All Chapters of In Lust with my Sexy Boss: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Chapter Sixty TwoJulian’s POVDarkness crashes in like a wave, thick, suffocating, absolute.The overhead lights snap off with a fizz and hum, leaving us buried in black silence. No glow from emergency strips. No red security strobes. Nothing.Just breathing. Mine, harsh and ragged. Aria’s, too shallow and fast.And his somewhere in front of us. Laughing.“Aria,” I breathe, fingers closing tighter around her wrist. “Don’t move.”My other hand goes to my belt. I still have the blade. But I need my eyes. I need to see.Footsteps echo, left? Right? Impossible to track. The dark warps everything.Aria’s grip tightens on me. She’s trembling again, but not like before. This isn’t fear. This is something more primal. A panic I can feel crawling under her skin.I pull her behind me as I inch forward, back to the wall. The corridor smells of blood, smoke, and adrenaline.And then, his voice.“You really think you can keep her safe in here? Blind? Slower than me? You’ve never been good at losi

Chapter Sixty FourAria’s POVThe moment the door hissed shut, silence didn’t return.There was a high-pitched hum, a mechanical heartbeat beneath the surface of the room. It pulsed through the floor, through the metal table, into my spine like a warning. The overhead lights flickered again, and I swore the shadows were breathing.Focus, Aria.My wrists throbbed, the zip cuffs cutting off circulation. I shifted slightly, pain lanced through my shoulder where they’d hit me with something earlier, but it grounded me. Pain was real. Pain was mine.A cloned face couldn’t steal that.I tested the restraints again. No give.They hadn’t underestimated me. That was almost flattering.Almost.My eyes scanned the room. It looked like an interrogation chamber, sterile with glass-paneled walls, and a single vent high in the ceiling. Too small for a body. No sharp corners, nothing on the table except the imprint of my own sweat and fear. The screen on the wall was dark now, but I knew what it had

Chapter Sixty SixAria’s POVThe door slammed shut behind me like the final note in a funeral dirge.I stood frozen, adrenaline howling through my bloodstream, staring at them.Julian’s hands had just been on her. His lips, his mouth, on her.Her, who looked like me. Sounded like me. Moved like me.But wasn’t me.The clone smirked at me from across the room, eyes gleaming like the monster she was. She didn’t even flinch when Julian spun around, instinctively pulling his weapon, but it was too late.She pressed the trigger to her chest.A red beeping began, vibrating through the floor.“Too late,” she whispered again, smug, as if she’d already won.The room dimmed, red lights blinking to life in the corners, syncing with the pulse of the detonation countdown.Ten seconds.Julian cursed. “MOVE!”He reached for me, but I stepped back.My body shook, not from the threat of the explosion, but from the sight of him.His jaw was clenched. His brows drawn tight in panic. But I saw it. I saw

Chapter Sixty EightAria’s POVThe echo of the locker door clanging shut lingers in my chest.I spin around.The hallway is empty. Cold, black mirrors line every wall. No shadows. No light. Just me, alone.The air hummed, charged as if the walls themselves held their breath.And then the glass rippled.A figure stepped out.Julian.My Julian.His eyes found mine, steady and warm, but the air around him was wrong, fractured.Behind him, the actual Julian’s reflection stared too. Yet watching him was impossible. It felt like his reflection wanted to be him.I knelt on the floor, lungs burning as blood roiled through me.“Wha..”“I know,” said the Julian standing before me. Voice cold. Controlled.“Not real.”My heart seized. Hunted me with fear.Footsteps behind me. I turned, only to find another Julian stepping out. The real one, pressed against the mirrored wall, confusion chasing pain in his eyes.The imposter, closer. Not mirrored. Planed and sharpened.He held something between us:

Chapter Seventy Aria’s POVThe silence in the safe house was loud.He sat across from me, Julian, or the man who wore his face like it was his own. The fire crackled softly between us, shadows dancing across the planes of his expression. Every inch of him screamed familiarity, the way his hand curved around the chipped mug, the soft scrape of his boot against the wooden floor, the low hum of his voice when he said my name.But something inside me refused to rest.My body was taut, my pulse quick. I could feel the electric current of uncertainty under my skin, crawling, whispering.“You haven’t said much,” he murmured, his voice the same deep register that used to lull me to sleep. “Not since we got back.”I set the tea down, hands trembling slightly. “Maybe I’m still processing. A lot happened back there.”He nodded slowly. “We made it out. That’s what matters.”Is it?I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and tell him I missed him, that I was so