Semua Bab One Night Stand With Mr.. President: Bab 61 - Bab 70

RichardI ran my fingers over the edge of the boardroom table, feeling the smooth finish under my touch. The door clicked shut behind Jayden, and I watched him leave without a word. The tension of the meeting still clung to my shoulders like a heavy coat.I pulled in a long breath and sank into the chair at the head of the table. The room was suddenly silent, empty of the buzzing energy it had held moments ago. My mind raced as I replayed every look Jayden had given me, every hint of guilt in his eyes. Something was wrong. I could feel it.My fingers tapped lightly against the polished table as my thoughts spun in circles.Something definitely wasn’t right.Jayden’s behavior, Elena’s sudden interest in working closely with me, my relatives showing up again after years of silence, it all felt too perfectly timed. Like pieces of a puzzle I hadn’t figured out yet.And that look on Jayden’s face before he left... it wasn’t just fake. It was knowing. Like he was holding onto something. Lik

EmiliaThe bartender came back and placed the drink in front of me. A virgin mojito. I didn't even ask what it was—I just took a sip.Cold, crisp, minty, and with just the right amount of lime. Not bad for a drink without a kick. I didn’t say anything to Nora yet. I didn’t even glance her way. I wasn’t ready to dive in right off the bat. No, I was going to enjoy this properly. Calmly.Sip by sip, I let the drink work its quiet magic. My fingers tapped the side of the glass as I thought about how odd it felt to be sitting here beside her. The infamous Nora. So much mystery around her name lately. And now here she was, just… sipping her own drink like she hadn’t caused a ripple in anyone’s world.Interesting.I drained the glass slowly, until the last mint leaf clung to the ice at the bottom. Then, finally, I placed it down and gave a satisfied sigh.“That was dangerously good,” I said, my voice light.I held the glass up slightly toward the bartender. “Can I get another one, please? Sa

Emilia I didn’t say another word. I just turned on my heels and walked out of the lounge, keeping my face cold and unreadable. My heels echoed against the floor with every step, and I could feel Richard’s eyes on my back.Sure enough, I heard him call, “Emilia—wait,” before following after me.I didn’t stop. I walked faster, pushing past a group of guests until I turned down the quiet hallway near the elevators. The second I knew we were alone and out of sight, I stopped, dropped the act, and burst into laughter.Real, deep, belly laughter.I held onto the wall as I doubled over, laughing so hard tears threatened to fall from the corners of my eyes.“Are you—what the hell is going on?” Richard asked, catching up to me, confused. He stared at me like I’d lost my mind.I straightened up and wiped my eyes. “Relax, boss man. I was just messing around.”“Messing around?” he repeated, his brows pulled together in disbelief. “You were yelling. I thought you were about to slap her or somethi

Emilia’s POVAfter the clients departed and the echo of chairs scraping against the floor faded, I gathered my notes and tucked them into my portfolio. The meeting had gone flawlessly—certainly nothing like the chaos and whispers that had filled the bar days ago. I felt a surge of pride as I slid the folder closed. My gaze drifted across the polished table to see Elena lingering near the door.She’d chosen her moment perfectly. I didn’t have to search for her; she approached me with that practiced grace, like a swan gliding across still water. But beneath the composed surface, I knew she was more like a shark—beautiful, relentless, and ready to strike.Elena striding toward me with that fake smile plastered across her face—the kind that screams “I’m pretending to be sweet but I’m secretly hoping you trip in heels.” I stayed rooted in place, head high, hands calmly folded in front of me. Let her come."Emilia," she said, voice light and syrupy, like we were old friends catching up at b

RichardThe two FBI agents didn’t waste time. As soon as we stepped into the quiet corridor, one of them gestured toward a side hallway.“This way, Mr. Kane. Mrs. Kane,” the female agent said, professional but firm.Emilia let out a low breath and nudged me with her elbow. “We should’ve just flown in your private jet,” she muttered. “None of this airport nonsense.”I glanced at her, a half-smirk tugging at my mouth despite the situation. “Noted for next time.”We followed the agents into a plain room with frosted glass panels and a long table at the center. There were no windows, just that stale, overly air-conditioned air and cold white lights humming above us. They shut the door behind us.“Please, have a seat,” Agent Wallace said, motioning to the chairs.“No, thanks,” I said, standing tall. “We’re not staying long.”The other agent, a woman with sharp eyes and dark hair tied back in a tight ponytail, stepped forward. “Mr. Kane, this is a federal matter. We’d like to speak to you—”