A private deal with the billionaire ceo のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

It had been three days since I last saw Damon.It had been three days since he'd spoken to me, since I'd heard his voice cut through a briefing or felt the keen weight of his stare during training. Three days of sending texts that were never returned, of phone calls that went unanswered, of waiting and waiting till silence crept over me like a heavy cloud.I attempted to maintain my regimen. Wake up early. Lace my boots. Perform drills. But without him beside me, every movement felt hollow. My strikes lost their rhythm, and my muscles sagged under weights. I used to push through. Missions came and went, and I turned them all down, muttering about my leg even though the ache was practically gone. The excuse was worn thin, but I clung to it anyway. Because the truth was harder to admit: my will was gone.It had always been for him. From the first moment I followed him into this world, I’d carried that fire to prove myself worthy. That I was strong enough to stand beside him, sharp enough

The necklace felt heavier than it should, the fine chain pressing against my collarbone like a shackle. Damon stood behind me, his hands deft, steady as he clasped it into place.“Hold still,” he murmured.I froze. His fingers grazed the back of my neck, hot against my skin despite how brief the touch was. A shiver ran down my spine, and I nearly turned, nearly told him the words I’d been holding back all day — I’m sorry. For earlier. For all of it.But then I looked up. Our eyes met in the mirror, his gaze dark and unreadable, mine caught between apology and longing. And the words died in my throat.His hand lingered an instant too long before he withdrew. We pulled apart, but not before the tension burned itself into the air between us.“Ready?” Damon asked, his voice clipped.No. Not even close. But I nodded anyway.---The auction hall gleamed with gold trim and crystal chandeliers. It was supposed to be classy, exclusive — but underneath the polish, it reeked of danger. The people

The corridors of the hotel extended infinitely, each footfall resonating softly on marble floors gleaming gently. It was now late; the magnificence that filled these hallways earlier in the evening had faded into soft whispers behind shut doors. A wandering servant moved silently with a silver tray, his gaze cast down as if the ornate walls were observing him.The hotel referred to itself as contemporary, yet each surface echoed of a bygone era, one of aristocrats and noble lineages. Decorative brass sconces illuminated warm golden light on the walls, wine-hued velvet drapes framed tall windows, and portraits of serious aristocrats looked down from their gilded frames. The stonework of the wings had survived centuries, untouched, as if determined to hold its dignity against the creeping influence of neon.I followed the hush until I found myself at the far terrace of the west wing. It opened to a view so enchanting that it stole the air from my chest. The stone balustrade was draped i

Sleep never came.I spent the night tossing beneath silk sheets that felt far too smooth and far too cold for the storm building in my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. The man in white, his aura as intimidating as the first time I ever laid eyes on him. Every time I tried to breathe steady, I remembered Damon’s voice from last night, steady and final, cutting me open with his refusal to let me in.Before I knew it, dawn crept over the horizon, pale light spilling across the velvet curtains, I was wired with exhaustion and yet unable to keep still. The hotel around me felt different this morning. It felt sharper, heavier, like it knew what the day would bring. The chatter in the corridors was muted, replaced by hurried footsteps and the quick flicker of suspicious glances. Even the chandeliers that gleamed down from high arches seemed colder, as though the vintage-luxury design couldn’t mask the rot that threaded beneath it.The auction was moving closer to its climax, an

I barely remembered closing my eyes. Sleep had come in broken fragments, shattered by the memory of Mrs. Clove lying lifeless on the marble floor and the heat of Damon’s hands holding me long after Santorini had tried to corner me. Even now, with the morning light seeping through the sheer curtains, my body buzzed with restless energy.For the first time since this mission began, I hadn’t slept alone. Damon slept right beside me. Not on the couch, not keeping his distance, but next to me on the wide hotel bed. His presence filled the room more than the vintage furniture, more than the carved gold fixtures on the walls.And it didn’t feel fake anymore.I sat up slowly, pushing a hand through my hair. The hotel’s luxury pressed against my senses. From the velvet drapes, polished oak floors to a chandelier whose crystals threw fractured light across the room yet beneath it all I still felt that sharp undertone of danger, like the whole place was a trap disguised in silk and marble.When