All Chapters of Mister Dream Man: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

* Jana *That evening I was alone in the a parent, no longer worried about my safety. It was supposed to be just ordinary. I had set out my clothes for tomorrow's shift, pressed the blouse smooth on the chair's backrest, and left my shoes by the door. The kettle whistled in the kitchen while I pinned my hair loosely, ready to wind down with tea and the soft hum of the city outside my window. I cleaned my place and now it is even more comfy.The three knocks on my door suddenly made me stop.I startled, the sound pulling me from my rhythm. My heart skipped, and for one irrational second I thought of shadows from the Pitmans again. But when I opened the door, I froze.A man in a crisp uniform stood there with his arms full of flowers. Roses. Not just red, but white, pink, yellow, even the rare lavender blooms I had only ever seen in magazines. And it wasn't just one bouquet, it was a dozen there were plenty of them behind him. My tiny hallway filled with their scent as he carried them i

* Lawrence *I stood by the window of my office, watching the city spread beneath me in all its restless motion, but my eyes weren't on the skyline. My thoughts were on Jane, my only daughter."She's my only child, Harris," I muttered, my hand tightening against the glass pane. "If anything happens to her."Behind me, Harris is seated on the couch, he shifted. He had been my head of security for many years, unflinching in the face of scandals, rivals, and threats that shadowed the Dankworth family. But this was different. This wasn't about business, this was Jane."She's safe, sir," Harris said firmly, but I heard the slight strain under his voice. "We've doubled her escorts since last week. Drivers know the protocols. Her routes are monitored. No one gets close without our eyes on them.""Not enough." My words cut sharper than I intended. I turned then, meeting his gaze. "They came after me, Harris. They won't hesitate to use her as leverage. If I can't keep my daughter safe, then w

* James *From where I stood, across the narrow street from the Gordon mansion, I could see the flood of golden lights spilling through tall arched windows. The laughter that is being carried faintly on the night air, the kind that only comes from people too rich to worry about anything but the next round of champagne. Expensive cars lined the circular driveway, polished like mirrors, and a string quartet's faint strains slipped out whenever the double doors opened for another guest.It looked like every camera-flash party I'd ever been forced to watch over, but my eyes weren't on the crowd. My eyes were on the reason why I am here.Jane Dankworth. She swept inside with her driver Thomas, trailing at a polite distance, head held high, a little too quick in her steps. Like she wanted to get away from the world outside, or maybe prove she wasn't afraid of it. She didn't see me in the shadows, she never would because I am not meant to be seen by her tonight, not if I did my job right.My

* Jane Dankworth *For a split second, the party went quiet. The music had stopped, the murmurs from the guests died, and all that was left was the sound of my own pulse, like a desperate, and ragged rhythm in my ears. And then I saw him.The man whose standing in the doorway wasn't dressed like anyone else in the room. His shirt was dark, plain, not formalwear, and his stance, the way he held himself, spoke of violence that he didn't need to prove. The light caught his face just enough to reveal sharp lines and eyes that burned. Eyes that had haunted me since the day I saw him on campus, when our paths crossed by accident and something in that gaze had held me frozen longer than I cared to admit.Those eyes again. Unmistakable, cold and steady, but underneath there was something else, something that I had no name for.He moved forward, deliberate and fluid, as if the chaos that is bending around us didn't exist. The kidnappers stiffened, one of them reached for his gun, but the stran

* Jane Dankworth * I can't remember when I lost consciousness but the last thing I remembered was that stranger helping Thomas. Then I opened my eyes and the first thing I felt was the weight of the air, thick, still, humming faintly with the sound of machines. I felt my eyelids were heavy, glued shut by sleep and something deeper than exhaustion. When I finally pried my eyes open wider, the ceiling above me swam into focus, white, sterile, interrupted only by the thin, silver hook of an IV line. Then I feel the soft warmth around my hand, fingers curled over mine. I recognized my mother's voice that broke the silence, low and trembling. The warmth of her hand put me back in reality. "Jane, sweetheart? Are you awake?" I turned my head slowly towards her voice. The motion sent a dull ache through my skull, but seeing her was worth it. Sitting beside me was my mother, Jana Dankworth, she looks immaculate even in her worry. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her lipstick had faded, but