All Chapters of DANGEROUSLY YOURS: INTO THE ARMS OF MY STEP_BROTHER: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Christopher Gravemoor:I was too stunned to speak.I didn’t know what to do in that moment.Because seriously—what the hell was wrong with Amara?“I'm sorry,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “You know she didn’t mean that, right?”“Yeah,” she replied quietly. Too quickly.She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Just nodded like it didn’t bother her.But I saw the way her jaw clenched. The way her hand gripped the mug a little tighter.I could feel it in the way the air between us shifted. Like the silence between us had grown claws.“Yeah. So… you’re not going to work?” I asked, trying to sound casual.She shook her head. “No. It’s Saturday. Not my shift.”She paused, then added, “I’m going to do laundry so… see you later.”Her voice was distant. Dismissive.And before I could say anything else, she was already walking off, mug in hand and a quiet ache trailing behind her.I sighed and turned, heading upstairs to Amara’s room.Her nanny was brushing her hair, the usual morning routine. I crou

Christopher Gravemoor:“I fucking love you,” I growled into her ear, dragging my mouth down her throat, tasting the heat pulsing beneath her skin. Then I caught her lips—hard, desperate.“You should go…” she breathed, but her body betrayed her. My finger slipped inside her, slow and deliberate. Her lips parted—not in protest, but to take my finger into her mouth, eyes never leaving mine. She sucked like she wanted to own me.She does need me. The way she pulled me closer, nails digging into my back, hips tilting to meet me—it wasn’t just lust. It was raw. Starved. Mine.I crushed my mouth to hers again, deeper this time, feeding the fire she lit in me every damn time.Then—a knock.Sharp. Soft. Wrong.We froze.I pulled back, chest heaving, jaw tight. She stumbled toward the door—flushed, trembling, my touch still clinging to her skin. I slipped into the shadows, watching her with hunger still simmering in my veins.She opened the door.It was a maid.“Is Boss in here?” the girl asked

Christopher Gravemoor:I could spend hours just looking into her eyes — stormy, soft, dangerous. She didn’t even have to try; she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And the worst part? She wasn’t mine. Not really."Good morning…" she whispered, her voice like velvet against my skin as she snuggled closer, her arms wrapping around me like she forgot — or chose to forget — we weren’t supposed to be doing this.I kissed her forehead gently. “You didn’t sleep well, did you?”Her lips twitched into a small, guilty smile. "No… how could I? You were right there all night.”I sat up, dragging a hand down my face, then stretched my arms. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t exactly help.”She sat up too, pulling the blanket around her bare shoulders. “I didn’t give you much space, did I?”I glanced over at her, my voice dry. “You never do. But I don’t mind.”She shook her head and looked away. “Chris… what we’re doing… it’s unholy. We shouldn’t be like this.”I didn’t argue. I already knew that. B

Isabella;Work was fine-nothing out of the ordinary. The usual whistling and drunken gestures from half-sloshed men with nothing better to do than act like fools, proposing to spend their fortune on any unfortunate worker who even considers listening to their madness. Yes, I did call them unfortunate, because that's exactly what they'll get once they sign the deal with those sly bastards. Men like that, only want to get into your panties and then move onto another blonde available, men like that have no dignity whatsoever...........bad news.Then there were the others-the quiet ones, also the mature disciplined Men, who seemed to live in a different world altogether. They'd sit alone, drink their hours away, maybe trying to drown whatever hell they were going through. Always, minding their dear business, no touching, flaunting crispy new notes on our faces. Oddly enough, they were my favorites. Any girl here would tell you the same.They never caused trouble. Maybe a tip here and the

Isabella Leonardo:I said nothing. I didn't move. The drive back to the mansion was silent-unbelievably so. Inside my head, I kept chanting, calm the fuck down. His eyes stayed on me, drilling holes through my composure, but I held steady. Expressionless. Unyielding.I turned my gaze to the night sky, begging, praying for the ride to end quickly. I couldn't stand his presence. My lungs refused to breathe through my nose, so I inhaled shallowly through my mouth, like I was choking on the tension between us. They say silence takes strength-that the real power lies in walking away without a word. Tonight, I finally understood.Christopher expected me to crack, to lash out, to lose control in that car. Drop your pride, his silence screamed. Explode. But if I burn, it will be on my terms.The car rolled to a stop inside the compound. I opened the door, sling bag and phone in hand, ready to escape the suffocating air. Then his voice, low and commanding, sliced through the night. "Meet me i