All Chapters of HIS FORBIDDEN TEMPTATION : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

She’s been gone too long.At first, I told myself I was imagining it. That she just needed a moment to breathe. To pull herself together in that cool, collected way she always does. But minutes are ticking by, each one pressing down on my chest like a slow-building weight, and Emily hasn’t come back.And something about it doesn’t sit right.My fingers drum against the table, eyes flicking to the hallway where she disappeared. My scotch is empty, and so is my patience.Then, Gustavo had suddenly stood up. "Excuse me," he said, straightening his suit jacket. “I need to visit the little boys' room. Be right back."Something clicks in my head.Too coincidental. Too clean.I had stared at his retreating figure, every part of me screaming that something was off. The casual stroll, the too-cocky grin. He’s not going to the men’s restroom—he’s following her.And suddenly I’m on my feet.My chair scrapes back violently against the polished wood floor. I stalk toward the back hallway, each st

She was trouble. Trouble wrapped in damp skin, flushed cheeks, and the kind of curves that could ruin a man without trying.We stepped out of the bathroom, steam following us like ghosts of what we’d just done. I handed her a towel, but she ignored it. Just turned around, gave me a look over her shoulder, and let her hips sway as she walked toward the bed.That sway.She knew exactly what she was doing.My jaw tightened. "Emily..."She didn’t answer. Just crawled onto the bed like a cat stretching in sunlight, deliberately slow. She didn’t cover herself. Didn’t hide. Her bare ass peeked at me with every little twist of her spine.Then she moaned.My eyes darkened.She was on her back now, one hand sliding down between her thighs."I thought you said you were satisfied," I muttered, voice low, dangerous.She licked her lips. “I lied.”My cock twitched again—fuck, I wasn’t even fully soft, and she was already dragging me back to the edge.Her fingers brushed her slit. Just barely."Emil

I woke up to the smell of expensive cologne and the quiet rustle of fabric. The bed was empty beside me, cold. My eyes fluttered open to find Mr De Vito already dressed—dark tailored slacks, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled just once, and that perpetual air of authority that clung to him like a second skin. He sat in the armchair near the window, one leg crossed over the other, fingers steepled, watching me.Not saying a word.I blinked, dazed from sleep and sore in all the best ways. My body still buzzed from everything we'd done last night—and earlier this morning. The memory of him slamming into me, his hand around my throat, the way he’d made me scream his name into the hotel sheets—it played on loop in my mind like a wicked lullaby. But now, he was silent. Distant. Ice where there had been fire."Go get ready," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "We’re returning to Italy."That was it. No good morning. No teasing. No smirk.Just cold command.I sat up slowly, the sh

The moonlight lights of Milan flickered through the window, but my eyes were fixed on one place—his parking space. Mr De Vito still wasn’t home.I knew I shouldn’t be watching. I knew it made me look like some lovesick fool standing behind a sheer curtain on the second floor, heart leaping at every sound, every flicker of motion.But I couldn’t help it.After the silence on the flight, after the cold, clinical way he dismissed me on the tarmac like I was just another employee—after everything—I needed to see him. Even from afar. Even if he walked in with another woman clinging to his arm. At least I’d know.I pressed my forehead against the glass, the chill grounding me for a second. A deep breath filled my lungs, heavy and stale. I was spiraling. I knew it. I had crossed a line. Slept with the man who signs my paychecks. Given him more of me than I’d ever given anyone, and now—Now, I didn’t know who I was to him.Nothing, if today was any indication.With a sigh, I turned from the

The silence stretched between us like a live wire, thrumming with tension so thick I could barely breathe.He stood at the edge of my bed, his hands fisted at his sides, jaw ticking like he was at war with himself. I sat up, sheets slipping off my chest, leaving me exposed in my flimsy tank top. My nipples tightened beneath the fabric, and I didn’t know if it was from the cool air or the fire blazing in his eyes.“Mr De Vito…” My voice was a whisper, shaky and uncertain, but laced with need. “What are you doing here?”He didn’t answer.Instead, he stared—his gaze slow, deliberate, and searing. My breath hitched as it roamed over every inch of me. I could feel the way he was drinking me in, from the slope of my shoulder to the bare skin of my thighs peeking out from beneath my shorts.“Strip,” he said.One word. Commanding. Low. Dangerous.Not a request.I froze, eyes wide. My heart skipped, then pounded faster. “W-What?”His gaze sharpened. “Take. It. Off.”Something inside me uncoile