk before the early morning executive meetings. He didn't have a choice. He had to deliver them tonight.The security gates of the estate hummed open with a low mechanical whine. Marcus drove his car up the winding path. The gravel driveway crunched loudly under his tires. It sounded way too loud in the dead of the night. The massive villa was mostly dark. Just the low secu
“Tonight would be perfect, “ Diane whispered to her reflectionThe air in the Sporting d'Été was thick with the scent of gardenias and desperation. It’s funny how much money you have to spend just to look like you care about people who have none. Diane stood at the top of the grand staircase, watc
The air in the boardroom always felt like it had been filtered through a stack of hundred-dollar bills. Cold. Sterile. Slightly recycled. It was the kind of room that made you want to check if your heart was still beating. Diane sat to the immediate right of Damien, her posture a masterpiece of q
The morning was going too smoothly. That should have been the first warning. Diane was sitting at the granite desk, the one that felt more like a throne every day, reviewing the latest acquisition charts. Then the shouting started. It was muffled at first, just a low rumble vibrating through the s
The sun hadn’t even fully cleared the horizon when Diane reached the executive suite. It was that blue, bruised hour of the morning where the glass towers of Monaco look like frozen ghosts. She liked the office best when it was empty. No egos to manage, no performance to give for Damien. Just the







