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54

Auteur: Goeey
last update Date de publication: 2026-07-23 15:52:28

The public library printer hummed, spitting out the first page while the progress bar crawled across the monitor. My fingers hovered over the keyboard to guard the downloaded PDF. The original, the heavy parchment with the actual embossed seal, was still safe, hidden in the locked drawer at home. These were just reprints. Replacements for the ones he had torn up last year. I just wanted to see my name on a paper again, to prove to myself that I still existed outside of this apartment.

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  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   57

    "I told you I have it by Friday," Shane shouted into the phone, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the plastic receiver.My hands paused on the kitchen knife, the blade hovering over a half-chopped onion. The apartment walls felt too thin, vibrating with the harsh edge of his voice while I forced my breathing to stay steady."No, you cannot send someone to the house," he continued, pacing the length of the small living room. "I will bring the cash to the usual spot. Just give me until Friday."He slammed the phone down onto the base, the sharp plastic impact echoing off the bare walls. My shoulders stiffened, the cashmere cardigan pulling tight across my ribs as I watched him drag a hand through his hair."Who was that?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the cutting board while the knife resumed its steady rhythm.Shane stared at the blank television screen, his chest heaving. "Just a business associate. Someone who is getting impatient about a loan.""A loan?" I repeated, the word ca

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   56

    The espresso machine steamed, filling the small breakroom with the heavy warmth of roasted beans while the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Lena stood at the counter, wrapping her hands around a ceramic mug and watching my reflection in the dark glass of the microwave. I kept my eyes fixed on the coffee maker, watching the dark liquid drip into the paper cup, my fingers curled so tightly around the cardboard sleeve that my knuckles ached. "You are going to burn a hole through that machine if you keep staring at it," Lena said, her voice quiet in the empty room. "The filter is clogged," I muttered, reaching out to adjust the plastic basket. "The filter is fine, Addie." Lena turned around and leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip of her tea. Her eyes tracked the way my shoulders hunched forward, protecting the heavy cashmere cardigan wrapped tightly around my middle. "You have been jumpy all morning. You jumped when Michael dropped his stapler yesterday, and you flinched

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   55

    The torn pieces of paper had haunted my hands all night. Every time I closed my eyes, the sharp sound of ripping parchment echoed behind my eyelids, the gold seal splitting down the middle while Shane's breathing filled the room. My fingers kept twitching against the steering wheel of the train, phantom strips of paper stuck between my knuckles. The office doors swung open the next morning, and the fluorescent lights hit my face with a harsh, unforgiving glare. My boots dragged across the carpet while I navigated the narrow aisle between the cubicles. The cashmere cardigan Gideon had given me pulled tight across my middle, the fabric riding up with every step. My hand smoothed it down, a nervous habit that had taken root over the past few weeks. Dropping into my chair, the monitor stayed dark while my hands rested on the desk. The keyboard felt cold under my fingertips, the keys pressing back against my skin. A folded piece of paper sat next to my mouse. My name was written ac

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   54

    The public library printer hummed, spitting out the first page while the progress bar crawled across the monitor. My fingers hovered over the keyboard to guard the downloaded PDF. The original, the heavy parchment with the actual embossed seal, was still safe, hidden in the locked drawer at home. These were just reprints. Replacements for the ones he had torn up last year. I just wanted to see my name on a paper again, to prove to myself that I still existed outside of this apartment. Warm paper slid into the tray, the smooth edges feeling like a foreign object against my skin. The scanned seal sat in the bottom corner, a blurry gray stamp validating every late night spent studying. Slipping the document into the inner pocket of my coat, the stiff paper pressed against my ribs. Feeding the next sheet into the tray, I watched the second certificate print with the same sharp precision. Tucking them all into the coat pocket, the thick stack created a heavy weight against my side. Zippin

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   53

    The cursor blinked on the spreadsheet, a steady rhythm mocking the heavy droop of my eyelids. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, refusing to type the next row of data. The cashmere cardigan Gideon had given me felt unusually tight across my middle. My hands tugged at the hem, trying to loosen the fabric, but the soft material just pulled taut over the slight, firm curve of my stomach. Three months. The baby was growing, taking up space and draining every ounce of energy I had left. A shadow fell over the desk. Lena stood there, holding a stack of printed reports. "You have been staring at that same cell for ten minutes," she noted, tapping the paper against the partition. "The numbers just need a final check," the excuse fell from my lips automatically. "Gideon needs the coastal projections," she said, dropping the reports next to my keyboard. "He is waiting in his office." The papers felt like lead as I gathered them, the edges sharp against my skin. My palms pressed

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   52

    The red pen tapped against the mahogany desk while Gideon stared at the vendor list. Sarah stood on the other side, shifting her weight from one heel to the other. "Column forty-seven has a duplicated vendor code," Gideon said, his voice perfectly level. "Fix it." Sarah leaned forward and squinted at the paper. "Adeline compiled that section, so I just formatted the final draft." My jaw tightened, the bruised skin pulling hot and uncomfortable. Gideon set the pen down. His dark eyes moved from the paper to Sarah, then briefly to my face. "Adeline compiled the raw data, but you formatted the final draft. If the code is duplicated, the formatting error belongs to you." "I can fix it right now," Sarah stammered, reaching for the papers. "Leave them," Gideon said. "Take the digital file back to your desk, fix the code, check the margins, and bring it back in ten minutes. If there is another error, you will reassign your weekend hours to the archives." Sarah grabbed the digital dr

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