All Chapters of Forbidden Affairs : Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

The elevator ride felt longer than it should have.Ava stood in silence, her body humming, nerves tingling with anticipation and fear. She had obeyed—hadn’t touched herself, hadn’t washed the evidence of last night’s torment from her skin. She still wore the same lace panties under her trench coat, the same high heels, her hair brushed but otherwise untouched.She was a mess of desire before he even touched her.When the elevator doors opened, she stepped into the penthouse level of the exclusive Hotel Bellerose. No reception. Just a black door with a gold handle and the number 13 etched into it. She hesitated only a second before knocking.It swung open without a sound.He stood there again—immaculate, cold, unreadable. A charcoal gray shirt stretched across his chest, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms like sculpted stone. He didn’t speak. He just stepped aside, letting her in.The room smelled of spice and leather.And something darker.Her eyes took in the suite: walls painted m

The room was warm, but Ava’s skin was fire.She stood behind the curtain of the club’s private lounge, dressed in nothing but scarlet lace and stilettos. Her lips were painted blood red, her hair pulled back in a tight knot, exposing the collar still buckled around her neck—but this time, it wasn’t a mark of submission.It was a weapon.He had summoned her again, same hour, same game.But this time, she arrived early. This time, she set the scene.The lights in the room were dim. The mirrors covered. A single leather armchair sat in the center. She stood beside it, waiting, legs crossed, wine glass in hand.The door creaked open.He entered, dressed in black as always, his eyes calm, controlled. But the moment he saw her, something flickered behind his gaze—curiosity, maybe even caution.She said nothing.He tilted his head. “You’re early.”“I wanted to prepare something special,” she purred.His brow lifted.“You disobeyed the rules.”“I rewrote them.”She took a slow sip of wine, le

The gallery was quiet after hours, the marble floors gleaming beneath the glow of modern chandeliers. Maya moved between the paintings slowly, but her mind wasn’t on the brushstrokes or canvases.It was on him.She hadn’t called the number. She hadn’t replied to the note.But she had done exactly what it said.Her black slip dress clung to her bare skin like a second breath. No bra. No panties. Just heat pulsing between her thighs and the whisper of silk against her nipples every time she moved. She didn’t understand why she listened to him. She only knew that she had.And she wanted more.The sharp click of the front door latch echoed through the gallery.She froze.She should’ve been alone.She turned.It was him.Dark clothes again. No smile. Just presence. That same deliberate walk. That same steady gaze that peeled her open without even touching her.“I didn’t invite you,” she said, voice a little too thin.“You did,” he replied, locking the door behind him. “When you obeyed me.”

The night was quiet. Too quiet.Sienna sat in the rocking chair, her silk robe barely clinging to one shoulder, her baby latched to her breast, the soft sound of suckling the only thing filling the nursery. The warm weight of her newborn soothed her, lulled her into the kind of daze only exhaustion and hormones could cause.And then she felt it.That presence.A breath too still.A silence that wasn’t hers.Her head turned.He stood in the doorway.Liam.Her brother’s former business partner. The man whose betrayal sent half her family into ruin and the other half into rage. He’d served five years. And now, due to some absurd loophole—“parole housing restrictions”—he was placed in their family guesthouse, only thirty feet from the main house. Her father was livid. Her mother refused to speak to him. But Sienna had no say.She just had to live with it.And now he stood there. In her space. In the dark. Watching her feed.Her grip on the baby tightened slightly.“You shouldn’t be in her

The penthouse was quiet.Too clean.Too controlled.She stood barefoot on the polished marble floor, her heels tucked under the chair he told her to wait in. The city lights glowed behind the glass wall that stretched floor to ceiling. Below, the world pulsed. But up here, she was somewhere else. Somewhere she didn’t belong.Not yet.The silence felt like a challenge.She crossed her legs. Uncrossed them. Ran a nervous hand down her black skirt. No makeup tonight, just his request: bare skin, hair up, no jewelry, no distractions.Seven days. That’s what he offered.Seven days of surrender.Seven days of being his.No names. No kisses. No pretending. Just his rules. His voice. His hands.She told herself she wasn’t desperate. But her bank account said otherwise. Rent was due. Her phone was on the verge of getting shut off. And her pride? She sold that the second she agreed to come.She was about to stand and leave when the doors opened.And he walked in.He didn’t look at her at first.