Semua Bab Gold & Sand: Bab 91 - Bab 100

David stood at the door, his imposing figure blocking the dim light spilling into the room. The gun in his hand gleamed coldly in the moonlight, and the way he held it… steady, deliberate… sent a chill down Matthew’s spine."Matthew Smith," David's voice was low, almost a growl, each syllable laced with contempt. "You think you can walk away from this unscathed?"Matthew stumbled back, eyes blazing, but his voice was sharp, cutting. “Breaking and entering, Jones? Didn’t peg you as the type to go off-book.”David didn’t answer. Instead, he swung the butt of his gun with brutal precision, crashing it against Matthew’s temple. The blow sent Matthew reeling, his skull splitting with pain as he crumpled to the floor. He gasped for air, struggling to focus, the sharp sting in his head threatening to consume him.David’s hand gripped the collar of Matthew’s shirt, yanking him upright with a force that

Masahiro woke up with a start, his head heavy and his body aching from the restless night. The events from the early hours weighed on him like a suffocating blanket. He turned his head to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. Matthew’s side. A surge of irritation bubbled within him. The thought that Matthew might have run away gnawed at his mind. He clenched his jaw and exhaled sharply. He checked the clock on his bedside table; it was almost 10 a.m. He was over three hours late. The realization did nothing to ease his frustration. Sitting up, Masahiro grabbed his phone from the nightstand, his fingers lingering on the hope that there would be some word from Matthew. A message, a missed call, anything. But the screen was devoid of Matthew’s name. Instead, it was filled with multiple missed calls from Lewis. Masahiro sighed deeply, then dialed Lewis back. The line barely rang twice before Lewis answered. “Payne! Good morning. How ar

Masahiro pushed through the throngs of people in El Paradiso, his jaw tight, his patience wearing thin. The club was alive with flashing lights and pulsing music, but it grated on his nerves. He scanned the room with sharp eyes, frustration building with every moment that passed without a trace of Matthew.He clenched his fists. Two days. Two damn days. Every scenario had run through his mind… Matthew injured, captured, or worse.Then he saw him.Matthew was in the center of the dance floor, commanding attention like it was his birthright. His body moved to the rhythm, fluid and enticing. He had a cigar in hand, smoke curling lazily around him like a lover’s embrace. His head was tilted back, eyes closed, a sinful smirk gracing his lips as he rolled his hips in perfect sync with the beat.Masahiro froze, his emotions colliding in a storm he could barely contain. Relief washed over him… Matthew was okay. Alive. Unharmed. But it was quic

The sitting room echoed with the sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin.Matthew lay beneath Masahiro, his breath catching as their bodies pressed together, the place illuminated only by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the large windows.Matthew clung tightly to Masahiro's shoulders, his fingers digging into him. "Ah... Ah..." he panted, his voice hoarse from hours of unrestrained pleasure. Each thrust from Masahiro sent a jolt of ecstasy through his body, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.Matthew closed his eyes, his mind racing. ´Does he really love me? Or is this just one of those fleeting things? Something born out of the moment. ´As Masahiro's powerful hips slammed into Matthew's soft, welcoming cheeks, he leaned down, his hot breath tickling Matthew's ear. "What are you thinking?" he whispered, his deep voice raspy with desire.Matthew blinked up at him, stunned by how easily Masahiro seemed to s

The quiet hum of the office was broken only by the steady clicks of Masahiro’s keyboard. His brow furrowed as he scrolled through a list of phone records on his screen. Beside him, Lewis leaned back, flipping through the financial reports they had pulled on David. The tension in the air was thick as realization began to take hold.“Look at this,” Masahiro said, his voice sharp but low. He highlighted a series of calls. “Jones received multiple calls from an unregistered number right before Mr. K’s convoy. Ten calls in the hour leading up to the operation. And then—radio silence.” Lewis glanced at the screen, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That’s not just suspicious; that’s damning. Whoever called him, they knew exactly what was happening.” Masahiro nodded grimly. “And these calls? They weren’t logged in the official records. It’s like he wiped them clean. But this,” he pointed to a time stamp, “is a trace he couldn’t erase. The call connected to th