All Chapters of Oops, I Kissed My Villain Boss : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Florence POV The cold muzzle of Vladimir’s gun was still pressed to Anthony’s forehead when everything shattered. The air in the room was thick enough to choke on.For a full second after Anthony said, “By you,” nothing moved. Vladimir didn’t blink. His finger stayed curled beside the trigger. The guards were statues. I felt my own breath lock in my chest, my lungs refusing to work.Vladimir stared at Anthony, his pale eyes flat. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a smile. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t amused. It was the look of a man who has found a puzzle that interests him.“You are either very brave,” Vladimir said, his voice calm and low, “or you are the most foolish man to ever walk into my club.”Anthony didn’t answer. He just held Vladimir’s gaze.Vladimir shifted the gun, digging the barrel harder into Anthony’s skin. “You walk into my house. You accuse me. And you think you will walk out?”The words broke the paralysis in my throat. “He’s telling the truth!” My voice came o

Florence's POV The farmhouse sat far from the main road, hidden behind a thicket of skeletal trees. Weeds grew tall around it, and the ground was a churned-up mess of mud and old tire tracks. The building itself looked like it was dying. The roof sagged in the middle as if a giant hand had pressed down on it. One whole side of the front porch had collapsed into a pile of rotten wood. The windows were boarded up from the inside with thick, gray planks of wood, nailed in a haphazard X-pattern.Javier cut the car engine a few meters from the house and killed the headlights. The sudden silence was heavy."This is the place," he said, his voice low. "It's not much, but it's off-grid. No one's used it in years."Anthony got out first, moving instantly into a crouch beside the car door, his eyes scanning the dark tree line and the outline of the house. He moved like the shadows themselves might reach out and grab him. I stayed frozen in the backseat for a moment, listening. There were no vo

Florence POV Angel woke quietly.No scream. No sudden movement.Just a sharp, sudden inhale that made her entire body stiffen against the thin mattress.I noticed it because I had been sitting on the floor beside her, my back against the cold wall of the farmhouse. I was half-asleep, drifting in the gray space between exhaustion and awareness. The room was dark, the only light a faint glow from a cracked battery-powered lantern Anthony had set in the corner. Cold seeped up through the gaps in the floorboards. The only sounds were Javier moving quietly somewhere outside, keeping watch, and Anthony’s steady, even breathing from where he sat in a broken chair by the door.Angel’s eyes opened.They were not hazy or confused. They were alert. Frighteningly alert.She pushed herself up and backward in one jerky motion, dragging her body away from me until her shoulders hit the wall. Her arms wrapped around her knees, pulling them tight to her chest. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her s

(FLASHBACK: ANGEL’S POV - TEN YEARS OLD)The woman who bought me from the roadside said her name was Mara. She wasn’t kind, but she wasn’t cruel in the way the men would be. She was practical. “You are an investment,” she told me, her fingers cold as she tilted my chin up to the light. “You will earn your keep.”The brothel in Porto Vale was a three-story building squeezed between a butcher shop that reeked of blood and a boarded-up tailor’s store. The walls were the color of old teeth, cracked and stained. The front room was a bar that smelled of stale beer, sour sweat, and smoke. The back rooms, where we slept and worked, smelled of cheap floral soap that never quite masked the scent of sex and despair.I was the youngest. The others were teenagers, some in their twenties. They looked at me with a mix of pity and resentment. Another mouth to feed, another girl to split the meager coins with.I learned the rules quickly. Be quiet. Be available. Do what you’re told.The first time a m

Florence POV The car moved through the darkness in near silence. There was no music on the radio, no conversation. Just the low, constant hum of the engine and the steady hiss of tires on wet asphalt.Angel was stretched across the backseat, finally still. Before we left the farmhouse, Javier had given her a mild sedative from his kit. “It’ll keep her calm and asleep for a few hours,” he’d said. “She needs the rest, and we need the quiet.” Her breathing was slow and even now, a stark contrast to the ragged panic of before.I kept twisting in the passenger seat to look back at her. In the intermittent glow of passing streetlights, her face was pale and slack. There was a small, dark bruise near her temple I hadn’t noticed before, a fresh bloom of violence. Her dry lips were slightly parted.Anthony drove. Both hands were clamped on the steering wheel at ten and two. His eyes were fixed on the unspooling road ahead, his jaw a hard line of tension that hadn’t eased since we’d thrown our