All Chapters of Contract Marriage To The Alpha King : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Ava's POV The mid-morning sunlight, once a source of faint comfort, now felt like a harsh spotlight, exposing every raw nerve, every trembling muscle. It was well past noon when my desk phone buzzed sharply, a sudden, intrusive sound that shattered the carefully constructed facade of normalcy I had tried to maintain all morning. The mundane ring vibrated through the worn plastic receiver, then through my very bones. I startled violently, my body jerking, the receiver nearly slipping from my clammy fingers as I fumbled to answer it, my coordination betraying me. It felt disproportionately heavy, a conduit to the man who held my fate in his hands. “Y-yes?” The word came out as a strangled gasp, a pathetic whimper, betraying the terror that had instantly seized my throat. His voice, low and cutting, utterly devoid of warmth or inflection, came through the line, a chilling whisper that somehow filled the entire office with its authority. “In my office. Now.” The line went dead wit

Ava's POV By the time the antique grandfather clock in the opulent hallway struck six, its chimes echoing through the vast, silent mansion, my nerves were frayed, stretched taut like violin strings on the verge of snapping. The afternoon had been an agonizing eternity of pretense. I had stayed at my desk longer than necessary, meticulously sorting through reports that didn’t truly demand my attention, just to keep my hands and mind occupied, to delay the inevitable. Each tick of the clock was a reminder of the impending evening, of his cryptic command. But when the office began to empty out, the polite goodbyes and the shuffling of departing feet growing scarce, and the overhead lights dimmed into their softer, more intimate nighttime glow, I knew there was no more delaying it. He hadn’t said another word to me all afternoon. Not a glance in my direction, not a single command issued directly, not a hint of acknowledgment. He moved through the office like I didn’t even exist, a gh

Ava's POV I walked up the grand, sweeping staircase slowly, each step a heavy, deliberate action. The echo of my heels on the polished marble sounded unnaturally loud in the silent mansion, a rhythmic click-clack that felt less like footsteps and more like a relentless countdown to something inevitable, something I both dreaded and, in a twisted, sick way, anticipated. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. My hands trembled violently as I reached the ornate bedroom door, the gilded handle cool beneath my clammy fingers. Every instinct screamed at me to turn, to run, to hide, but the memory of his chilling gaze, his quiet commands, kept me rooted. I forced myself to reach out, to turn the handle, to push the heavy door open, step inside the opulent cage, and shut it behind me with a soft, final thud. The room was dimly lit, the heavy velvet curtains drawn shut, plunging the space into a suffocating twilight. Despite the gloom, I could still feel his presence

Ava's POV His hand, warm and heavy, slid from my jaw down to the delicate satin strap of my slip, his long, powerful fingers hooking beneath it with unnerving precision. He didn’t tear it off—not yet—just tugged it slightly, a calculated, deliberate movement, and let it fall down my shoulder, its cool, silken fabric sliding with agonizing slowness. His dark gaze followed its descent, a predator savoring the moment before the kill, his eyes burning with an almost feral intensity. My skin, suddenly exposed to the cool air, prickled with goosebumps, not from cold, but from the searing heat of his stare. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp that vibrated in the air between us. His thumb, calloused and warm, brushed against my bare skin, just above the curve of my collarbone, as though testing how much I could take, how much resistance I had left before I completely shattered. “Even when you’re scared, trembling, trying to hide… you’re breathtakingly beautiful.” “

Damian’s POV I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the cool edges of the sink hard enough to make the porcelain groan under the strain. My knuckles were white, my muscles taut. My shirt was open, disheveled, the expensive fabric wrinkled. My tie, the symbol of my control, lay discarded on the pristine marble floor, a forgotten casualty of the battle I had just fought. Her scent still clung to my skin, seeped into my pores, permeated the very air around me. Sweet. Defiant. Intoxicating. Addictive. It was a heady, dangerous cocktail that inflamed my senses, igniting a primal hunger that always threatened to consume me. I hated it. I hated how much I craved it, how much I needed it. How much I craved her. The intensity of the craving was a weakness, a chink in my armor, a vulnerability I couldn't tolerate. It was infuriating. I splashed cold water on my face, again and again, the icy shock doing little to quell the heat that raged beneath my skin. I l