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Eighty Four

Penulis: Ariella's Pen
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2026-01-22 00:07:52

Teresa's POV.

The car was a bubble of quiet intensity, sealed off from the too-bright morning outside. I should have been exhausted after the chaos of last night—the confrontation with his family, the shouting, the bizarre kidnapping. But instead, my nerves were humming, my mind sharp and clear. Mark sat beside me, his posture stiff, trying so hard to look serious and focused that it was almost comical. I had a pile of files balanced on my lap and my tablet open, the screen glowing.

“Okay,” I s
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  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Ninety Eight

    Teresa's POV The blood drained from my face. My hands started to shake. This wasn’t Evelyn’s frantic, emotional style. This was cold, pointed, and far more frightening. I didn’t reply. I turned on my heel and started back toward the hotel, my pace fast, almost a jog.---Mark wasn’t in the room when I returned. The emptiness was a relief and a new source of anxiety. I paced, the cryptic messages burning in my mind.About twenty minutes later, the door opened. It wasn’t Mark. It was Anthony, holding a small paper bag. “Mr. Rexona asked me to bring you this. He said you might not have eaten.” He placed the bag on the side table—it smelled of fresh pastry and coffee. He didn’t leave immediately, his posture alert but not intrusive.“Thank you, Anthony,” I said, my voice tight.“Ma’am.” He gave a short nod. As he turned to leave, his sleeve pulled back slightly, revealing a thick, ropy scar that ran from his wrist up his forearm. A old, violent injury. Our eyes met for a fraction of a se

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Ninety Seven

    Teresa's POV When he finally ended the call, the silence rushed back in. He looked at me, his expression expectant, as if waiting for my gratitude.“You okay?” he asked.I hesitated, choosing my words. “I don’t know.”He frowned slightly, a line appearing between his brows. “Why?”“Because this doesn’t feel over,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the phone in his hand. “It feels like it just shifted. From a person to a… a system. A threat you have to manage 24/7.”He walked back to the bed and sat on the edge beside me. The mattress dipped under his weight. He reached for my hand, his fingers warm and dry as they closed over mine, squeezing gently.“I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. This is what that looks like.”“I know,” I said, pulling my hand back to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, breaking the contact. “That’s not what I’m scared of.”His hand remained where it was, empty now. His gaze sharpened. “Then what are you scared of?”I searched his face—the familiar, h

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Ninety Seven

    Teresa's POV I woke up slowly, not because I was well rested, but because my body ached in that quiet, warm way that was a detailed map of the night before. My back felt sore, a dull throb from being held against the headboard. My thighs felt heavy, muscles remembering the strain of holding him close. My skin felt sensitive everywhere, a phantom memory of his hands and mouth, like I’d been touched too much and not enough at the same time.The room was gray with early morning light. Not bright yet. Just enough to see shapes—the rumpled sheets, the dark shape of his suit jacket thrown over a chair, the sharp lines of his phone on the nightstand. The curtains barely moved with the conditioned air from the vent. The city outside was quiet, a low hum that hadn’t yet built into daytime roar.Mark was still asleep.That alone felt strange, like catching a predator off guard.I turned my head on the pillow to look at him. He lay on his back, one arm thrown heavily across my waist. It wasn’t

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Ninety Five

    Teresa's POV “It is in this room,” he said, and without another word, he guided me gently but firmly away from the desk and toward the large bed. “Sit.”I sat on the edge of the mattress, mostly because my legs felt suddenly unsteady. He didn’t go far; he sat down right beside me, so close that our thighs pressed together from hip to knee. The heat of his body was immediate and comforting.The playfulness faded, leaving the raw truth between us. “I’m scared,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands in my lap.He turned his body toward me, his full attention like a physical weight. “Of what? Tell me.”“That I’m stepping into a space that was never really empty,” I whispered. “That one day, someone from your past—Evelyn or someone else—will come back with a legitimate claim. Or that I’ll always feel temporary. Like a placeholder until your real life resumes.”“That will never happen,” he said, his voice absolute.“You can’t know that for sure.”“I do,” he stated, leaving no room for a

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Ninety Four

    Teresa's POV I came back to the hotel room much later than I had intended. The city lights had fully come on, painting the hallway in a dim, golden glow. I stood outside the door for a full minute, my hand raised, knuckles hovering an inch from the wood. I felt like a stranger, unsure if I was still allowed to enter. I hadn’t texted. I hadn’t called. I had just walked, and thought, and finally turned my feet back toward him, hoping he would still be there.The door swung open almost before I could finish knocking.Mark stood in the doorway. He looked like he hadn’t moved since I left. His shirt was slightly wrinkled, his hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, and his eyes were dark and intense.“Where were you?” he asked.His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t gentle either. It was tight, strained, like a wire pulled too far.“I told you,” I said, my own voice quiet. “I needed air.”“You were gone for three hours and twenty-two minutes,” he said, his gaze scan

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Ninety Three

    Teresa's POV That shut him up. He visibly recoiled, his face going pale. He gave a single, stiff nod.I walked past him to my suitcase, unzipped it, and pulled out simple clothes: jeans, a plain long-sleeved top, sneakers. I changed quickly in the bathroom, my hands shaking slightly as I fumbled with buttons. I splashed cold water on my face, avoiding my own red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.When I came out, he was still standing in the same spot, but now his arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle working. He looked more lost than angry.“I won’t be long,” I said, my voice softer now, drained.He nodded once, his eyes fixed on a point on the wall behind me. “I’ll be here.”“Don’t follow me,” I said, needing the boundary to be explicit.“I won’t,” he said, though the words seemed to cost him.I didn’t fully believe him—his nature was to protect, to control, to fix—but I didn’t have the energy left for another argument. I simply walked

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