Taming the billionaire's heart のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

"They say love is the most powerful force in the world. But if you've only seen it as a weapon, how do you ever learn to trust it?" She should have written the house number down. Or maybe ask one more time before hanging up. But she’d been in a rush, standing at the payphone with her heart hammering in her chest, too afraid her father would walk in and snatch her right back to that miserable house. Now, standing in front of a row of identical apartment doors, dragging her ugly, beaten suitcase behind her, she realized she was lost. Again. The night air was thick with the city’s scent fried food, car fumes, and something she couldn’t name. She wasn’t used to this. Back home, nights were quieter, broken only by the occasional shouting match between her parents or the sound of a bottle smashing against a wall. Here, everything felt bigger, faster, like she might get swallowed whole if she stood still for too long. A group of boys and girls stood by the sidewalk, their laughter c

Kyrie groaned, rolling over and stretching lazily until her eyes snapped open. Something felt off. She sat up, blinking at the silence. No Mandy humming in the kitchen, no rustling sounds from the living room. Why was the house so quiet? Her eyes darted to the clock on the bedside table. 8:00 AM. Her stomach plummeted. "Shit!" She flung the blanket aside and bolted to the bathroom, heart racing. How had she overslept? Was Mandy not home why hadn’t she woken her up? After what had to be the fastest shower of her life, she sprinted back into the room, dripping water onto the floor as she yanked open her suitcase. Her hands hovered over the red dress Mandy had picked out for her. But her gaze drifted to the vintage outfit from her suitcase the one she’d really wanted to wear. Was it really wrong to be herself? The café staff and the manager hadn’t cared what she wore when she showed up yesterday, and besides why hide who she was? With a deep breath, she pulled on t

The clock struck midnight. Its chime drifted through the Reynolds estate, splitting the silence open.. From his armchair, Cassian sat still, back stiff, a glass of whiskey in his hand untouched. He hated this room. The smell of old paper and polished wood.The air felt heavy with decisions made by men long dead, and every breath he took tasted like obedience he resented. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, untouched by time and untouched by wonder. His grandfather’s study stood like a shrine to legacy. One he never volunteered to kneel before. “Cass,” the old man said from across the room, voice slow and heavy. “You’ve been avoiding this long enough.”“I haven’t avoided anything,” he replied, eyes still on his glass. “I’ve simply been uninterested.”Grandfather grunted. “You’re thirty-two. It’s time you started acting like a Reynolds.”Cassian smirked into his drink. “And what exactly does that mean? Cold, brutal, and bored to death of life?”The silence that followed fe

The bar was quieter than it had been earlier. Low lights. Soft jazz humming like a heartbeat. Cassian Wycliffe Reynolds slid onto the stool at the end of the counter, loosening the top button of his shirt. He looked like he’d walked off a film set sharp jawline, undone tie, and eyes full of thoughts too raw for polite company. Leo the bartender, an older man with neat salt-and-pepper hair and a knack for reading moods, slid him a glass of scotch without being asked. “Found her, then?” he said, drying a tumbler. Cassian took a sip before answering. “Yeah.” Leo raised an eyebrow. “So? Is she the one?” Cassian’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “Yes… and no.” Leo stilled. “What the hell does that mean?” Cassian leaned in, elbows on the bar, like he was finally admitting something to himself.“She’s the girl. The one who went head tohead with Lucian the other day.” That earned a pause. “The girl who told your cousin off? What about her?” “She works in the same building no

Sebastián stood in the kitchen, hands on his hips, scanning the small space like a soldier preparing for battle.“Okay…” he muttered. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”He opened the fridge, half-expecting it to be empty, but was pleasantly surprised to find a tray of beef strips, a few bell peppers, garlic, onions, a carton of eggs, and a container of leftover rice.“Bingo.”Without another thought, he rolled up his sleeves, tied on a faded apron hanging near the stove, he guessed it was Mandy’s and got to work. Within minutes, the kitchen filled with the savory aroma of garlic sizzling in oil. He tossed in the beef strips, then the peppers and onions, his movements showed someone who spent most of his time in the kitchen. A separate pan held the rice, sizzling with soy sauce, a bit of sugar, and scrambled egg mixed in. He tasted the sauce and smiled. “Still got it.”Just as he plated the food a hearty dish of stir-fried beef with egg rice and peppers a soft gasp came from behind.