บททั้งหมดของ Pen & Passion: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

My lips still tingled.It had been just a brush, barely there, but the ghost of it haunted me like it was branded into my skin. Joaquin kissed me. My fiancé. My pretend fiancé. My heart was in freefall, and I couldn’t tell if I was terrified or elated.God help me.I slipped back into the ballroom, but I wasn’t really there. Not in my head, anyway. My body moved through the crowd, my hand gripping the edge of a champagne flute I didn’t remember picking up, but inside, everything was chaos.The way his thumb lingered against my hand. The heat in his gaze right before he leaned in. That kiss. That damn kiss.I tried to steady my breathing, but it was useless. He had kissed me, pulled away, and gone back into the ballroom like nothing happened. Like it was easy for him to slip the mask back on while mine had shattered.“Okay, whoa. You look like someone just walked over your grave.”I blinked and found Jessy at my side, her sharp eyes scanning my face. Ethan loomed just behind her, his us

The second Javier’s lips left mine, reality crashed in.What had I done?My back was still pressed to the cold hedge wall of the maze, my body trembling, my lips tingling as if his mouth were still there. My hands hovered uselessly in the air, like they didn’t know whether to shove him harder away or cling to him.It wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to kiss him back.And yet… I had.Even if it was for just one breath, one terrifying, electric heartbeat—I let myself give in. My lips had moved against his.The guilt bloomed in my chest like poison, choking, burning.Joaquin.I staggered a step back, nearly tripping over my gown, clutching the fabric as if I could hide the sin imprinted on my skin. My mind screamed that I loved Joaquin—that I wanted Joaquin—that I had been so sure. And now? Now my stomach twisted with shame, because no matter how much I wanted to deny it, part of me had wanted that kiss.Part of me had wanted him.Javier. My childhood best friend. Joaquin’s br

The ride back to Joaquin’s place was quiet, the hum of the car a low backdrop to the storm in my chest. His arm was around me, steady and warm, shielding me from the flash of cameras as we left the gala.To the world, it must’ve looked like a fairy tale: the devoted fiancé carrying his tired bride-to-be out of a ballroom filled with glitter and champagne.But beneath my skin, shame pulsed like a second heartbeat.When the car pulled up to Joaquin’s bachelor pad, he didn’t even wait for Mark to open the door. He slid out smoothly, gathering me into his arms again before I could protest.“Joaquin, I can walk,” I murmured, cheeks heating.“You’ve done enough tonight,” he said simply, his voice brooking no argument. “Let me.”The door closed behind us, muting the city noise. I know that his private home was sleek, masculine, filled with muted grays and clean lines—but tonight, it felt softer somehow. Like his presence wrapped around every corner.He carried me straight into the living room

The first thing I registered when I opened my eyes was the faint taste of chamomile still on my tongue. The second was the heaviness in my chest, the echo of words I couldn’t erase.I’ll wait. But make no mistake—you’re mine.I buried my face into the pillow, muffling a groan. God, what had last night even been? A fever dream? No. I could still feel the heat of Javier’s gaze on my skin, the way his voice had dipped into something so raw it stripped me bare.And now, morning light streamed through the curtains, bright and unforgiving, reminding me that nothing had actually changed. I was still in Joaquin’s world. Still in his home. Still pretending to be his fiancée while my heart spun like a broken compass between two brothers.Dragging myself out of bed, I threw on a simple blouse and jeans, something safe, something that didn’t feel like silk gowns and masquerade masks and stolen kisses. Maybe coffee would drown the memory.But the second I stepped into the kitchen, I knew fate wasn’

The day stretched long, words blurring together on the page as the soft hum of the city seeped in through the office windows. My pen scratched idly against the margin of Joaquin’s manuscript, but my attention kept drifting.To him.He sat across from me, one leg crossed over the other, his focus sharp on the screen before him. For a while, it was just the rhythm of silence between us. His typing, my note-taking, the quiet companionship that had somehow become our routine.Then, as I reached for another stack of pages, my hand brushed against his.A spark shot through me, quick and treacherous. My breath hitched. His fingers didn’t flinch away immediately. In fact, they lingered, grazing against mine like he was weighing the choice of whether to pull back or… not.I dared a glance at him. His jaw was taut, eyes fixed on the screen, but I felt it. The awareness humming between us, thick and unspoken. For a heartbeat too long, neither of us moved.Then he cleared his throat softly, his ha