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หน้าหลัก / Romance / The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss / twenty four

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twenty four

ผู้เขียน: lily97000
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2025-08-29 10:16:09

The simple affirmation hung between them like a sword waiting to fall. Henry studied her with the intensity of a scholar attempting to translate a dead language, searching for meaning in every micro-expression.

“Will you at least illuminate your reasoning?” he asked, his voice softening to something approaching vulnerability.

Lavinia consulted her watch with theatrical precision. “I have a conference call scheduled momentarily. Perhaps we might address this at a more convenient time?”

The deflection was transparent to both parties, yet she wielded it with the skill of a diplomat avoiding an international incident. Henry straightened, frustration radiating from him in waves that she felt rather than saw.

“This conversation remains unfinished, Lavinia.”

She acknowledged his statement with a single nod before returning her attention to her screen—a dismissal so complete it required no words. She heard his hesitation, the weight of unspoken w
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  • The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss    twenty five

    “There’s nothing seamless about abandonment, Ms. Hartwell,” he replied, finally meeting her gaze with eyes that had turned cold as winter stone.The use of her surname felt like a slap. “I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m making a career decision based on my own professional goals and aspirations.”“Goals and aspirations that conveniently remove you from my life entirely.”“This isn’t about you,” she insisted, though the lie burned her throat like acid.Henry stood slowly, his movements controlled but radiating tension. “Everything about this is about me, and we both know it. You’ve been pulling away for weeks, becoming more distant by the day. The question is why.”“People change,” she said simply. “Priorities evolve.”“Not yours,” he countered with certainty that made her want to scream. “Not like this.”Something in his presumption, his absolute conviction that he knew her better than she knew herself, sparked the anger s

  • The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss    twenty four

    The simple affirmation hung between them like a sword waiting to fall. Henry studied her with the intensity of a scholar attempting to translate a dead language, searching for meaning in every micro-expression.“Will you at least illuminate your reasoning?” he asked, his voice softening to something approaching vulnerability.Lavinia consulted her watch with theatrical precision. “I have a conference call scheduled momentarily. Perhaps we might address this at a more convenient time?”The deflection was transparent to both parties, yet she wielded it with the skill of a diplomat avoiding an international incident. Henry straightened, frustration radiating from him in waves that she felt rather than saw.“This conversation remains unfinished, Lavinia.”She acknowledged his statement with a single nod before returning her attention to her screen—a dismissal so complete it required no words. She heard his hesitation, the weight of unspoken w

  • The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss    twenty three

    The first winter frost had claimed the night, leaving behind crystalline signatures across the office windows like nature’s own calligraphy. Lavinia Hartwell traced one delicate pattern with her fingertip, watching her breath fog the glass as she waited for her computer to emerge from its electronic slumber. Eight fifty-eight in the morning—not a heartbeat sooner, not a whisper later. This punctuality had become her armor these past three weeks, each precisely timed arrival a small declaration of independence.The familiar percussion of Henry Wynthorne’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, their rhythm as recognizable to her as her own heartbeat. She pivoted toward her screen with practiced grace, fingers dancing across keys in a performance of productivity while her peripheral vision caught his shadow darkening her doorway.“Good morning, Lavinia.” His voice carried an uncertainty that would have been foreign to her ears mere weeks ago—Henry Wynthorne, heir to Wynt

  • The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss    twenty two

    Friday morning, Lavinia arrived to find a small pastry box on her desk—her favorite almond croissants from the bakery three blocks away. Henry must have gone out of his way to get them before work. There was no note, just the box with its familiar logo.For a moment, she stared at it, her chest tight. This was Henry’s way of making amends for whatever he thought he’d done wrong. It was exactly the kind of thoughtful gesture that had made her fall in love with him in the first place—small, personal, never showy.She carried the box to the break room and left it open on the counter with a small handwritten note: Help yourselves! – L.W. When Henry arrived and stopped by her desk, his expression hopeful, Lavinia thanked him politely for the croissants and mentioned that she’d shared them with the staff.“Oh,” he said, his smile faltering slightly. “I thought those were your favorite.”“They are,” she acknowledged. “It was kind of you to remember. The team appreciated them as well.”She

  • The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss    twenty one

    Monday morning felt strange—like putting on clothes that no longer fit quite right. Lavinia went through the motions she’d done a thousand times before: hot shower that she let run longer than necessary, coffee that tasted bitter despite the same two sugars, the ritual of pinning her hair into its customary bun. Each movement felt deliberate now, chosen rather than automatic.The charcoal suit she pulled from her closet was newer, sharper than what she usually wore to Wynthorne Enterprises. She’d bought it months ago but never found the right occasion. Today felt right—all clean lines and no-nonsense tailoring. The woman looking back at her from the mirror wore confidence like armor, even if underneath she felt like she was playing dress-up.Twelve minutes to work. Same route she’d walked for two years, past the coffee cart where Miguel always waved, around the corner where Mrs. Patterson walked her ancient terrier every morning at precisely eight-fifteen. Routine had once comforted h

  • The Devil Who Owes Me A Kiss    twenty

    “Ah.” Lavinia folded her hands in her lap, maintaining perfect composure. “Verity Langford.”Henry’s face confirmed what she had long suspected. “How did you—”“You mentioned her name during one of your more vulnerable moments,” Lavinia said with characteristic directness. “You spoke of her quite fondly.”She caught the bitter undertone in his voice when he mentioned other battles. The constant warfare between his dreams and his duties, the way Uncle Peter manipulated his grief and sense of obligation to keep him tethered to a life he never wanted.“I never intended for you to know,” he said quietly.“Yet I did know. I’ve known for quite some time.” Lavinia straightened in her chair, drawing upon reserves of strength she had cultivated through years of disappointment. “I understand completely, Henry. You’re quite right to end this arrangement.”Henry looked surprised by her calm acceptance. “You’re… you’re not upset?”“Why should I be upset?” Lavinia’s voice remained perfectly level.

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