All Chapters of Craving his control : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Mia didn’t argue. She didn’t ask where they were going, didn’t protest when Harry took her by the hand and led her straight out of The Ashwood through the rear exit. The city buzzed behind them, oblivious, while her heart pounded a thunderous beat that echoed through her ribs. Within minutes, she was in the backseat of his black SUV, the windows tinted dark enough to block out the world. Harry didn’t say a word. Neither did the driver. The silence was thick not awkward, but loaded. Mia sat stiffly, clutching her purse like it might protect her from whatever darkness was now circling her. Her mind replayed the image Harry had shown her at the bar again and again: her face frozen mid-step, taken just minutes before. It hadn’t been a coincidence. They were watching her. They knew she had the files. And now, she wasn’t just suspicious. She was marked. The car glided through the city with silent urgency, weaving between skyscrapers and late-night traffic until it turned i

Mia The taste of him lingered on my lips long after the kiss ended. Bourbon. Darkness. Power. Every time Harry touched me, it rewired something inside me something that couldn’t go back to being untouched. I stood, breathless, needing space. But space wasn’t something he allowed easily. “You keep saying you're dangerous,” I said quietly, not turning to face him. “But you’re the only one I feel safe with.” Behind me, I heard the subtle shift of leather as he leaned back in his chair. “Then you need to stop making me feel like I’m the one hurting you.” I turned. “Maybe it’s because you hide things from me. You say you’re trying to protect me—but what happens when protection turns into obsession?” His jaw ticked. “What we have is not obsession.” “Then what is it?” Silence. Then: “Something I don’t want to lose.” Those words, so simple, stripped me bare. Because under all his control, all the power and precision, Harry Declan was just a man trying not to shatter. But before I

Harry's pov The truth has a way of rotting in silence. And tonight, silence clung to every corner of the penthouse. No sound from Mia. No movement. Just the faint hum of the security system and the weight of all the things I hadn’t told her. I leaned against my office desk, eyes glued to the wall of monitors Caleb had installed yesterday. Live feeds from the building, the lobby, even the elevator shaft. Someone was inside this circle feeding information to whoever was targeting us. “Caleb,” I said into the encrypted call line. “Any movement?” His voice came through low, clipped. “Still digging. I traced the photo leak to a burner laptop near Brooklyn. But the device was wiped before we got there.” “Of course it was.” “But that’s not the problem,” he added. “The real problem is this—” He uploaded a file to my private screen. I clicked it. An audio recording crackled to life. "She’s emotionally invested. All it takes is one seed of doubt.” The voice wasn’t mine.

Olivia They always underestimated the woman behind the desk. The one with the red lipstick, the manicured hands, the perfect smile. The woman who stood beside billionaires, whispered in their ears, scheduled their power moves—and was invisible the second they turned their backs. But I’d been watching Harry Declan for years. Long before Mia. Long before the empire became untouchable. And I’d been planning. My apartment was everything I’d built myself into: clean, silent, sharp. No sentimental clutter. No framed photos. Just glass, metal, and cold air that never asked questions. I stood near the window in a black silk robe, watching the city pulse beneath me, while my laptop screen glowed behind me. File transfer: 92%. I’d spent the past three years compiling the data. Quietly. Strategically. I knew where Harry buried his secrets. I’d buried some of them for him myself. But he made one mistake. He fell for her. Mia. Naïve, soft-voiced Mia with her cheap perfume and idealis

Olivia Victory tasted like Dom Pérignon on a marble balcony overlooking a city I was about to own. The article had gone viral. The shares of Declan Enterprises dropped eleven percent in under eight hours. Investors were calling emergency meetings. The board was circling like wolves. And the media? Feeding on every rumor I gave them. “Anonymous source confirms shell companies used to launder funds.” “Female executive exploited in secret relationship with CEO.” “Declan Dynasty Collapsing?” I couldn’t have written it better myself. I stood in a thigh-high slit black dress, heels sharp as my tongue, holding a chilled glass in one hand and my phone in the other. “Cheers to silence,” I whispered, snapping a photo of the headlines on my laptop. “And the price of underestimating me.” He should’ve seen it coming. Harry always thought control came from money, from dominance, from power in the room. But I knew better. Real power lives in what people believe. And right now, they be