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publish date:
2026-07-13 15:08:43
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Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil 80
The glass doors of the private medical clinic slid open, letting in a rush of cool morning air. The lobby was entirely white, the polished floors reflecting the bright overhead lights. Gideon walked half a step ahead of me, his posture rigid as his dark eyes swept the room. Elias Blackstone stood near the reception desk. He wore a dark suit, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The moment he saw me, his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. "Ms. Bennett," the receptionist said, offering a polite smile. "The doctor is ready for you in room three." Gideon stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. "I will go in with her." "The phlebotomist only allows one companion in the room," the receptionist replied gently. Elias pushed off the wall, walking over to us. "I will wait out here," he said, his dark eyes locking onto Gideon. "We can use the time to review the chain of custody for the samples." Gideon’s jaw ticked, but he gave a single, sharp nod
Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil 81
The guest house was entirely quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator. Gideon stood at the kitchen island, stirring a pot of chicken soup. The steam rose in thick white curls, fogging the glass window above the sink. The overhead pendant lights cast long shadows across the polished marble. The quiet tick of the wall clock seemed deafening in the large space. I sat on a wooden stool, my hands wrapped around a mug of warm water. The forty-eight hours were up. The lab had promised the results by five. Eight o'clock meant they were late. The silence in the room felt heavy, pressing against my eardrums and making my skin prickle. My phone sat face down on the marble counter. The screen remained completely dark. No emails. No calls. The waiting was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest and making it hard to draw a full breath. My lower back throbbed with a dull ache, a constant reminder of the physical toll the stress was taking. Gideon set the wooden spoon down. He wip
Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil 79
The black town car glided through the quiet streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white past the tinted windows. The silence inside the cabin was not heavy. It was a comfortable, exhausted quiet. Gideon sat beside me, his long legs stretched out. His hand rested over mine on the leather seat, his thumb tracing slow, rhythmic circles over my knuckles. He did not ask if I was okay. He did not demand to know what I was thinking. He just stayed there, a solid, warm anchor in the dark. I leaned my head against the window, watching the familiar streets of the city pass by. My lower back throbbed with a dull ache, and my feet ached from the heels, but my mind felt entirely clear. I had faced Elias. I had laid out the truth. I had set the boundary. The gray area I had been living in for four months was finally gone, replaced by a hard, undeniable reality. The car slowed, turning through the heavy iron gates of the estate. Harold pulled up to the front of the guest hou
Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil 78
The private elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. The penthouse suite stretched out before us, bathed in the dim, golden glow of the recessed lighting. The heavy velvet drapes were drawn, but the layout was exactly as I remembered it from four months ago. The plush sofa, the glass coffee table, the wide doors leading out to the private balcony. Gideon stepped out first. He immediately walked to the wall thermostat and turned the temperature up two degrees. He then moved to the minibar, pulling out a bottle of sparkling water and a clean glass. "Sit down," Gideon said, gesturing to the sofa. His voice was gentle but carried an absolute authority. "You have been on your feet all evening." "I am fine, Gideon," I replied, though I walked over and sat on the edge of the cushions anyway. My lower back carried a dull, familiar ache that flared up after standing in heels for too long. He poured the water and handed it to me. His fingers brushed mine, warm and steady. "Drink. You
Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil 77
The heavy glass of the revolving doors pushed inward, letting the cool evening air spill into the vast lobby of the Grand Crescent Hotel. Polished marble floors stretched out under the glow of massive crystal chandeliers, the light catching the gleaming brass of the luggage carts and the edge of the front desk. It had been exactly four months since I last walked across this floor in a staff uniform. Four months since the morning sickness started, four months since I packed my bags and left this building behind. My boots struck the marble in a steady rhythm. The physical space felt entirely different now. The heavy wool of my coat and the solid presence of Gideon walking beside me felt like armor against the memories of double shifts and hidden bruises. Marcus stepped out from behind the main concierge podium. The older man adjusted his vest, his eyes widening in genuine recognition as he bypassed the line of waiting guests to walk straight toward me. "Ms. Bennett," Marcus said, hi
Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil 76
Gideon sat in his leather chair, his pen moving in steady, deliberate strokes across the paper. He had slid the security protocols and the seating chart across the desk an hour ago, trusting me to review the details of the the scattered vendor schedules and revised guest manifests, while he handled the final approvals. I sat on the plush sofa in the corner, a warm mug of tea resting in my hands. The quiet rhythm of the executive suite was comfortable, the low hum of the ventilation system the only sound in the room. My lower back carried a dull, familiar throb, so I shifted my weight and pressed a free hand against the slight curve of my stomach beneath my oversized sweater. A soft knock broke the silence. Carla stepped inside, holding a small, cream-colored envelope. Her posture was rigid, her usual no-nonsense demeanor replaced by a faint line of tension at the corners of her mouth. "Mr. Vale," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "This was hand-delivered to the front desk
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