Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 140

The grave plaque inside the royal mausoleum is a beautiful white, gold and blue. Exclusive and exquisitely fit for royalty. So why is Mother’s name still etched onto it? “I asked that you be moved outside the royal mausoleum when I requested your divorce, but I guess Ninko wanted to be buried next to you.” I utter as I shut the door of that specific slot allocated to their generation in the ancestral line. “I am going to be honest and say I could care less where you ended up. I’d probably hire people to pee on your grave too.” There is no response; of course, there isn’t. It would be a problem if there were one. “I never in my life thought I would be here. You cannot really bury the problems the dead stirred, just the dead, huh?” A sigh slips from my lips as I settle next to a white marble sarcophagus opposite Mother’s, which rests atop Ninko’s. “Dying should come with a disclaimer. deaths only solve part of the problem or the cause of the problem; the things they stir still r

A reply to Marko’s posed question barely leaves my lips when the scent of mint and eucalyptus fills the lounge, followed by murmurs and... people bowing.He couldn't have…My denial is cut short by his sight at the VIP entrance.How did he even know where I-Ah...the bond.A path seems to have formed between him and me, for our gazes hold with too much ease.From where I stand, I can smell his shower gel. His wear is too casual for one who was working. Still, he looks far too sexy in the grey sweatpants he has on.I hate that the word 'mine’ dangles at the tip of my tongue when the women beside him flush at his mere presence.His hand pressing his phone to his ears lowers before he hangs the call and motions for me to come to him.My gaze scans for Violet, but she isn't even in the vicinity.God damn witch!With only anxiety writhing through my being, I slide my phone into my purse and comply with his request.The lounge is far too silent; even the music seems to have stopped as every

“A party?” “Yap, for the end of the season of the production, Magnolia is hosting. You should come.” Janine utters as she removes the last set of jewellery from me. For a minute, my gaze on the dresser reminded me of the forcefulness Marko held me in. The delightful intensity of his silver eyes that held me in the mirror and the foul language that slipped from his lips as he buried himself inside me. A shudder escapes me at the memory. For a man who doesn’t talk much, he is a beast. My teeth find my lower lip as I press my centre harder on the chair, hoping to squelch the throb that came alive. We haven’t talked since then; we either had to film separately, or he had affairs to handle being an A-lister, of course. But if I go to the party then, we can talk and maybe even define this so that I do not have to hesitate to dial his number on my phone. How weird would it be if a one-time thing had the audacity to call from a number she had to get from the director? He is an A-lis

The beating of my heart seems to halt.I cannot tell if my ears are ringing or if it is the effect of blood rushing from my head to settle in my gut.Where did he get the name from? Me in the car or elsewhere?My mouth moves to make an excuse, but none comes to mind. What does he know? How can I twist this?"I was playing around with the name in the car. It’s nice. Are you jealous I do not appreciate yours in the same way?""I'll answer that when you try again; perhaps this time, put some effort if you intend on lying to me."Shit."You've sent people to spy on me.”It is not a question I ask, but a statement that he smiles after."Not well trained enough to evade the league security, but even gutter rats have their way."Fuck, that's…not an answer.“Are you referring to yourself as, said gutter rat?”“The league is bigger than us, unimaginably so. I have received quite a few sanctions from my attempts to reach you; hence it has taken a year.”Marko pauses to gesture with his hand tha

"Join you in the hall? I need to leave; there is an emergency. We can dance next time."I dismiss with ease, but he nears me."Next time when?"Marko asks with a smile as his hand grazes the paintings on his way to me."During your next...thing?""Oh...you won't have moved or fired half your staff by then? Are you certain that I will not get a response from the league saying you are halfway across the globe? Or on a diplomatic mission or task force somewhere?”He stills to turn his gaze to a silver polished vase shimmering beautifully under the bright chandelier lights. “‘Next time’ when Alba.""I can't...I can't do this right now.""Of course, you ‘can't’; running is, after all, what you do best, Alba.”His slow walk toward me resumes.I hate the way he punctuates his sentences with my name as if to stress his disappointment in me.Yet another feeling I do not need clogging me.“Another time, Marko. I need to-”“To what? to go? And then what? I spend another year and a half waiting