All Chapters of Forbidden Affairs : Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

The elevator doors opened into darkness.No lamps. No music. No scent of expensive cologne or clean linen. Just dark. And quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against the ears and made her breath sound too loud, too obvious, too human.She stepped inside anyway.Her heels clicked against concrete now, not marble. A shift in atmosphere. A different floor. Not the pristine penthouse from the first night. This space felt older, rawer. Less about beauty. More about control.Her chest rose and fell faster the deeper she walked. The air was cooler down here. The hallway narrower. She knew instinctively that tonight would be different. Not playful, not teasing. No silk or soft instructions. No aftercare.Tonight, he would take something.And she would let him.A spotlight clicked on—just one. It beamed down onto a square platform in the middle of a large open room. Everything else remained wrapped in shadow. Shapes loomed—tables, hooks, chains, a wall of shelves.She was already wet.“Take

She waited barefoot in the rain.The lobby attendant had said nothing when she walked past, soaked to the bone, black coat clinging to her skin, nothing underneath but skin and heat and expectation. The elevator rose in silence. Her heart didn’t. It stayed low, somewhere in her belly, throbbing like the ache between her legs.She didn’t know what was left of her after last night.Only that she wanted more.The seventh floor opened into shadow.Not dim. Not moody.Pitch-black.The lights were off. The windows covered. The silence wasn’t absence. It was weight. Pressure.She stepped in.The door clicked shut behind her.He said nothing.She stood there for a long time, dripping.Finally, she heard him.“Take it off.”Her fingers trembled as they moved to the buttons. She pulled the coat open slowly, the wet fabric peeling from her skin. Beneath, she wore nothing. She hadn’t been told to, but she knew better by now. She knew what he liked. What he expected.The coat fell to the floor.He

He made her wait outside his office for twenty minutes.She stood in the hallway in heels and a long coat, nothing underneath, hands folded behind her back like he told her. No speaking to the receptionist. No checking her phone. No shifting from foot to foot. She had to stand perfectly still, perfectly silent, her nipples hard beneath the coat and her thighs already wet from anticipation.When he opened the door, he didn’t greet her. He simply stepped aside and gestured.She walked in.The lights were lower than usual.The couch was gone.In its place was a black leather chair in the center of the room, a velvet-covered stool beside it, and a single word written in chalk on the floor beneath: OBEY.“Coat off,” he said.She let it fall to the floor.His eyes raked over her body. Naked. Ready. Collared. Her breathing shallow. Her cheeks already flushed. She didn’t speak. She had learned that lesson. The bruises on her thighs still reminded her of the night she failed to obey quickly en

The music pulsed like a heartbeat through the underground walls, low and hypnotic. A rhythm built for sinners, not dancers. Smoke coiled in the air, mingling with the scent of sweat, leather, and expensive perfume. Everyone in that club wanted to forget something. And Isla? She wanted to forget everything.She sat alone in the crimson booth, legs crossed, fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. Her wine was untouched. Her dress was black, sheer in places it shouldn’t be, clinging to her curves like a secret waiting to be exposed. The club was a mask. So was she.Then she felt it—eyes on her. Heavy. Predatory. She didn’t look immediately. She waited. Teased it out. Let the gaze crawl over her skin like heat. And when she finally tilted her head just slightly, her eyes locked with his.He stood at the far end of the bar, half shrouded in darkness, like even the lights didn’t dare touch him too much. Tall. Sharp features. Slick black hair. A dark suit that looked criminal on him. And

Isla didn’t know how she made it through the rest of the day. Her legs trembled with every step. Her mind was a battlefield of shame and desire. She tried to pretend that everything was fine, that she was still in control. But every time she shifted in her seat and felt the slick reminder of what had happened in Damon’s office, she knew better.She avoided his gaze in meetings. He didn’t try to catch hers.He didn’t need to.He had already branded himself on her skin.By the time evening came, she had resolved to clear her head. To go home, pour herself something strong, and pretend she hadn’t let her boss fuck her over his desk like she was nothing more than a desperate whore. She told herself she’d delete his meeting request. Block his number if he ever called.But when she reached her apartment and turned on the lights, her heart dropped.There was something on her coffee table.A black envelope. No stamp. No name. Just her address, written in perfect handwriting.She stared at it