บททั้งหมดของ Forbidden Affairs : บทที่ 151 - บทที่ 160

Lena was late. Again.She barely cared.The rain had drenched her on the way, her white blouse sticking to her skin like a second, unforgiving layer. The thin fabric clung to the curve of her breasts, nipples sharply outlined beneath, bra completely transparent. Her plaid skirt wasn’t much better, hitched high up her thighs, damp and creased, as if she’d rolled out of bed and straight into the storm.Mr. Draven’s door loomed in front of her, slightly ajar. She didn’t bother knocking. She never did.He was seated at the desk, dark slacks crisply ironed, black shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His glasses sat low on his nose as he scribbled something with that precise, ruthless hand. The sharp angles of his jaw, the way his lips pressed into a thin line when he saw her — it wasn’t new. Draven’s disapproval always painted his face like that. The kind of expression that should intimidate. It never worked on her.“You’re late.” His voice was low, steady, but the underlying tension w

The apartment was filled with harmless chatter, the clink of wine glasses, and the kind of casual energy that meant no one expected trouble. But she should have known better. Trouble had a way of walking in unannounced, wearing a smirk and a leather jacket.She had been dating Leah for almost six months, and tonight was supposed to be a cozy little gathering—just a few friends, some wine, and a night of games and laughter. Leah had been in the kitchen, fussing over a charcuterie board, while she herself had been tasked with making sure the guests had drinks.What she wasn’t prepared for was the man who showed up without knocking, pushing the door open like he owned the place.She didn’t know him, but the resemblance was immediate. The sharp jawline, the piercing green eyes, and the same dark, wavy hair that Leah always hated. Except on him, it worked. On him, it was dangerous.“Hey, sis,” he said, tossing his keys on the table, like this was his place, like he belonged.Leah’s reactio

She should have ignored the message.Ethan: Come over. We need to “plan” Leah’s surprise party. Don’t make me come get you.It was a trap, obvious and blunt. But traps only work when the prey is willing to walk into them.She found herself standing outside his apartment door fifteen minutes later, cursing herself for giving in. Every fiber of her rational mind screamed for her to turn back. But her body was already betraying her—the heat, the ache, the dark need he had awakened still simmering beneath her skin.The door swung open before she could knock.Ethan stood there, shirtless, wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants that barely clung to his hips. His chest was a carved map of muscle, his smirk the signature of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.“Took you long enough,” he said, stepping aside to let her in. His fingers brushed her lower back as she passed, light but purposeful.The apartment was minimalistic. Dark furniture, heavy curtains, and a faint scent of whiskey a

The city was shutting down.That much was certain as she stood outside the towering glass building that housed Harrington & Vale, the law firm that had consumed her life for the past two years. The streets, once alive with noise and chaos, now felt eerie. The usual hum of traffic was replaced with silence, the kind that settled deep into your bones.She shouldn’t be here.Everyone else had been sent home hours ago after the official lockdown announcement. The entire firm had scrambled to close deals, shift meetings to virtual, and secure work-from-home setups. Yet, her phone had buzzed with a direct message that left no room for negotiation.Come to the penthouse floor. Now. – Mr. HarringtonIt wasn’t phrased as a request.She had considered ignoring it, but ignoring him was never a viable option. Especially not when the message was quickly followed by another.Mr. Vale is waiting too. Don’t make us come down to get you.Her heart had pounded reading that. The two senior partners—Leon

The conference room was cold. Not because of the air conditioning, but because of who was waiting inside.Leon sat at the head of the polished oak table, sleeves rolled up, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm. Marcus was sprawled across one of the leather chairs, spinning a pen between his fingers with the casual ease of a man who had all the time in the world to break someone.And she was their target.“Sit,” Leon ordered, gesturing to the chair positioned deliberately in the middle of the room, exposed from all angles.She obeyed, her legs stiff as she perched on the edge, hyper-aware of their eyes.Marcus leaned forward, his grin lazy but his tone sharp. “Let’s talk about yesterday.”Her stomach knotted. She knew exactly what they meant. The defiance, the subtle resistance—they hadn’t forgotten.“You’ve been difficult,” Leon said, standing slowly, buttoning his cuffs as if preparing for a surgical procedure. “And difficult employees require… correction.”Marcus’s chair creaked