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20. WE DON'T TALK ABOUT ROBERT

مؤلف: Ify Francis
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-03-20 17:37:23

Her eyes were khaki brown in the morning light, but they deepened to a coffee dark when they were darkened by desire- with lust. Davis didn’t know when it started happening.

When her laughter became something he waited for. It was his favorite soundtrack; like tiny Christmas bells. It didn't matter if a joke was dry or the punchline fell flat; he just loved the way the sound vibrated in the air between them. Davis would have given anything in the world to hear her whisper his name in that bre
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  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   61. WILLSON STREET

    The sharp hiss of the pneumatic doors announced the stop, and Davis stepped down from the coast liner, the cool damp air of the evening cutting through his clothes. The bus rattled off into the twilight, leaving him on the curb with a handful of other weary passengers.He took a slow breath, pulling his hoodie tight around his neck. For a man who was used to black-car services and private drivers, riding public transit in a small town was a stark reality check. But keeping a low profile was necessary.....Was it? Chelsea had already spotted him—worse, she’d slept with him, played him like a fool, and slipped out before dawn. But if he started driving high-end rental cars around her quiet neighborhood, she would go to ground completely. He had to stay invisible until he was ready to strike.As he walked down the dimly lit pavement toward the guest house, his mind betrayed him, looping back to the night before. God, she was beautiful. The memory of her skin beneath his hands, the way s

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   60. ANGER WILL KEEP US SAFE

    The morning light cut through the thin hotel curtains like a pale blade, burning away the lingering shadows of the night. Chelsea’s eyes snapped open.Beside her, Davis was still deeply asleep, his broad chest rising and falling in heavy, rhythmic cycles. The sharp, bitter scent of stale scotch clung to his skin. He wouldn't be waking up anytime soon—the five shots of Hungarian liquor, combined with the absolute physical exhaustion of the night, had guaranteed a heavy hangover.This is your chance to escape, her mind screamed.She crept out from beneath the heavy duvet, slipping silently onto the cold floor. She gathered her discarded clothes scattered across the rug—her shirt, her jeans, her boots—and pulled them on with trembling, frantic haste. Every creak of the floorboards sent a sharp spike of adrenaline straight to her chest. If she left now, she could get to her father and her little girl, pack their bags, and vanish into another sleepy town before Davis even managed to pull h

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   59. REKINDLED

    "I'm so sorry, Miss Chelsea," the tired young night clerk said with a sympathetic grimace behind the hotel counter. "The storm warning brought in a rush of travelers. We’re completely filled up tonight.""That's fine, Scott," Chelsea said smoothly, hiding the spike of tension in her jaw. "Just give me my room key, please."She took the brass key card, turning to look at Davis, who was leaning heavily against the oak railing of the lobby stairs, looking thoroughly wrecked."I'll lend you my suite for the night," she said softly, reaching out to catch his elbow to steady him. "I won't be staying in it tonight anyway."Davis let out a hollow, breathy sound that might have been a scoff, allowing her to guide him up the narrow staircase. The hotel was a small, creaky affair, brimming with mid-century charm—tight stairwells, brass fixtures, and a faint smell of aged cedar and sea salt. Chelsea moved with an acute, trembling sense of urgency that didn't match her soft voice."Must be... rea

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   58. THE ONLY WAY OUT

    It felt like a quenched fire finding life again just when you were sure you had snuffed out the very last ember. Inside the cramped, wood-paneled warmth of The Cheryl Pub, the low hum of the evening rush felt miles away, drowned out by the thudding of her own pulse against her ribs.There he sat.In a faded, charcoal-gray hoodie that hid the sharp breadth of his shoulders, a heavy glass of scotch clutched in his long fingers, Davis looked like an apparition dragged straight out of the life she’d burned to the ground twelve months ago. His lips were parted, his piercing blue eyes wide with a staggering mix of exhaustion, disbelief, and raw vulnerability.How did he find me? Why now?Panic clawed at her throat, a suffocating, instinctual terror that threatened to strip away her composure. She couldn't run—not right this second. He had seen her. If she bolted now, he’d chase her, and if he chased her, he’d follow the breadcrumbs straight to the tiny, shingled cottage three miles up the c

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   57. THE MAN IN GRAY HOODIE

    The Harbor Lights Festival had transformed the island's night air into a chaotic electric hum, turning The Cheryl pub into a hive of nonstop activity. During the festive season, tourists were hardly ever asleep, flooding every entertainment space, bar, and diner until well past midnight. For the kitchen staff, this meant extra work, sweltering heat near the ovens, and a relentless barrage of urgent yelling. Service slips fluttered continuously from the order wheel, and every few minutes, someone barked out a rush order for fries, sliders, or draft beers.Davis sauntered into the packed, dimly lit interior, taking a slow breath to anchor his nerves. He was dressed far down wearing a simple gray hoodie pulled slightly low over his face. Keeping his head down, his sharp dark eyes carefully scanned the room, moving over the wooden booths and crowded tables. He braced himself, half-expecting someone—a tourist or a local—to recognize his face from business journals or city news. But here,

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   56. THE SHELTER ISLAND

    Davis spent the night before their departure locked in his home study, conducting a meticulous, quiet research campaign on Shelter Island. It was a small, tightly-knit sanctuary—a geographic enclave where the arrival of an out-of-town entourage would spread like wildfire through the local grapevine. If he turned up with his usual corporate contingent, the news would reach every corner of the island within hours. Chelsea would know he was present before his boots even hit the pavement, and she would vanish again.He made a hard, non-negotiable decision: he was going alone. No Julia to manage the trunks, no Amber to schedule the itinerary, and no João to clear a path through the crowds.The journey the next day was a stripped-down, logistical puzzle. Davis, Robert, and Kimberley boarded a private charter flight in the early morning, landing at a small airstrip on Long Island before making their way to the ferry terminal. Without his usual staff to shoulder the burdens of travel, the phy

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   1. THE BIG BREAK

    “Davis, I think we should take a break.”Elena did not choose her office because it was romantic. But he had dropped by and it was the perfect opportunity to make such an announcement since they rarely saw much of each other these days. Her words landed gently, yet they cracked something loud and

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   4. HOPE AND DISMAY

    Chelsea bolted in through the glass doors of the clinic panting breathlessly. The clinic buzzed with controlled chaos—rolling carts, murmured diagnoses, sharp footsteps echoing down white corridors that smelled faintly of antiseptic and burnt coffee. It was nothing like the small facility she had

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   3. ELEVATOR ROMANCE

    Chelsea’s heart was still racing when the elevator doors finally slid shut. Her cheeks were flushing red.Not because she had almost missed it—but because of him.She clutched the pink lunch bag closer to her chest, willing her breathing to slow. This was supposed to be quick. Drop off lunch. Kiss

  • THE JANITOR'S DAUGHTER: Mistress for the CEO   2. FINDING A DATE

    By the time Davis got to work, the ache from the morning had hardened into something sharp and reckless.It was the kind of ache he recognized too well. It settled into him the way neglect always had, carving out a familiar hollow in his chest. He had learned long ago that when something hurt and r

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