Semua Bab When Love Crosses the Line: Bab 101 - Bab 110

Amara walked aimlessly through the streets of Mayfair, her heels clicking against wet pavement as a drizzle fell. She didn’t care where she was going; she only knew she couldn’t stay. Every word Adrian had said echoed in her mind, cold, sharp, final. Words that had sliced through her with the precision of a blade, leaving her raw and hollow.The city around her carried on with indifferent grace. Cars hissed along slick roads, headlights blurring into streaks of light in the rain. Umbrellas bloomed like dark flowers over strangers’ heads, shielding them from the drizzle. But Amara moved through it unguarded, as though she welcomed the rain’s sting. Perhaps it was easier to let the sky weep with her, to disguise her own tears in its steady fall.She sank onto a bench tucked beneath the arch of an old lamppost, her silk dress clinging damply to her skin. It had been foolish, she realized, to dress so beautifully for a night that ended in ruin. Her makeup was ruined, her hair plastered to

Amara had not planned to end up at Naomi’s flat. Her feet had carried her there almost on instinct, guided by the pull of familiarity and the promise of comfort she couldn’t seem to find anywhere else. By the time she arrived, her hands were trembling, her throat raw from swallowing back the tears she hadn’t wanted anyone to see.Naomi opened the door in her usual effortless way, her hair wrapped in a silk scarf, wearing an oversized shirt that looked like it had been borrowed from one of her brothers. She didn’t ask any questions at first. She simply stepped aside and let Amara in, the kind of silent welcome that only a best friend could give.The small flat smelled faintly of jasmine tea and old books. A half-finished painting leaned against the wall, brushes scattered around it like fallen soldiers. Naomi had always lived in colour, in texture, in art that refused to be quiet. Amara envied that about her, how she seemed to turn every corner of her life into a canvas, while Amara’s

The envelope lay on Amara’s small coffee table, heavy with silent authority. Its cream-colored paper gleamed under the faint afternoon light streaming through the blinds, as though daring her to open it. The gold-embossed seal of Sinclair Enterprises glared up at her, mocking and magnetic all at once. She had stared at it for what felt like hours, her fingertips grazing its smooth surface, her chest tightening with each passing second.A week had passed since that night, the argument, the walk away, the silence that followed. A week since she told herself she was done with Adrian Sinclair and the mess his world had dragged her into. And yet here it was, an invitation from him.Her first instinct was to tear it apart, shred it into confetti that would scatter across her apartment floor. But her hand froze, trembling. Curiosity lingered, yes, but so did something far more dangerous, hope.She inhaled sharply, slid a finger under the flap, and carefully broke the seal. Inside, the invita

The ballroom pulsed with energy, champagne glasses clinking, laughter weaving with the orchestra’s crescendos, diamonds flashing beneath the crystal chandeliers. Amara walked with deliberate poise, each step measured, each smile faint but controlled. She refused to let Adrian’s presence unravel her, even after the sting of Victoria’s claim still burned against her chest.She had almost made it to the far end of the room when a man intercepted her path. He was tall, effortlessly charming, his salt-and-pepper hair styled neatly above a strong jaw. His tuxedo fit him as though it had been stitched to his skin, and his smile carried the practiced ease of a man who had charmed his way into countless conversations.“Miss…” His accent was crisp, European. He handed her a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray, bowing his head slightly. “…for you. It feels almost criminal that you should be standing here alone.”Amara blinked, caught off guard by his boldness. She accepted the glass pol

The last trembling notes of the waltz lingered in the air like the dying heartbeat of something precious. Amara’s body still moved in rhythm, though the orchestra had gone silent. Her breath came unevenly, betraying the storm within.And then it happened.Adrian leaned close, his lips grazing the edge of her ear. His voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through her defenses like a blade.“I can’t let you go, Amara.”The words lodged deep inside her chest. They weren’t sharp or commanding, as she had expected. They were raw. Fragile. Almost desperate.Her pulse stumbled, her gaze snapping upward to meet his. For once, Adrian Sinclair, the man who ruled boardrooms and brokered billion-dollar deals with ruthless precision, looked unmasked. His eyes, a stormy blue she knew too well, held no armor, no games, only a vulnerability that unsettled her more than any display of his power ever had.She opened her mouth to respond, but before her voice could find shape, the spell broke.The musi