บททั้งหมดของ Aretha Hawthorne: The Rise Of The Phoenix: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚Marcos’s house is exactly what I imagined it would be—elegant, structured, and yet effortlessly warm. The kind of place that feels like a home rather than a showcase. Books line the built-in shelves along the far wall, some stacked horizontally, some upright with worn spines and dog-eared corners. There’s a hint of cedar in the air, a scent I’d somehow already come to associate with him.“Welcome to Casa Marcos,” he says with a mock bow, holding the door open as I step in. “Shoes off or on?”“I’m not in Japan,” I deadpan, slipping them off anyway. “But I’ll humor your inner neat freak.”His grin is boyish, dangerous, and far too charming for a man who claims he doesn’t brood.Lunch is already prepped by the time we move into the kitchen, and the aroma alone is enough to make me weak in the knees. He’s made roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, buttery roasted potatoes, tender-stem broccoli, and gravy that smells like it was made by the angels themselves. For dessert: sticky

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐬The living room hums with the easy comfort that only years of friendship can build. I pass the cold drinks I'd fetched from my home bar to Cameron and Nathaniel before sinking into the armchair across from them. Cameron’s seated somewhat stiffly on the couch, his eyes staring off into the distance as he seems mentally occupied with something while surprisingly, Nathaniel lounges in his seat, one hand tapping lightly on the armrest and the other lifting his drink to his mouth for a sip. Although his posture today is more relaxed than he usually is, he still has that signature quiet and observant look he always wears.My friends appear to have swapped personalities for today.“You know,” Nathaniel starts, his low and measured voice breaking the silence before I can, “I had a client last week who asked me to help him sue his dead wife.”Cameron finally blinks out of his reverie, lifting a brow. “Come again?”Nathaniel tilts his head slightly. “She left him a letter before sh

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧The bass doesn’t thump here—it prowls. Heavy, hypnotic, primal. It coils around the flesh and glass of The Black Fortress, a fortress of sin carved from obsidian glamour in the belly of Yerevan. Outside, it wears the face of an elite club: mirrored doors, velvet ropes, godless wealth. Inside, it breathes sex and shadows. Past the layers of bodyguards and biometric scans, past the velvet-smothered corridors and diamond-threaded curtains, lies the VVIP lounge—where pleasure turns into a weapon.Bodies twist, moan and beg wantonly.My eyes blur from champagne and perfume and sweat. They’re all touching me—hands, lips, mouths. They moan my name, but I don’t hear it. All I can hear is power in every whimper.A girl writhes beneath me, her nails digging into my back. Another straddles my thigh, whispering filth into my ear as she guides my hand between her legs. Their kisses are mindless, desperate.“Harder,” one pants.“Don’t stop, please—don’t fucking stop.”They don't know

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐬Her lips are still on mine when I feel her pull away—just slightly, like she’s remembering herself. Like she wants to forget that for a second, we weren’t pretending.I notice the moment her kiss changes. A little more urgency, a little less heart. She’s using it now—using me—to bury something deeper.It stings more than I want to admit.She’s not ready.I knew it before tonight, but now I feel it.Still, I don’t press.I kiss her back, gently, one more time before I feign a flinch and hiss.“Shit. My ankle,” I lie, leaning back with a dramatic wince.She jolts up like she’s touched a flame. “Oh my God, I’m sorry! I wasn’t even thinking—are you okay?”“Yeah,” I say, not meeting her eyes. “Just twisted wrong.”Her hands flutter at her sides, unsure what to do. For a second, she looks like she might bolt.To make her comfortable, I give her an out. “Let’s just sit. Watch something dumb. Keep it chill.”She nods quickly. “Yeah. That sounds good.”But it’s not good. Not reall

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐬I don’t even get a full knock in before the door yanks open, revealing the woman who has plagued my mind and every waking thought since I first laid eyes on her.Aretha stands there, eyes sharp and blazing, mouth drawn tight like she’s been sharpening her words for days. The sight of her—barefaced, in a loose hoodie that swallows her frame—should comfort me. Instead, it cuts deeper. Cold fury dances in her gaze.“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” she snaps. “Coming here like nothing happened.”Her voice slices through the hallway, venom laced in every syllable. I open my mouth, but she beats me to it.“I saw enough. Harriet’s hands all over you like you were hers to touch. You didn’t even try to stop her.”“That’s not what happened,” I say, breath tight. “You walked in at the worst moment—”“No,” she bites out, stepping back just enough to let me enter, “I walked in at the exact moment I needed to see what kind of man you are.”I limp in, my ankle still aching with