MasukHello 👋, new and returning readers. Your author here, please I would really love to hear a feedback from you, on what you think about the story so far in the comment section. What do you like or dislike about the story or what do you look forward to seeing in the coming chapters, looking forward to hearing back from you if you see this. ~❤️❤️
~Clarissa's POV~ The air in the office was cold. Not just physically...the AC must have been set to some New York City winter blast, making the back of my neck prickle...but the whole atmosphere had chilled, turning the earlier, frantic heat into something sharp, dangerous, and crystalline.I sat on his desk, my body already leaning back slightly as if bracing for an impact that was a foregone conclusion. The dress, my beautiful, expensive sapphire silk, was a defeated heap around my waist, the zipper a broken line of silver at my back. Above the silken prison, my breasts were exposed to the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent lights and, infinitely worse, to the consuming, predatory gaze of the man standing over me.A shiver raced through me, but it wasn't just the cold. It was the naked, visceral wrongness of the setting combined with the absolute, thrilling rightness of the attention. My cheeks felt flushed, a deep, unbecoming blush that betrayed the internal chaos, yet I didn’t...I
~Clarissa's POV~ My entire body seized. For a horrifying, mesmerizing split second, I was a statue sculpted from pure tension. My eyes, still locked on his, refused to blink, and my lips, slightly parted in a silent gasp, couldn't form a single, coherent sound. The world had narrowed down to the storm grey irises inches from mine, and the faint, intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne.God, shouldn't it be a crime somewhere for someone to look this good?For a man his age...mid-forties, I guessed, though his lifestyle had clearly bought him a few years...he was impeccably clean, gorgeous to a fault, and radiating a controlled, dangerous energy that made every hair on my arms stand up. I felt like prey being casually assessed by a predator, but a part of me...a deeply rebellious, stupid part...found the assessment thrilling.Come on, Clarissa. Snap out of it. Don't give in to his charm. Not now. Not ever.I finally mustered the courage to break the gaze, pulling my head back an i
~Clarissa's POV~ I felt like I blinked and somehow it was already Monday. The past couple of days had breezed by in a jiffy, a blur of emotional recovery fueled by Diane’s endless stream of bad TV, excellent coffee, and non-judgmental silence.Yet, even in the middle of a cheesy rom-com, my mind reeled with an endless loop of questions: What could be so important to make Victor Gonzales reach out to me first, and summon me with such urgency? He was the kind of man who had people for everything...assistants to schedule, messengers to deliver, lawyers to negotiate. He didn’t dial numbers. He didn’t request meetings; he mandated them.And now, I was just a few steps away from finding out. I stood across the street, gazing up at the massive, towering skyscraper that bore Victor's company name and logo...Magnesium Mechanics. It was a monolith of polished glass and steel, a colossal middle finger to the rest of the urban landscape. This building wasn't just an office; it was Victor's le
~Clarissa's POV~ Great, just great. Of all the damn times his call could come in, it had to be right in the middle of my emotional breakdown...my full-on, snot-and-tears, mid-life crisis on Diane’s couch.As if the universe itself was mocking me, my eyes were still locked on the screen, the name....Victor Gonzales flashing persistently like a siren in the aftermath of a storm. My hand hovered over the phone. I was clearly not in the mood for a conversation or chit-chat. My face was a blotchy, tear-stained mess, my head felt like a drum, and my entire nervous system was shot. But another part of me...the wild thing he’d spotted and called out, was intensely curious. What was so important that the formidable Victor Gonzales felt the need to reach out to me, now?“Well, who is it, Rissa? Is it really your dad?”Diane's voice broke the silence, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. I averted my gaze from the screen to look at her. She still had that confused, concerned expression,
~Clarissa's POV~ I turned, my back ramrod straight, and walked away.I headed for the door, my heels clicking a rapid, determined rhythm on the hardwood floor. Behind me, I heard the frantic sound of his voice, ragged and pleading. “Rissa, wait! Please, don’t leave! Wait!” And then, Margaret’s triumphant screech, laced with pure, unadulterated venom: “It’s about damn time! Let her go, Richard! And don’t you ever come back!” Her words propelled me forward. I didn't spare a glance backward. I grabbed my purse from the console table I’d earlier leaned on, yanked the heavy oak door open, and ran. I ran down the sprawling brownstone steps, the cold New York air hitting my face, a welcome shock that cleared the last of the hysterical fugue. I hit the street and didn't stop, sprinting a few steps before wildly flagging down a yellow cab that was gliding past. It screeched to a halt right in front of me. I scrambled inside, slamming the door shut with a solid, echoing thud. I instinctiv
~Clarissa’s POV~ The silence that descended after my words wasn't just quiet; it was a physical vacuum, a void so profound that the hum of the air conditioning unit sounded like a jet engine. I was hyper-aware of everything: The faint scent of Papa’s cologne, and the two pairs of eyes locked onto me. I didn't move. I simply stood my ground, my own gaze an unblinking, cold challenge aimed directly at Margaret. Her shock was a thing of terrifying, beautiful perfection. The triumphant smirk had vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated horror. Her mouth was slightly open, and her wide, dilated eyes reflected the overhead light, making them look like two polished stones. The woman who always wore a mask of pristine control, whose life was a carefully curated Instagram feed of domestic bliss, was utterly, irrevocably broken. It was magnificent. It was also sickening. Finally, a muscle twitched in her jaw. The color, which had drained away to a sickly parchment white,







