Semua Bab Craving The Enemy's Husband: Bab 31 - Bab 40

Chapter 32 – Bryan’s POV The air in the suite’s meeting room seemed to still, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. “Lay her off,” Tony had said, without any explanation or even addressing any situation. He just said it like it was the most natural request in the world. As if I had come all the way from Adams Petroleum and Gas, a 20 minutes journey to discuss personnel changes instead of a multi-million-dollar oil partnership that was supposed to open doors for both our companies. My chair creaked as I leaned back, narrowing my eyes. “Tony,” I said slowly, tasting the weight of his name in my mouth the way you test a coin for authenticity, “I don’t know what history you two have, but Christiana’s employment isn’t your decision to make.” He just sat there in his tailored suit, calm as still water, the kind of calm that made you think there was something dangerous moving beneath the surface. I let my voice drop a notch, colder now. “And the last man who tried to

Chapter 34 **Bryan’s POV** Pete’s steady hands were still on the wheel, the hum of the car’s engine filling the silence between us. The late afternoon sun cut sharp slants of gold through the tinted windows, streaking across my suit sleeve. Outside, the city rolled by in a blur of steel and glass, every passing streetlight and intersection just another beat in the clockwork rhythm of my thoughts. And that rhythm kept syncing to one echo: How could you not know who your secretary really is? Tony’s voice had that staying power, that line kept circling the drain in my head no matter how much you try to flush it out. I shifted in my seat, gripping my knee until the muscle tightened under my palm. My eyes stayed locked on the windshield, refusing to so much as flick toward the phone resting on the seat beside me. The temptation was right there. Like an open flame. One touch and it would burn. I told myself I wouldn’t. I told myself checking on Christiana now would be

Chapter 36: The Threat Bella’s POV I hate afternoons! I'm the devil and darkness prevails here, the sun light catching the rim of my wineglass and scattering reflections like little sparks. I swirled what was left, letting the liquid coat the crystal, slow and indulgent. The sound was soft but deliberate, a quiet punctuation to the stillness in the room. I had asked Diane Adams to come back when she was about to leave angrily, she had said so much for one day, how could she go scot-free. I asked her to sit down so we could discuss matters more amicably. I would have killed her right here and right now if not that this is the Adams Mansion and I do not have anyone I could trust here yet to dispose the garbage. All the staff members here literally don't like me, and I don't like them either. Diane Adams sat across from me, her posture as rigid as if the chair beneath her were made of steel instead of velvet. The kind of posture that screamed discipline, breeding, and cont

Chap’ter 38: Watching Christiana. “Morning, Mr. Adams,” Mc Snortface called, his grin so wide it practically split his face. I slowed mid-step, narrowing my eyes. “Morning…" I looked at his name tag as though I didn't know his name before, "Mc Snortface.” That ridiculous name still made me wonder if his parents had been cruel or drunk when they signed the birth certificate. Although, I heard it wasn’t even his real name. It was some half-joking nickname the staff gave him years ago that had somehow stuck. His grin didn’t fade and that was when my first thought hit me like a sucker punch: the night in my office with Christiana. The quiet that wasn’t entirely quiet. The heavy glass door that didn’t quite muffle the sound of her breathing against mine. The security guards on patrol at that time weren’t deaf, they must have heard something. Was that what this grin was about? Had he heard something? Was he remembering it right now, picturing it every time he saw me? I r

Chapter 40: Awkward **Bryan’s POV** The way she reacted wasn’t what I expected. Instead of dodging the question, getting flustered, or stiffening the way most people would when cornered, Christiana threw her head back and laughed. Not the polite kind people use to buy time. It sounded very genuine, light and just self-deprecating enough to make me wonder if she had been waiting years for someone to ask her this very question. “You really want to know?” she said, turning her head just enough to meet my eyes for a fraction of a second before shifting her gaze back to the windshield, like the passing blur of streetlights suddenly demanded her full attention. “I asked, didn’t I?” I kept my voice even, casual, but the truth was, her reaction had thrown me off balance. She shifted in her seat, “Fine,” she said, dragging the word out. “I remained a virgin because…” She let the sentence hang just long enough for me to register the glint in her eyes. “…I never actually d