Fifty Shades Of Lovia のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

The morning after was too quiet.Even the city outside my penthouse windows seemed to whisper instead of scream. The sunlight slipped lazily across my marble floors, licking at the hem of my robe as I sat with a glass of cherry juice and a breakfast untouched.My legs were crossed, hair slicked into a low bun, bare-faced but glowing with sin. The kind of glow that didn’t come from sleep.It came from last night.Alexander McQueen’s hands. His tongue. His greed.I didn’t regret it. But I wasn’t about to let it go undocumented in my head either.My phone buzzed beside me, dragging my attention away from the glimmering skyline.I reached for my phone, and saw them…Messages.The first was from Rueben. “Lovia, I know I messed up. Please… can I talk to you? Where do you live? I’ll come over and explain. I owe you that.”“Please Lovia… I’m sorry. Don’t shut me out.”I stared at his words. Regret, desperation… All too late. I didn’t respond, I didn’t block him either.Let him sit with the s

His words burned hotter than the fire in his eyes. “Then let me practice making you forget every other man’s name but mine.” he had said.And just like that, Shane stripped away the last pretense.I rolled my hips against him, gasping at the hard length pressing beneath his slacks. My robe slipped completely off, pooling at my elbows as his hands traveled up, fingers tracing every dangerous curve with reverence and heat.“I warned you,” I whispered, breathless as his mouth kissed down the curve of my throat.“I know,” he muttered against my skin. “But I stopped listening the moment you moaned my name.”His tongue flicked against the sensitive dip of my collarbone, then lower… dragging heat across my chest before his mouth wrapped around one nipple, sucking slow, deep, controlled.I arched beneath him, hands in his hair, back bowed. “Fuck, Shane…” I moaned.He groaned into my skin. “Say it again.”“Shane,” I gasped, voice trembling. “Doctor, sinner… whatever the hell you are… don’t st

Two days later, after having a great moment with Shane I began my first work. I arrived earlier than I thought I would. The McQueen company gleamed like a polished lie.Everything from the ivory marble floors to the gold-veined elevator doors whispered wealth and power. The receptionist offered me a trained smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as I stepped in.This was my new battlefield, my new way of getting into the YBA billionaire circle. Alejandro will never see this coming.The empire he built on charm, ruthlessness, and family money will soon crumble at it feet.I was wearing a sleek, body-hugging black dress that clung to every calculated curve, paired with scarlet heels and a matching red lipstick.I knew eyes would follow me, and I wanted them to. Let them watch. Let them wonder.Alexander met me by the executive elevator, dressed in his signature fitted grey suit, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the hint of a tattoo beneath his Rolex.“Lovia.” His voice dripped wit

Just as everyone was enjoying the wedding , I decided to give them the surprise.I sat near the front of the ballroom, legs elegantly crossed, a chilled glass of sparkling wine in hand. Shane sat beside me, his expression unreadable but his thigh pressed against mine—a silent show of support, curiosity, and maybe, just a hint of unease.“Is the media ready?” Isabella asked breathlessly, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she approached the stage in her gown. She looked like a fairytale wrapped in lavender silk and diamond dreams.“They’re all set, miss,” said one of her coordinators.Perfect, even I can't wait either.Alexander took his place beside her onstage, one arm wrapped around her waist like possession. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee announced, “as part of this evening’s celebration, we present to you a short video, a collection of sweet memories of our beloved couple, Alexander McQueen and Isabella Vance.”The lights dimmed completely and the ballroom stilled, then th

The boutique bags in my hand felt lighter than usual as I strutted through the underground parking garage. My heels echoed sharply on the cold concrete, and the lights above flickered, casting eerie shadows across the rows of luxury cars.I was still high off the victory.The media wouldn’t shut up about The Engagement Massacre. Everyone was eating it up. My DMs were full of anonymous tips, fake apologies, and discreet applause.But power has a scent. And predators can smell it.I reached my car, pressed the key fob.Beep. Click.The sound was barely audible over the sudden squeal of tires.Before I could turn, a hood was thrown over my head.I screamed, kicked, thrashed—but hands, rough and gloved, gripped me with surgical precision.My shopping bags fell to the floor, scattering overpriced perfume, silk lingerie, and blood-red lipstick across the garage.“Let go of me—!” I shouted.But a punch to the gut silenced me. The air left my lungs like glass shattering.Everything after th