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BOOK TEN: HIS PRIVATE PROPERTY

مؤلف: Ava Sterling
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-07-26 17:06:20

Sienna Reyes had been in the building for four days and already knew two things with absolute certainty.

First: Kane Industries ran on fear and precision.

Second: Adrian Kane looked at her like he was already deciding how he was going to ruin her.

He was forty-five, tall enough that she had to tilt her head when he stood close, and built like a man who had never once been soft in his life. The black suit he wore that morning was cut close to his shoulders and chest; the tattoos she had only g
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    The door clicked shut behind Rory, sealing her inside Jax Draven’s private quarters. The room was sparsely furnished but unmistakably his — dark tones, a large bed against one wall, weapons carefully stored on a side rack, and the faint scent of his cologne mixed with gun oil. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Then Jax moved. He closed the distance in one stride, cupping her face with both hands and kissing her like a man starved. There was nothing gentle about it. This kiss was deep, desperate, and full of all the frustration he had been holding back all day. Rory moaned into his mouth, her hands sliding up his bare chest, feeling every hard ridge of muscle. “I’ve been going insane all day,” he growled against her lips, walking her backward toward the bed. “Watching him touch you. Call you his. It took everything I had not to drag you away and fuck you in front of him.” Rory’s robe slipped off her shoulders as he pushed it down. She stood before him completely nak

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    The rest of the afternoon dragged on like a slow torture. Rory spent hours in the formal sitting room with Julian, going over wedding plans that felt more like a business contract than a celebration of love. He spoke about the venue — a grand ballroom in one of the city’s most exclusive hotels — the guest list that included politicians, underworld bosses, and influential businessmen, and the honeymoon in the Maldives. Every word made her stomach twist. While Julian droned on about flower choices and seating arrangements, Rory’s mind kept drifting back to the alcove. To Jax’s possessive growl. To the way his body had caged hers. To the terrifying promise in his eyes when he said he would kill Julian before letting her marry him. She crossed her legs tightly, trying to ignore the persistent ache between her thighs. “You seem distracted, Aurora,” Julian said suddenly, his sharp blue eyes narrowing. He reached across the table and took her hand. His touch felt cold compared to Jax’s

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    Rory’s hands trembled slightly as she smoothed down her elegant cream-colored dress. The high neckline successfully hid most of Jax’s marks, but every time the fabric brushed against her skin, she remembered his mouth, his teeth, his hands claiming her. She hated how much she craved more. The front doors opened and Julian Voss stepped inside like he already owned the place. Tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit, with sharp features and cold blue eyes. He was handsome in a polished, almost artificial way. Everything about him screamed wealth and control. “Darling,” Julian said smoothly, taking her hand and pressing a dry kiss to her knuckles. “You look beautiful as always.” Rory forced a smile. “Julian. I wasn’t expecting you until this evening.” “I rearranged my schedule. We have wedding details to finalize.” His grip on her hand tightened just a fraction too much. “Your father wants this alliance sealed quickly.” From the corner of the hallway, Rory felt the burn of

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    The first rays of morning light filtered through the heavy silk curtains of Aurora Sinclair’s bedroom. She stirred slowly, her body aching in the most delicious and sinful ways. Every shift of her hips sent a reminder between her legs — a deep, tender soreness that made her cheeks flush even though she was alone. She sat up, wincing slightly, and touched her neck. The marks were there. Dark hickeys and the faint imprint of teeth. Jax had claimed her last night like a man possessed, and her body still carried the evidence. “Shit…” she whispered, rushing to her mirror. There was no hiding all of them. Three prominent marks on her neck and collarbone, plus more scattered across her breasts and inner thighs. She quickly chose a high-necked blouse and applied extra concealer, her heart racing the entire time. What had she done? She had let her father’s most dangerous enforcer fuck her raw against the hallway wall — and she had loved every brutal second of it. A knock on her door mad

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    The heavy oak door of her father’s study clicked shut behind Aurora Sinclair, leaving her heart hammering in the dimly lit hallway. The mansion was quiet tonight, but the air felt charged, thick with the scent of aged whiskey, cigar smoke, and something far more dangerous. Jax Draven. He stood at the end of the corridor like a shadow given form — tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating raw power. His black shirt was rolled up to his elbows, revealing corded forearms marked with old scars. Those piercing grey eyes locked onto her instantly, dark and unreadable. Rory’s breath caught. She shouldn’t be here. She should be upstairs preparing for another tedious dinner with her fiancé, Julian Voss. But her feet moved toward Jax anyway, as if pulled by an invisible chain. “You shouldn’t be wandering alone this late, Rory,” Jax said, his voice low and rough. He didn’t move as she approached, but his jaw tightened. “I couldn’t sleep.” She stopped just inches away, close enough to feel the

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    They stayed at the lake house for nine days. Nine days of quiet water and slow mornings. Nine days of cooking simple meals, of reading in shared silence, of making love without the sharp edge of secrecy or scandal pressing against the windows. The city’s noise felt distant here. The photographs, the headlines, the whispered judgments—all of it softened into something they could finally breathe around. On the morning of the tenth day, Damien stood at the glass wall overlooking the lake and read Victor’s message again. **I’m ready. My office. Tomorrow, 10 a.m. Come alone.** Elara slipped her arms around him from behind, cheek pressed to his bare back. “You’re going.” “I am.” “And then you’re coming back to me.” Damien turned in her arms, cupped her face, and kissed her with the steady certainty that had settled into him over the past week. “Every time,” he said. “For the rest of my life.” --- Victor’s office looked the same as it had the day the photographs first landed betwe

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