บททั้งหมดของ MISTRESS OF THE GAME: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

XAVIER STORMThe valet tried to take the keys from me as I rolled up to the front of the hotel, but I ignored him, parking the Ford SUV right in front of the main doors. The hotel manager started toward me with a rehearsed smile and a forced apology about parking regulations, but he froze when he recognized me. One look at my face, and he stepped aside. Smart man.I marched to the front desk, my voice calm but firm. “Penthouse. Now.”The clerk fumbled, stuttering a greeting as she tapped furiously at her keyboard. “Yes, Mr. Storm. Everything is ready. Your usual penthouse suite is available.”“I want full privacy. No disturbances. No calls routed. No staff beyond cleaning. Understood?”“Yes, sir.”The elevator key card was in my hand within seconds. I took it and made my way to the private lift just as my phone buzzed.“We’re pulling in now,” Bull, their leader, said over a call.“I’ll be waiting.”The elevator doors slid open into the penthouse just as the black SUV pulled around the

MARIEIt was wild. Unrestrained. The kind of burning that didn’t fade with time but seemed to grow, fanned by every graze of skin, every whispered word, every breath shared, between bodies that couldn’t stay apart even when they should. Storm’s touch scorched, possessed. His anger had not subsided it had merely shifted forms.He pressed me into the sheets like I was something he needed to conquer, consume. Not once. Not even twice. But for hours, until the sky bled pink and the curtains swayed with the early morning breeze. We had long lost count of how many times his name escaped my lips sometimes as a plea, other times like a prayer or a curse.He made love like war, and I battled him with equal force. My nails raked down his back; his hands pinned mine above my head. When I bit his shoulder, he groaned against my neck and whispered, “You’ll pay for that.”I wanted to. Needed to.His silk robe lay discarded somewhere at the foot of the bed, his boxer barely holding on before it, too

XAVIER STORM The L-Lounge always looked better in the dark.Dim lighting kissed the mahogany walls. The soft hum of ambient jazz curled through the air like smoke. It smelled of polish, cigars, and the expensive perfume of women who never paid for their own drinks. My kind of place. Or at least, it had been.Now it felt like walking into a memory.I nodded once to the valet and stepped inside. A few regulars raised their eyes, wary and reverent. The staff stiffened with quiet deference. This place had my fingerprints on everything, every velvet drape, every crystal decanter, every soul who knew how to shut the hell up and follow protocol.I made my way to the VIP room tucked behind the velvet ropes, Room Six. My usual. The waitress, a sharp little thing named Rina, was already moving the moment she saw me.“Mr. Storm. Your favorite?”I didn’t answer. Just nodded once. She scurried way.The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and old whiskey. I liked it that way. Clean, masculine, unfu

MARIEThe silk hangers in the closet barely made a sound as I slid outfit after outfit to the side, my fingers brushing against fabrics too luxurious to feel like mine. Soft satin, elegant lace, expensive blends that whispered wealth and power. But all I could feel was trapped.I paused on a dark green dress elegant but sharp with a slit that kissed the thigh like a secret. I didn’t need to be told Storm had picked these. Every piece screamed curated, seductive, purposeful. A wardrobe of roles to play.“I’m done playing,” I whispered.But that wasn’t entirely true.I backed away from the closet and collapsed onto the edge of the bed, exhaling like I’d been holding my breath for years. I hadn’t even realized how tired I was until I stopped moving. Tilting my head toward the sunlight leaking through the curtains, I noticed time had slipped past me—it was already noon.My stomach growled.Instinct took

MARIEThe air outside the suite felt different cleaner, sharper as if the hallway itself knew I was stepping out for more than just a stroll. My heels clicked softly against the marble floors, a muted rhythm that somehow made the reality of tonight sink deeper into my skin.As I moved toward the elevators, a strange satisfaction bloomed in my chest. It wasn’t fear this time. It wasn’t even the dull ache of obligation I’d grown used to.It was excitement.Finally, a mission. Finally, a chance to leave the golden cage of the hotel.Of course, Storm had laid down his conditions strict ones. His last warning echoed inside my head like a bell:You leave with the chauffeur. No detours.I curled my fingers into the palm of my hand, swallowing the urge to rebel right then and there.I hated that order. Hated the feeling of being ferried around like precious cargo.But somewhere in the back of my mind, another idea was beginnin