All Chapters of My Lustful Arrangement With The Hockey Player: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

ISABELLA The lights dimmed just enough to draw the crowd's attention. The murmurs and low chatter faded into a sudden, almost reverent quiet.The slideshow on the screen transitioned smoothly into the next frame: an image of a luxurious yet warm dining space, elegant and inviting, bursting with life and culture.It was a vision, a dream that somehow, in this very moment, felt real.A restaurant not just for the privileged few but for anyone who longed for a taste of something more, something that embraced everyone. The crowd around us stirred, nodding and whispering, expressions of interest beginning to form.I could feel the weight of their gazes, a mix of curiosity and expectation. Logan’s hand was a heavy, grounding presence at my lower back, his touch reassuring, but it didn't stop the nervous tremor crawling up my spine.The whispers about my restaurant, my dream was becoming a reality, and I couldn’t decide if I was proud or suffocating.I glanced up at Logan, trying to find so

ISABELLA I pressed my forehead against the cold windowpane, watching the glittering city blur past in restless streaks of gold and red like molten metal smeared carelessly across glass. The quiet hum of the engine beneath me should have been calming, like a lullaby after the worst night of my life. But all it did was remind me I was trapped. In this car, in this life and in this goddamn mess I didn’t sign up for.I sat in the farthest corner of the backseat, my knees curled in and arms wrapped around them because even breathing in the same confined space as Logan Black felt like swallowing glass.He was up front, barking into his phone like the world owed him obedience and immediate answers."Why the fuck was he released?" His voice was a jagged snap sharp enough to cut through the low rumble of tires against asphalt. "I gave you clear instructions. He was supposed to stay in holding until I got there. Who signed off on it?"I didn’t even have the energy to scoff at his dramatics

ISABELLAThe house was eerily quiet that afternoon, the kind of silence that settled deep into your bones and made every small noise stand out like a drumbeat in the dark.I’d spent most of the morning avoiding Logan, pretending my guilt was something I could just ignore but deep down, I knew I couldn’t, not when I’d let him walk away, helplessly, without even a hint of an apology for the harsh things I’d said.I couldn’t bring myself to apologize for accusing him of something he hadn’t done. Because part of me still wasn’t sure.The maid appeared in the doorway of my room, a smile playing on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes.“Logan said you’re to come with him today,” she informed me, her tone casual but her gaze searching, like she could tell something was off with me. I hated that she probably could.I nodded without a word, already knowing what she meant. Business. That’s all it ever was with him, wasn’t it? He never let me forget that.Even now, in the aftermath of every

LOGANThe silence that followed my father’s declaration was enough to wrap around my throat and choke me. I stood there for a beat too long, fingers curled tightly into fists at my sides, jaw locked, teeth clenched. My body felt stiff, like it had been plunged into ice water. “You want me to what?” I said slowly. “Take over your company? That’s what this is about?”He looked amused. That goddamn, tired amusement he always wore like some ancient crown he refused to take off. “Don’t look so surprised, son. You’re not exactly the first person I thought of, but I figured since you’re already floating around doing that… hockey thing, this could give you some real direction.”My nostrils flared. “That hockey thing?”“Yes. The ice-skating puck game or whatever it is.” He gave a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Fun, yes, but hardly a real career. Certainly not something to hang your future on."“Wow,” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face, heat crawling up my neck like it was preparing to

ISABELLAI woke up to the smell of coffee, the soft hint of it curling beneath my nostrils and teasing me back into consciousness. My lashes fluttered open slowly, and the ceiling came into focus first, a pale ivory that I knew too well, and it took all of five seconds for my mind to register the obvious, I was in my room.Not on the couch, not on the balcony, not halfway drooling on a cushion with a half-eaten popcorn kernel under my thigh but in my room.I sat up slowly, blinking hard. My fingers gripped the edge of the duvet as flashes of last night came back in a lazy montage. Logan's warm chest, the weight of his arm, his soft chuckles during the movie, the way he held me so carefully when I started to break down, like he was scared touching me wrong would make me shatter and then… nothing. I’d fallen asleep and clearly, he’d carried me to bed.I groaned loudly.God, how much did I weigh? Why the hell did I suddenly feel like a cement block with legs? I climbed off the bed and s