All Chapters of Crossing Lines: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Lana ReyesThe Langham is obscene in its elegance.Everything about this suite is curated to feel like safety. Soft light. Expensive silence. The illusion of comfort.But I see through it now.I step across the polished floors, my bare feet sinking into a Persian rug that probably costs more than my mother’s medical debt. The silk robe clings to my skin, still damp from the bath, still stained with the phantom of his touch.Lavender and bergamot hang in the air like a lie, but beneath it—beneath everything—I can still smell him.Nathan.Clean linen, cedarwood, and something sharper. Something colder. Like smoke curling off ice.I catch my reflection in the mirror as I pass.I look… untouched.But the bruises along my collarbone tell a different story. Finger-shaped reminders of the night before. Marks of control. Marks of him.And still, my body betrays me.It shivers at the memory.The black room.The chains.His voice—low, cruel, commanding: “You want the money or you want me?”I wa

Nathan CrossThe city stretched below me—cold, glittering, indifferent. From up here, it looked beautiful. Controlled. Every light, every shadow, a product of order and power. My power.This view wasn’t a luxury—it was a fucking monument. To the deals I’d closed. The people I’d crushed. The life I’d engineered, one brutal choice at a time.But lately, it felt less like a monument and more like a mausoleum.And tonight, none of it was enough.Because for the first time in years, I wasn’t alone in that bed.Lana was downstairs, probably curled up with a book she’d never finish because she’d fall asleep halfway through. Maybe wrapped in one of my shirts she hadn’t asked to borrow. Laugh lines softening her face, lips parted, unaware that she’d begun to look like she belonged here.And I hated it.Because deep down, I didn’t want to walk back into that room and find her gone.I wanted her to stay.But that’s the problem, isn’t it?Wanting.Happiness, intimacy, love—whatever the hell you w

Lana ReyesThe island greeted us like a secret it had been waiting to share, its warmth settling over me the moment we touched down. The tall palms swayed in lazy rhythm, casting languid shadows across the tarmac, their fronds whispering to the wind like they knew things—soft, sultry things meant to stay between lovers.The jet slowed as it rolled into the hangar, and my heart thudded against my ribs, the thrill of escape impossible to contain. When the door opened and I stepped out, the heat kissed my skin like it had missed me, golden sunlight pouring over everything in a glow so rich it felt unreal. The air was thick with salt and sweetness—tropical blooms, ripe fruit, a hint of something wild beneath it all.I paused at the foot of the stairs, my sandals brushing against the tarmac, and let it all sink in.And then I felt him.Not in a touch—in a stare.I turned, and there he was, standing a few steps above me. Nathan Cross in sunlight was... dangerous. His white shirt clung to hi

Nathan CrossThe night air cut through the heat of the party like a blade, crisp and cool against my skin as we stepped out into the darkness. Lana walked beside me, her heels tapping against the stone like a slow countdown I felt in my chest. Every sound she made—every step, every breath—hit me like a fucking drug. That dress…Black. Backless. Tailored to sin.It hugged her body like it had been sewn onto her skin, a second layer molded to every curve I’d already memorized, already worshipped. The slit climbed high enough to make a priest weep, and the way it opened with each step—Jesus. She knew exactly what she was doing.She always did.The silk shimmered under the moonlight, catching shadows and bending them to her will. It clung to her hips, parted over her thigh, dared the world to look while reminding them they couldn’t touch. I’d watched heads turn all night. Watched men forget their wives, their careers, their fucking dignity just to stare.I didn’t speak. I didn’t have to.

Lana ReyesThe morning began with a flicker of static—not from the screen, but in my chest.My laptop sat like a corpse on the counter, its black screen reflecting my frown as I slammed the power button for the sixth—seventh?—time. Nothing. Just a soft whirr, then a click, and… nothing. Again.I jabbed the button harder, irrational hope clinging to each press like maybe this time the gods of tech would show mercy.“Come on, you useless piece of—”“You know,” came Nathan’s voice, smooth as scotch and twice as smug, “talking to it won’t help.”He was across the kitchen, lounging at the dining table in a crisp white shirt like he hadn’t already conquered the day before breakfast. His fingers moved across his laptop with lazy precision, steam rising from his mug in elegant spirals. He didn’t even look up.I wanted to hurl mine at his head.“It’s not funny,” I snapped. “My entire semester is on this thing.”He finally looked up, eyes cool and unreadable. “Did you back it up?”“Yes,” I hiss