Todos os capítulos de Dirty and Sinful Collection (erotica) : Capítulo 261 - Capítulo 270

9Amelia.The air in our house felt poisoned and thick with secrets.For days I’d sensed it brewing. The looks had worsened at church. And now there was the stiff silence from my mother, the way my father’s hand hovered over my shoulder but never quite touched. I tried to pretend I was the same daughter I’d always been, but my body gave me away: I flinched when anyone brushed too close, my eyes darting to doors and windows, always watching for Nathan, always afraid someone else was too.I heard the news before I saw it—the rumors flaring hotter than ever, someone had seen us in the office, or thought they had, and tongues were wagging like banners in a storm. My phone vibrated with frantic texts from choir girls, a message from my mother that was just a single, breathless question: Is there something I need to know?My father found me in the kitchen, the late sun slanting gold through the window, making everything too bright, too sharp.“Amelia.” He said my name gently, but there was n

1Eva.I was late. Not fashionably, not excusably—late-late.I burst through the glass doors of Hayes & Rowe with my heart in my throat, hair damp against my neck, and my heels clicking a staccato rhythm that only reminded me how out of place I felt. Three missed calls blinked on my phone. One from the agency, two from an unknown number.I knew it was over before it started, but I was here anyway, praying the universe might grant me one ounce of mercy.The receptionist gave me that look. Pity mixed with a pinch of glee, as if she’d been waiting for someone to mess up just so she could witness the aftermath.“Eva Carter for Mr. Hayes,” I managed, breathless.She pressed a button, her eyes sharp as she watched me struggle to smooth my blouse and tame the flyaways around my face.“He’s waiting,” she said.I nodded, swallowed, and walked down a corridor that felt a hundred miles long.The door was open, just enough for me to glimpse the man inside. He didn’t look up when I knocked.He was

3Eva.I woke up before my alarm, already on edge, nerves strung tight. The glow of Julian’s last message haunted me: You’re mine now. I had no idea what that actually meant, or if I even wanted to understand. But I felt it in my bones, all through my morning routine. My hand shook as I zipped up my skirt. I picked the most conservative blouse I owned and still checked the mirror twice to make sure it wasn’t see-through. My skin still ached with phantom bruises from yesterday.At work, I did everything I could to avoid him. I kept my eyes glued to my screen, answered every email within seconds, and disappeared into the bathroom just to catch my breath. I convinced myself I could pretend nothing happened, be a normal intern for one day. I made it an hour before I felt him watching me from his office, the weight of his stare burning across the room. He didn’t call me in. He didn’t send a text. He just left his door open and waited.He wanted me to come to him. I refused. I tried to remin

5EvaBy Friday, I thought I’d finally figured out how to move through the office without drawing stares. I kept my head down, did my work, and tried to blend in, even though everyone already knew I was Julian’s new favorite. Whispers followed me down the hallways, little smirks from the other women, side-eyes from the ones who wanted what I had but would never dare reach for it.I wore a high-neck blouse and kept my hair up, hiding the faint marks he’d left on my throat. I told myself I’d be invisible today. I lied to myself every morning now.The quarterly board meeting brought in a handful of executives from other branches—men with strong handshakes, perfect teeth, and the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing you own a piece of the world. They gathered in the big conference room, and as Julian’s “assistant,” I was there to pass out papers, pour coffee, and play the part he’d written for me.One of the visiting execs—Lucas something, a few years older than me, all easy smi

7Eva.I almost didn’t believe it when the email came through:Eva, pack a bag. You’re coming to the conference. Flights are booked. Separate rooms. —JHI read it three times before it made sense. I could feel the office watching me as I printed my boarding pass, as I slipped into the back of the company car beside Julian, our knees almost touching in the dark. He didn’t look at me, not once during the ride to the airport. He spent the whole time on the phone, calm and clipped, his wedding ring catching the city lights as he gestured.At the gate, we stood just a little too close. My chest ached with nerves, anticipation, fear. I kept thinking about what had happened in his office the night his wife came. The bruises on my hips hadn’t faded, a faint ache that throbbed every time I sat down. I should’ve hated him for it, should’ve run far away, but I couldn’t. I wanted more. I was hooked on the way he broke me open and put me back together.We landed after dark. The conference was in a