Semua Bab Taming The Charming Director: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Arnav wasn’t speaking. He didn’t pause. Didn’t hesitate. His silence was a language of its own. A storm of emotion too deep for words. He was heat and fury and lust made flesh. He seemed focused only on her, on shedding every layer of barrier between them. Fabric, pride, fear. His hands roamed her body like a map he’d once memorized but hadn’t touched in far too long. She felt the bite of his hunger in every kiss, every brush of his fingers as they traveled down her thighs and slipped beneath the last layers of silk that still dared to stand between them.She gasped again when her hip bumped the edge of the desk, a brief sting of pain gone in an instant as his mouth met hers once more, stealing her breath, stealing her thoughts. Papers scattered, pens clattered to the floor, but neither of them cared. He lifted her with shocking ease and sat her on the desk, clearing it with a careless sweep of his arm.He stood between her legs now, his eyes fixed on her like a man torn between reve

The words fell like a stone in Raellyn’s stomach. Raellyn swallowed hard. The weight of his pain settled over her like a thick fog. Every word he spoke felt like thunder in a sky that never cleared.Regret surged through her like a tide. She knew the story—yes—but hearing it now, from Arnav’s perspective, made her heart ache in a new and unbearable way. He had been just a child in desperate need of his mother’s love, only to be met with betrayal and abandonment. No one was innocent in this tale. Not his mother. Not his father. And certainly not Arnav, who had been forced to survive the wreckage left by both.She finally saw what he had done. Distancing himself from his mother hadn’t been an act of hate, but a desperate attempt to protect himself from further hurt. And yet, even that act of self-preservation had failed to bring him peace. The wound remained, buried but never healed.And then came the letter.The damn letter.The one Raellyn hadn’t expected. She had lied only to provoke

Now he was gentle. Attentive.How quickly a man could shift, unraveling the lines between dominance and vulnerability.Was this a masculine mystery? Or was this uniquely Arnav. A paradox written in the language of heat and longing?The distance between them began to vanish, bit by bit. Every breath they took seemed to nudge them closer.When their noses brushed in passing, Raellyn let her eyes flicker briefly to his slightly parted lips before fluttering shut. And then without a second thought, she closed her eyes. Surrendering herself to the collision she knew was coming. Ya, She welcomed the kiss. A warm, damp meeting of mouths that seemed to melt every shred of resistance she might have had. It bloomed across her lips like a sudden summer rain. Soft, wet, consuming.Raellyn’s fingers curled at the back of his shirt, clutching the fabric as if bracing herself for the surge that followed. When Arnav gently pulled her lower lip into his mouth. He drew in her lower lip with deliberate

“No,” he said, a sharp edge returning to his tone. “Because I know you don’t regret what you did, Raellyn,” Arnav added, his tone edged with bitter amusement.The look of fabricated guilt Raellyn had been wearing slowly shifted into something more genuine. A mischievous smile blooming for reasons known only to her. It was bold, unapologetically hers. The smile of a woman who would always do what she thought was right, no matter the cost.Arnav exhaled slowly. God, she was infuriating and yet… it didn’t bother him anymore.In fact, it was that very fire, that fearless resolve, that had shattered his defenses from the start. He was learning to make peace with it, even embrace it.“I’ve come to accept that you’ll never be the obedient, quiet wife that others might expect,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “And maybe… that’s exactly why I can’t stop falling for you.”Raellyn's lips parted in surprise, then curved into something deeper, softer, full of affection. But he

The group of guests, consisting of one man and two women was welcomed into the grand estate by Mrs. Maddy, the long-serving housekeeper, who led them through the lavish threshold of Arnav’s home. Their footsteps fell quietly against the polished marble floor, though the air around them was thick with judgment, their eyes roaming the opulent space with veiled disdain. When she informed them that Arnav was not at home, he cast her a look of mild protest. It was not the look of a man scolding a servant, but rather that of someone uncertain, quietly pleading for understanding.The dining room, draped in bold tones of black and gold, stood like a silent monument to Arnav’s meticulous taste. Intimidating and distant. The older man, heavyset and edging into his fifties, wore discomfort like a second skin. He seemed to take issue with Mrs. Maddy from the moment she politely informed them that Arnav was not home. His protest, though silent, echoed in the way his eyes flicked toward her. Not ou